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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/29945-0.txt b/29945-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..596dc68 --- /dev/null +++ b/29945-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11455 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Jan and Her Job, by L. Allen Harker + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Jan and Her Job + +Author: L. Allen Harker + +Release Date: September 9, 2009 [EBook #29945] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JAN AND HER JOB *** + + + + +Produced by Robert Cicconetti, S.D., and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + + + + +JAN AND HER JOB + + + + +[Illustration: "But surely," said Peter, "I _am_ your job--part of it, +anyway."] + + + + +JAN AND HER JOB + +BY + +L. ALLEN HARKER + +AUTHOR OF "A ROMANCE OF THE NURSERY"; "MISS ESPERANCE AND MR. WYCHERLY"; +"MR. WYCHERLY'S WARDS"; "THE FFOLLIOTS OF REDMARLEY," ETC. + +ILLUSTRATED + +NEW YORK + +CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS + +1917 + + +Copyright, 1917, by +Charles Scribner's Sons + +*** + +Published March, 1917 + + + TO + + F. R. P. + + "_Chary of praise and prodigal of counsel-- + Who but thou?_" + R. L. S. + + + + +_CONTENTS_ + + + CHAPTER PAGE + + I. JAN 1 + + II. JAN'S MAIL 13 + + III. BOMBAY 19 + + IV. THE BEGINNING OF THE JOB 39 + + V. THE CHILDREN 52 + + VI. THE SHADOW BEFORE 62 + + VII. THE HUMAN TOUCH 78 + + VIII. THE END OF THE DREAM 91 + + IX. MEG 97 + + X. PLANS 124 + + XI. THE STATE OF PETER 139 + + XII. "THE BEST-LAID SCHEMES" 149 + + XIII. THE WHEELS OF CHANCE 162 + + XIV. PERPLEXITIES 173 + + XV. WREN'S END 184 + + XVI. "THE BLUDGEONINGS OF CHANCE" 201 + + XVII. "THOUGH AN HOST SHOULD ENCAMP AGAINST + ME" 212 + + XVIII. MEG AND CAPTAIN MIDDLETON 220 + + XIX. THE YOUNG IDEA 240 + + XX. "ONE WAY OF LOVE" 252 + + XXI. ANOTHER WAY OF LOVE 261 + + XXII. THE ENCAMPMENT 276 + + XXIII. TACTICS 287 + + XXIV. "THE WAY OF A MAN WITH A MAID" 303 + + XXV. A DEMONSTRATION IN FORCE 325 + + XXVI. IN WHICH SEVERAL PEOPLE SPEAK THEIR MINDS 339 + + XXVII. AUGUST, 1914 351 + + + + +_ILLUSTRATIONS_ + + + "But surely," said Peter, "I _am_ your job--part of it, + anyway" _Frontispiece_ + + FACING + PAGE + + "It would make it easier for both of us if you'd face it, + my dear" 66 + + He washed his small sister with thoroughness and despatch, + pointing out ... that he "went into all the + corners" 156 + + William rushed out to welcome the strangers. Two ... + nice children 188 + + + + +JAN AND HER JOB + +CHAPTER I + +JAN + + +She was something of a puzzle to the other passengers. They couldn't +quite place her. She came on board the P. and O. at Marseilles. Being +Christmas week the boat was not crowded, and she had a cabin to herself +on the spar deck, so there was no "stable-companion" to find out +anything about her. + +The sharp-eyed Australian lady, who sat opposite her at the Purser's +table, decided that she was not married, or even engaged, as she wore no +rings of any kind. Besides, her name, "Miss Janet Ross," figured in the +dinner-list and was plainly painted on her deck-chair. At meals she sat +beside the Purser, and seemed more or less under his wing. People at her +table decided that she couldn't be going out as a governess or she would +hardly be travelling first class, and yet she did not look of the sort +who globe-trot all by themselves. + +Rather tall, slender without being thin, she moved well. Her ringless +hands were smooth and prettily shaped, so were her slim feet, and always +singularly well-shod. + +Perhaps her chief outward characteristic was that she looked +delightfully fresh and clean. Her fair skin helped to this effect, and +the trim suitability of her clothes accentuated it. And yet there was +nothing challenging or particularly noticeable in her personality. + +Her face, fresh-coloured and unlined, was rather round. Her eyes +well-opened and blue-grey, long-sighted and extremely honest. Her hair, +thick and naturally wavy, had been what hairdressers call "mid-brown," +but was now frankly grey, especially round the temples; and the grey +hair puzzled people, so that opinions differed widely regarding her age. + +The five box-wallahs (gentlemen engaged in commercial pursuits are so +named in the East to distinguish them from the Heaven-Born in the +various services that govern India), who, with the Australian lady, sat +opposite to her at table, decided that she was really young and +prematurely grey. Between the courses they diligently took stock of her. +The Australian lady disagreed with them. She declared Miss Ross to be +middle-aged, to look younger than she was. In this the Australian lady +was quite sincere. She could not conceive of any _young_ woman +neglecting the many legitimate means that existed of combating this most +distressing semblance--if semblance it was--of age. + +The Australian lady set her down as a well-preserved forty at least. + +Mr. Frewellen, the oldest and crossest and greediest of the five +box-wallahs, declared that he would lay fifteen rupees to five annas +that she was under thirty; that her eyes were sad, and it was probably +trouble that had turned her hair. At his time of life, he could tell a +young woman when he saw one. No painted old harridan could deceive +_him_. After all, if Miss Ross _had_ grey hair, she had plenty of it, +and it was her own. But Mr. Frewellen, who sat directly opposite her, +was prejudiced in her favour, for she always let him take her roll if it +was browner than his own. He also took her knife if it happened to be +sharper than the one he had, and he insisted on her listening to his +incessant grumbling as to the food, the service, the temperature, and +the general imbecility and baseness of his fellow-creatures. + +Like the Ancient Mariner, he held her with his glittering spectacles. +Miss Ross trembled before his diatribes. He spoke in a loud and rumbling +voice, and made derogatory remarks about the other passengers as they +passed to their respective tables. She would thankfully have changed +hers, but that it might have seemed ungrateful to the Purser, into whose +charge she had been given by friends; and the Purser had been most kind +and attentive. + +The Australian lady was sure that the Purser knew more about Miss Ross +than he would acknowledge--which he did. But when tackled by one +passenger about another, he was discreet or otherwise in direct ratio to +what he considered was the discretion of the questioner. And he was a +pretty shrewd judge of character. He had infinite opportunities of so +judging. A sea-voyage lays bare many secrets and shows up human nature +at its starkest. + +Janet Ross did not seek to make friends, but kindly people who spoke to +her found her pleasant and not in the least disposed to be mysterious +when questioned, though she never volunteered any information about +herself. She was a good listener, and about the middle of any voyage +that is a quality supplying a felt want. Mankind in general finds his +own doings very interesting, and takes great pleasure in recounting the +same. Even the most energetic young passenger cannot play deck-quoits +all day, and mixed cricket matches are too heating to last long once +Aden is left behind. A great many people found it pleasant to drop into +a chair beside the quiet lady, who was always politely interested in +their remarks. She looked so cool and restful in her white frock and +shady hat. She did _not_ buy a solar topee at Port Said, for though this +was her first voyage she had not, it seemed, started quite unwarned. + +In the middle of the Indian Ocean she suddenly found favour in the eyes +of Sir Langham Sykes, and when that was the case Sir Langham proclaimed +his preference to the whole ship. No one who attracted his notice could +remain in obscurity. When he was not eating he was talking, generally +about himself, though he was also fond of asking questions. + +A short, stout man with a red face, little fierce blue eyes, a booming +voice, noisy laugh and a truculent, domineering manner, Sir Langham +made his presence felt wherever he was. + +It was "her shape," as he called it, that first attracted his attention +to Miss Ross, as he watched her walking briskly round and round the +hurricane-deck for her morning constitutional. + +"That woman moves well," he remarked to his neighbour; "wonder if she's +goin' out to be married. Nice-looking woman and pleasant, no frills +about her--sort that would be kind in illness." + +And Sir Langham sighed. He couldn't take any exercise just then, for his +last attack of gout had been very severe, and his left foot was still +swathed and slippered. + +There was a dance that night on the hurricane-deck, and Sir Langham, +while watching the dancers, talked at the top of his voice with the more +important lady passengers. On such occasions he claimed close intimacy +with the Reigning House, and at all times of day one heard such +sentences as, "And _I_ said to the Princess Henrietta," with a full +account of what he did say. And the things he declared he said, and the +stories he told, certainly suggested a doubt as to whether the ladies of +our Royal Family are quite as strait-laced as the ordinary public is led +to believe. But then one had only Sir Langham's word for it. There was +no possibility of questioning the Princess. + +Presently Sir Langham got tired of trying to drown the band--it was such +a noisy band--and he hobbled down the companion on to the almost +deserted deck. Right up in the stern he spied Miss Ross, quite alone, +sitting under an electric light absorbed in a book. Beside her was an +empty chair with a comfortable leg-rest. Sir Langham never made any +bones about interrupting people. It would not, to him, have seemed +possible that a woman could prefer any form of literature to the charm +of his conversation. So with a series of grunts he lowered himself into +it, arranged his foot upon the rest, and, without asking permission, lit +a cigar. + +"Don't you care for dancin'?" he asked. + +She closed her book. "Oh, yes," she said, "but I don't know many men on +board, and there are such a lot of young people who do know one another. +It's pretty to watch them; but the night is pretty, too, don't you +think? The stars all seem so near compared to what they do at home." + +"I've seen too many Eastern nights to take much stock in 'em now," he +said in a disparaging voice. "I take it this is all new to you--first +voyage, eh?" + +"Yes, I've never been a long voyage before." + +"Goin' to India, I suppose. You'd have started sooner if you'd been +goin' for the winter to Australia. Now what are you goin' to India +_for_?" + +"To stay with my sister." + +"Married sister?" + +"Yes." + +"Older than you, then, of course." + +"No, younger." + +"Much younger?" + +"Three years." + +"Is she like you?" + +"Not in the least. She is a beautiful person." + +"Been married long?" + +"Between five and six years. I'm to take her home at the end of the cold +weather." + +"Any kids?" + +"Two." + +"And you haven't been out before?" + +"No; this is my first visit." + +"She's been home, I suppose?" + +"Yes, once." + +"Is her husband in the Army?" + +"No." + +Had Sir Langham been an observant person he would have noted that her +very brief replies did not exactly encourage further questions. But his +idea of conversation was either a monologue or a means of obtaining +information, so he instantly demanded, "What does her husband do?" + +The impulse of the moment urged her to reply, "What possible business is +it of yours _what_ he does?" But well-bred people do not yield to these +impulses, so she answered quietly, "He's in the P.W.D." + +"Not a bad service, not a bad service, though not equal to the I.C.S. +They've had rather a scandal in it lately. Didn't you see about it in +the papers just before we left?" + +At that moment Sir Langham was very carefully flicking the ash from the +end of his cigar, otherwise he might have observed that as he spoke his +companion flushed. A wave of warm colour surged over her face and bare +neck and receded again, leaving her very pale. Her hands closed over the +book lying in her lap, as if glad to hold on to something, and their +knuckles were white against the tan. + +"Didn't you see it?" he repeated. "Some chap been found to have taken +bribes over contracts in a native state. Regular rumpus there's been. +Quite right, too; we sahibs must have clean hands. No dealing with brown +people if you haven't clean hands--can't have rupees sticking to 'em in +any Government transactions. Expect you'll hear all about it when you +get out there--makes a great sensation in any service does that sort of +thing. I don't remember the name of the chap--perhaps they didn't give +it--do you?" + +"I didn't see anything about it," she said quietly. "I was very busy +just before I left, and hardly looked at a paper." + +"Where is your sister?" + +"In Bombay." + +"Oh, got a billet there, has he? Expect you'll like Bombay; cheery +place, in the cold weather, but not a patch on Calcutta, to my mind. I +hear the Governor and his wife do the thing in style--hospitable, you +know; got private means, as people in that position always ought to +have." + +"I don't suppose I shall go out at all," she said. "My sister is ill, +and I've got to look after her. Directly she is strong enough to travel +I shall bring her home." + +"Oh, you _must_ see something of the social life of the place while +you're there. D'you know what I thought? I thought you were goin' out to +get married, and"--he continued gallantly--"I thought he was a deuced +lucky chap." + +She smiled and shook her head. She was not looking at Sir Langham, but +at the long, white, moonlit pathway of foam left in the wake of the +ship. + +"I say," he went on confidentially, "what's your Christian name? I'm +certain they don't call you Janet. Is it Nettie, now? I bet it's +Nettie!" + +"My _family_," said Miss Ross somewhat coldly, "call me Jan." + +"Nice little name," he exclaimed, "but more like a boy's. Now, I never +got a pet name. I started Langham, and Langham I've stopped, and I +flatter myself I've made the name known and respected." + +He wanted her to look at him, and leaned towards her: "Look here, Miss +Ross, I'm goin' to ask you a funny question, and it's not one you can +ask most women--but you're a puzzle. You've got a face like a child, and +yet you're as grey as a badger. What _is_ your age?" + +"I shall be twenty-eight in March." + +She looked at him then, and her grey eyes were so full of amusement +that, incredulous as he usually was as to other people's statements, he +knew that she was speaking the truth. + +"Then why the devil don't you _do_ something _to_ it?" he demanded. + +She laughed. "I couldn't be bothered. And it might turn green, or +something. I don't mind it. It began when I was twenty-three." + +"_I_ don't mind it either," Sir Langham declared magnanimously; "but +it's misleading." + +"I'm sorry," she said demurely. "I wouldn't mislead anyone for the +world." + +"Now, what age should you think _I_ am? But I suppose you know--that's +the worst of being a public character; when one gets nearly a column in +_Who's Who_, everybody knows all about one. That's the penalty of +celebrity." + +"Do you mind people knowing your age?" + +"Not I! Nor anything else about me. _I've_ never done anything to be +ashamed of. Quite the other way, I can assure you." + +"How pleasant that must be," she said quietly. + +Sir Langham turned and looked suspiciously at her; but her face was +guileless and calm, with no trace of raillery, her eyes still fixed on +the long bright track of foam. + +"I suppose you, now," he muttered hoarsely, "always sleep well, go off +directly you turn in--eh?" + +Her quiet eyes met his; little and fierce and truculent, but behind +their rather bloodshot boldness there lurked something else, and with a +sudden pang of pity she knew that it was fear, and that Sir Langham +dreaded the night. + +"As a rule I do," she said gently; "but of course I've known what it is +to be sleepless, and it's horrid." + +"It's hell," said Sir Langham, "and I'm in it every night this voyage, +for I've knocked off morphia and opiates--they were playing the deuce +with my constitution, and I've strength of mind for anything when I +fairly take hold. But it's awful. When d'you suppose natural sleep will +come back?" + +She knew that he did not lack physical courage, that he had fearlessly +faced great dangers in many outposts of the world; but the demon of +insomnia had got a hold of Sir Langham, and he dreaded the night +unspeakably. At that moment there was something pathetic about the +little, boastful, filibustering man. + +"I think you will sleep to-night," she said confidently, "especially if +you go to bed early." + +She half rose as she spoke, but he put his hand on her arm and pressed +her down in her chair again. + +"Don't go yet," he cried. "Keep on tellin' me I'll sleep, and then +perhaps I shall. You look as if you could will people to do things. +You're that quiet sort. Will me, there's a good girl. Tell me again I'll +sleep to-night." + +It was getting late; the music had stopped and the dancers had +disappeared. Miss Ross did not feel over comfortable alone with Sir +Langham so far away from everybody else. Especially as she saw he was +excited and nervous. Had he been drinking? she wondered. But she +remembered that he had proclaimed far and wide that, because of his +gout, he'd made a vow to touch no form of "alcoholic liquor" on the +voyage, except on Christmas and New Year's Day. It was six days since +Christmas, and already Aden was left behind. No, it was just sheer +nervous excitement, and if she could do him any good.... + +"I feel sure you will sleep to-night," she said soothingly, "if you will +do as I tell you." + +"I'll do any mortal thing. I've got a deck-cabin to myself. Will you +keep willin' me when you turn in?" + +"Go to bed now," she said firmly. "Undress quickly, and then think about +nothing ... and I'll do the rest." + +"You will, you promise?" + +"Yes, but you must keep your mind a perfect blank, or I can't do +anything." + +She stood up tall and straight. The moonlight caught her grey hair and +burnished it to an aureole of silver. + +With many grunts Sir Langham pulled himself out of his chair. "No +smokin'-room, eh?" + +"Good night," Miss Ross said firmly, and left him. + +"Don't forget to ask your sister's husband about that chap in the +P.W.D.," he called after her. "He's sure to know all about it. What's +his name?--your brother-in-law, I mean." + +But Miss Ross had disappeared. + +"Now how the devil," he muttered, "am I to make my mind, _my_ mind, a +perfect blank?" + +Two hours later Sir Langham's snores grievously disturbed the occupants +of adjacent cabins. + +In hers, Miss Ross sat by the open porthole reading and re-reading the +mail that had reached her at Aden. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +JAN'S MAIL + + + _Bombay, December 13th._ + + My Dear Jan, + + It was a great relief to get your cable saying definitely + that you were sailing by the _Carnduff_. Misfortunes seem + to have come upon us in such numbers of late that I dreaded + lest your departure might be unavoidably delayed or + prevented. I will not now enter into the painful question + of my shameful treatment by Government, but you can well + understand that I shall leave no stone unturned to reverse + their most unfair and unjust decision, and to bring my + traducers to book. Important business having reference to + these matters calls me away at once, as I feel it is most + essential not to lose a moment, my reputation and my whole + future being at stake. I shall therefore, to my great + regret, be unable to meet you on your arrival in Bombay, + and, as my movements for the next few months will be rather + uncertain, I may find it difficult to let you have regular + news of me. I would therefore advise you to take Fay and + the children home as soon as all is safely over and she is + able to travel, and I will join you in England if and when + I find I can get away. I know, dear Jan, that you will not + mind financing Fay to this extent at present; as, owing to + these wholly unexpected departmental complications, I am + uncommonly hard up. I will, of course, repay you at the + earliest possible opportunity. + + Poor Fay is not at all well; all these worries have been + very bad for her, and I have been distracted by anxiety on + her behalf, as well as about my own most distressing + position, and a severe attack of fever has left me weak and + ailing. I thought it better to bring Fay down to Bombay, + where she can get the best medical advice, and her being + there will save you the long, tiresome journey to + Dariawarpur. It is also most convenient for going home. She + is installed in a most comfortable flat, and we brought our + own servants, so I hope you will feel that I have done my + best for her. + + Fay will explain the whole miserable business to you, and + although appearances may be against me, I trust that you + will realise how misleading these may be. I cannot thank + you enough for responding so promptly to our ardently + expressed desire for your presence at this difficult time. + It will make all the difference in the world to Fay; and, + on her account, to me also. + + Believe me, always yours affectionately, + + HUGO TANCRED. + + _Bombay, Friday._ + + Jan my dear, my dear, are you really on your way? And shall + I see your face and hear your kind voice, and be able to + cry against your shoulder? + + I can't meet you, my precious, because I don't go out. I'm + afraid. Afraid lest I should see anyone who knew us at + Dariawarpur. India is so large and so small, and people + from everywhere are always in Bombay, and I couldn't bear + it. + + Do you know, Jan, that when the very worst has happened, + you get kind of numbed. You can't suffer any more. You + can't be sorry or angry or shocked or indignant, or + anything but just broken, and that's what I am. + + After all, I've one good friend here who knew us at + Dariawarpur. He's got a job at the secretariat, and he + tries to help me all he can. I don't mind him somehow. He + understands. He will meet you and bring you to the + bungalow, so look out for him when the boat gets in. He's + tall and thin and clean-shaven and yellow, with a grave, + stern face and beautiful kind eyes. Peter is an angel, so + be nice to him, Jan dear. It has been awful; it will go on + being awful; but it will be a little more bearable when you + come--for me, I mean--for you it will be horrid. All of us + on your hands, and no money, and me such a crock, and + presently a new baby. The children are well. It's so queer + to think you haven't seen "little Fay." Come soon, Jan, + come soon, to your miserable FAY. + +Jan sat on her bunk under the open porthole. One after the other she +held the letters open in her hand and stared at them, but she did not +read. The sentences were burnt into her brain already. + +Hugo Tancred's letter was dated. Fay's was not, and neither letter bore +any address in Bombay. Now, Jan knew that Bombay is a large town; and +that people like the Tancreds, who, if not actually in hiding, certainly +did not seek to draw attention to their movements, would be hard to +find. Fay had wholly omitted to mention the surname of the tall, thin, +yellow man with the "grave, stern face and beautiful kind eyes." Even in +the midst of her poignant anxiety Jan found herself smiling at this. It +was so like Fay--so like her to give no address. And should the tall, +thin gentleman fail to appear, what was Jan to do? She could hardly go +about the ship asking if one "Peter" had come to fetch her. + +How would she find Fay? + +Would they allow her to wait at the landing-place till someone came, or +were there stringent regulations compelling passengers to leave the +docks with the utmost speed, as most of them would assuredly desire to +do? + +She knitted her brows and worried a good deal about this; then suddenly +put the question from her as too trivial when there were such infinitely +greater problems to solve. + +Only one thing was clear. One central fact shone out, a beacon amidst +the gloom of the "departmental complications" enshrouding the conduct of +Hugo Tancred, the certainty that he had, for the present anyway, shifted +the responsibility of his family from his own shoulders to hers. As she +sat square and upright under the porthole, with the cool air from an +inserted "wind-sail" ruffling her hair, she looked as though she braced +herself to the burden. + +She wished she knew exactly what had happened, what Hugo Tancred had +actually done. For some years she had known that he was by no means +scrupulous in money matters, and that very evening Sir Langham had made +it clear to her that this crookedness had not stopped short at his +official work. There had been a scandal, so far-reaching a scandal that +it had got into the home papers. + +This struck Jan as rather extraordinary, for Hugo Tancred was by no +means a stupid man. + +It is one thing to be pleasantly oblivious of private debts, to omit +cheques in repayment of various necessaries got at the Stores by an +obliging sister-in-law. One thing to muddle away in wild-cat +speculations a wife's money that, but for the procrastination of an +easy-going father, would have been tightly tied up--quite another to +bring himself so nearly within the clutches of the law as to make it +possible for the Government of India to dismiss him. + +And what was he to do? What did the future hold for him? + +Who would give employment to however able a man with such a career +behind him? + +Jan's imagination refused to take such flights. Resolutely she put the +subject from her and began to consider what her own best course would be +with Fay, her nephew and niece, and, very shortly, a new baby on her +hands. + +Jan was not a young woman to let things drift. She had kept house for a +whimsical, happy-go-lucky father since she was fourteen; mothered her +beautiful young sister; and, at her father's death, two years before, +had with quiet decision arranged her own life, wholly avoiding the +discussion and the friction which generally are the lot of an unmarried +woman of five-and-twenty left without natural guardians and with a large +circle of friends and relations. + +It was nearly two o'clock when she undressed and went to bed, and before +that she had drafted two cablegrams--one to a house-agent, the other to +her bankers. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +BOMBAY + + +For Jan the next two days passed as in a more or less disagreeable +dream. She could never afterwards recall very clearly what happened, +except that Sir Langham Sykes seemed absolutely omnipresent, and made +her, she felt, ridiculous before the whole ship, by proclaiming far and +wide that she had bestowed upon him the healing gift of sleep. + +He was so effusive, so palpably grateful, that she simply could not +undeceive him by telling him that after they parted the night before she +had never given him another thought. + +When he was not doing this he was pursuing, with fulminations against +the whole tribe of missionaries, two kindly, quiet members of the +Society of Friends. + +In an evil moment they had gratified his insatiable curiosity as to the +object of their voyage to India, which was to visit and report upon the +missionary work of their community. Once he discovered this he never let +them alone, and the deck resounded with his denunciations of all +Protestant missionaries as "self-seeking, oily humbugs." + +They bore it with well-mannered resignation, and a common dislike for +Sir Langham formed quite a bond of union between them and Jan. + +There was the usual dance on New Year's Eve, the usual singing of "Auld +Lang Syne" in two huge circles; and Jan would have enjoyed it all but +for the heavy foreboding in her heart; for she was a simple person who +responded easily to the emotions of others. Before she could slip away +to bed Sir Langham cornered her again, conjuring her to "will" him to +sleep and "to go on doin' it" after they parted in Bombay. He became +rather maudlin, and she seized the opportunity of telling him that her +best efforts would be wholly unavailing if he at all relaxed the +temperate habits, so necessary for the cure of his gout, that he had +acquired during the voyage. She was stern with Sir Langham, and her +admonitions had considerable effect. He sought his cabin chastened and +thoughtful. + +The boat was due early in the morning. Jan finished most of her packing +before she undressed; then, tired and excited, she could not sleep. A +large cockroach scuttling about her cabin did not tend to calm her +nerves. She plentifully besprinkled the floor with powdered borax, kept +the electric light turned on and the fan whirring, and lay down +wide-awake to wait for the dawn. + +The ship was unusually noisy, but just about four o'clock came a new +sound right outside her porthole--the rush alongside of the boat bearing +the pilot and strange loud voices calling directions in an unknown +tongue. She turned out her light (first peering fearfully under her +berth to make sure no borax-braving cockroach was in ambush) and knelt +on her bed to look out and watch the boat with its turbaned occupants: +big brown men, who shouted to one another in a liquid language full of +mystery. + +For a brief space the little boat was towed alongside the great liner, +then cast off, and presently--far away on the horizon--Jan saw a streak +of pearly pinkish light, as though the soft blue curtain of the night +had been lifted just a little; and against that luminous streak were +hills. + +In spite of her anxiety, in spite of her fears as to the future, Jan's +heart beat fast with pleasurable excitement. She was young and strong +and eager, and here at last was the real East. A little soft wind +caressed her tired forehead and she drank in the blessed coolness of the +early morning. + +Both day and night come quickly in the East. Jan got up, had her bath, +dressed, and by half-past six she was on deck. The dark-blue curtain was +rolled up, and the scene set was the harbour of Bombay. + +Such a gracious haven of strange multi-coloured craft, with its double +coast-line of misty hills on one side, and clear-cut, high-piled +buildings, domes and trees upon the other. + +A gay white-and-gold launch, with its attendants in scarlet and white, +came for certain passengers, who were guests of the Governor. The police +launch, trim and business-like with its cheerful yellow-hatted sepoys, +came for others. Jan watched these favoured persons depart in stately +comfort, and went downstairs to get some breakfast. Then came the rush +of departure by the tender. So many had friends to meet them, and all +seemed full of pleasure in arrival. Jan was just beginning to feel +rather forlorn and anxious when the Purser, fussed and over-driven as he +always is at such times, came towards her, followed by a tall man +wearing a pith helmet and an overcoat. + +"Mr. Ledgard has come to meet you, Miss Ross, so you'll be all right." + +It was amazing how easy everything became. Mr. Ledgard's servants +collected Jan's cabin baggage and took it with them in the tender and, +on arrival, in a tikka-gharri--the little pony-carriage which is the +gondola of Bombay--and almost before she quite realised that the voyage +was over she found herself seated beside Peter in a comfortable +motor-car, with a cheerful little Hindu chauffeur at the steering-wheel, +sliding through wide, well-watered streets, still comparatively empty +because it was so early. + +By mutual consent they turned to look at one another, and Jan noted that +Peter Ledgard _was_ thin and extremely yellow. That his eyes (hollow and +tired-looking as are the eyes of so many officials in the East) _were_ +kind, and she thought she had never before beheld a firmer mouth or more +masterful jaw. + +What Peter saw evidently satisfied him as to her common sense, for he +plunged _in medias res_ at once: "How much do you know of this +unfortunate affair?" he asked. + +"Very little," she answered, "and that little extremely vague. Will you +tell me has Hugo come to total grief or not?" + +"Officially, yes. He is finished, done for--may thank his lucky stars +he's not in gaol. It's well you should know this at the very beginning, +for of course he won't allow it, and poor Fay--Mrs. Tancred (I'm afraid +we're rather free-and-easy about Christian names in India)--doesn't know +the whole facts by a very long way. From what she tells me, I fear he +has made away with most of her money, too. Was any of it tied up?" + +Jan shook her head. "We both got what money there was absolutely on my +father's death." + +"Then," said Peter, "I fear you've got the whole of them on your hands, +Miss Ross." + +"That's what I've come for," Jan said simply, "to take care of Fay and +the children." + +Peter Ledgard looked straight in front of him. + +"It's a lot to put on you," he said slowly, "and I'm afraid you'll find +it a bit more complicated than you expect. Will you remember that I'd +like to help you all I can?" + +Jan looked at the stern profile beside her and felt vaguely comforted. +"I shall be most grateful for your advice," she said humbly. "I know I +shall need it." + +The motor stopped, and as she stepped from it in front of the tall block +of buildings, Jan knew that the old easy, straightforward life was over. +Unconsciously she stiffened her back and squared her shoulders, and +looked very tall and straight as she stood beside Peter Ledgard in the +entrance. The pretty colour he had admired when he met her had faded +from her cheeks, and the face under the shady hat looked grave and +older. + +Peter said something to the smiling lift-man in an extremely dirty dhoti +who stood salaaming in the entrance. + +"I won't come up now," he said to Jan. "Please tell Mrs. Tancred I'll +look in about tea-time." + +As Jan entered the lift and vanished from his sight, Peter reflected, +"So that's the much-talked-of Jan! Well, I'm not surprised Fay wanted +her." + +The lift stopped. An elderly white-clad butler stood salaaming at an +open door, and Jan followed him. + +A few steps through a rather narrow passage and she was in a large light +room opening on to a verandah, and in the centre stood her sister Fay, +with outstretched arms. + +A pathetic, inarticulate, worn and faded Fay: her pretty freshness +dimmed. A Fay with dark circles round her hollow eyes and all the living +light gone from her abundant fair hair. It was as though her face was +covered by an impalpable grey mask. + +There was no doubt about it. Fay looked desperately ill. Ill in a way +not to be accounted for by her condition. + +Clinging together they sat down on an immense sofa, exchanging trivial +question and answer as to the matters ordinary happy folk discuss when +they first meet after a long absence. Jan asked for the children, who +had not yet returned from their early morning walk with the ayah. Fay +asked about the voyage and friends at home, and told Jan she had got +dreadfully grey; then kissed her and leant against her just as she used +to do when they were both children and she needed comfort. + +Jan said nothing to Fay about _her_ looks, and neither of them so much +as mentioned Hugo Tancred. But Jan felt a wild desire to get away by +herself and cry and cry over this sad wraith of the young sister whose +serene and happy beauty had been the family pride. + +And yet she was so essentially the same Fay, tender and loving and +inconsequent, and full of pretty cares for Jan's comfort. + +The dining-room was behind the sitting-room, with only a curtain +between, and as they sat at breakfast Fay was so eager Jan should +eat--she ate nothing herself--so anxious lest she should not like the +Indian food, that poor Jan, with a lump in her throat that choked her at +every morsel, forced down the carefully thought-out breakfast and meekly +accepted everything presented by the grey-haired turbaned butler who +bent over her paternally and offered every dish much as one would tempt +a shy child with some amusing toy. + +Presently Fay took her to see her room, large, bare and airy, with +little furniture save the bed with its clean white mosquito curtains +placed under the electric fan in the centre of the ceiling. Outside the +window was a narrow balcony, and Jan went there at once to look out; and +though her heart was so heavy she was fain to exclaim joyfully at the +beauty of the view. + +Right opposite, across Back Bay, lay the wooded villa-crowned slopes of +Malabar Hill, flung like a garland on the bosom of a sea deeply blue and +smiling, smooth as a lake, while below her lay the pageant of the +street, with its ever-changing panorama of vivid life. The whole so +brilliant, so various, so wholly unlike any beautiful place she had ever +seen before that, artist's daughter she was, she cried eagerly to Fay, +"Oh, come and look! Did you ever see anything so lovely? How Dad would +have rejoiced in this!" + +Fay followed slowly: "I thought you'd like it," she said, evidently +pleased by Jan's enthusiasm, "that's why I gave you this room. Look, +Jan! There are the children coming, those two over by the band-stand. +They see us. _Do_ wave to them." + +The children were still a long way off. Jan could only see an ayah in +her white draperies pushing a little go-cart with a child in it, and a +small boy trotting by her side, but she waved as she was bidden. + +The room had evidently at one time been used as a nursery, for inside +the stone balustrade was a high trellis of wood. Jan and Fay were both +tall women, but even on them the guarding trellis came right up to their +shoulders. Neither of them could really lean over, though Fay tried, in +her eagerness to attract the attention of the little group. Jan watched +her sister's face and again felt that cruel constriction of the throat +that holds back tears. Fay's tired eyes were so sad, so out of keeping +with the cheerful movement of her hand, so shadowed by some knowledge +she could not share. + +"You mustn't stand here without a hat," she said, turning to go in. "The +sun is getting hot. You must get a topee this afternoon. Peter will take +you and help to choose it." + +"Couldn't you come, if we took a little carriage? Does driving tire you +when it's cool?" Jan asked as she followed her sister back into the +room. + +"I never go out," Fay said decidedly. "I never shall again ... I mean," +she added, "till it's all over. I couldn't bear it just now--I might +meet someone I know." + +"But, Fay, it's very bad for you to be always indoors. Surely, in the +early morning or the evening--you'll come out then?" + +Fay shook her head. "Peter has taken me out in the motor once or twice +at night--but I don't really like it. It makes me so dreadfully tired. +Don't worry me about that, Jan. I get plenty of air in the verandah. +It's just as pretty there as in your balcony, and we can have +comfortable chairs. Let's go there now. _You_ shall go out as much as +you like. I'll send Lalkhan with you, or Ayah and the children; and +Peter will take you about all he can--he promised he would. Don't think +I want to be selfish and keep you here with me all the time." + +The flat, weak voice, so nervous, so terrified lest her stronger sister +should force her to some course of action she dreaded, went to Jan's +heart. + +"My dear," she said gently, "I haven't come here to rush about. I've +come to be with you. We'll do exactly what you like best." + +Fay clung to her again and whispered, "Later on you'll understand +better--I'll be able to tell you things, and perhaps you'll understand +... though I'm not sure--you're not weak like me, you'd never go under +... you'd always fight...." + +There was a pattering of small feet in the passage. Little high voices +called for "Mummy," and the children came in. + +Tony, a grave-eyed, pale-faced child of five, came forward instantly, +with his hand held out far in front of him. Jan, who loved little +children, knew in a minute that he was afraid she would kiss him; so she +shook hands with gentlemanly stiffness. Little Fay, on the contrary, ran +forward, held up her arms "to be taken" and her adorably pretty little +face to be kissed. She was startlingly like her mother at the same age, +with bobbing curls of feathery gold, beseeching blue eyes and a +complexion delicately coloured as the pearly pink lining of certain +shells. She was, moreover, chubby, sturdy and robust--quite unlike Tony, +who looked nervous, bleached and delicate. + +Tony went and leant against his mother, regarding Jan and his small +sister with dubious, questioning eyes. + +Presently he remarked, "I wish she hadn't come." + +"Oh, Tony," Fay exclaimed reproachfully, "you must both love Auntie Jan +very dearly. She has come such a long way to be good to us all." + +"I wish she hadn't," Tony persisted. + +"_I_ sall love Auntie Dzan," Fay remarked, virtuously. + +It was pleasant to be cuddled by this friendly baby, and Jan laid her +cheek against the fluffy golden head; but all the time she was watching +Tony. He reminded her of someone, and she couldn't think who. He +maintained his aloof and unfriendly attitude till Ayah came to take the +children to their second breakfast. Little Fay, however, refused to +budge, and when the meekly salaaming ayah attempted to take her, made +her strong little body stiff, and screamed vigorously, clinging so +firmly to her aunt that Jan had herself to carry the obstreperous baby +to the nursery, where she left her lying on the floor, still yelling +with all the strength of her evidently healthy lungs. + +When Jan returned, rather dishevelled--for her niece had seized a +handful of her hair in the final struggle not to be put down--Fay said +almost complacently, "You see, the dear little soul took a fancy to you +at once. Tony is much more reserved and not nearly so friendly. He's +very Scotch, is Tony." + +"He does what he's told, anyway." + +"Oh, not always," Fay said reassuringly, "only when he doesn't mind +doing it. They've both got very strong wills." + +"So have I," said Jan. + +Fay sighed. "It was time you came to keep them in order. I can't." + +This was evident, for Fay had not attempted to interfere with her +daughter beyond saying, "I expect she's hungry, that's why she's so +fretty, poor dear." + +That afternoon Peter went to the flat and was shown as usual into the +sitting-room. + +Jan and the children were in the verandah, all with their backs to the +room, and did not notice his entrance as Jan was singing nursery-rhymes. +Fay sat on her knee, cuddled close as though there were no such thing as +tempers in the world. Tony sat on a little chair at her side, not very +near, but still near enough to manifest a more friendly spirit than in +the morning. Peter waited in the background while the song went on. + + I saw a ship a-sailing, a-sailing on the sea, + And it was full of pretty things for Tony, Fay and me. + There was sugar in the cabin and kisses in the hold---- + +"Whose kisses?" Tony asked suspiciously. + +"Mummy's kisses, of course," said Jan. + +"Why doesn't it _say_ so, then?" Tony demanded. + +"Mummy's kisses in the hold," Jan sang obediently-- + + The sails were made of silk and the masts were made of gold. + Gold, gold, the masts were made of gold. + +"What nelse?" Fay asked before Jan could start the second verse. + + There were four-and-twenty sailors a-skipping on the deck, + And they were little white mice with rings about their neck. + The captain was a duck, with a jacket on his back, + And when the ship began to sail, the captain cried, "Quack! Quack! + Quack! Quack!" The captain cried, "Quack! Quack!" + +"What nelse?" Fay asked again. + +"There isn't any nelse, that's all." + +"Adain," said Fay. + +"Praps," Tony said thoughtfully, "there was _some_ auntie's kisses in +that hold ... just a few...." + +"I'm sure there were," said a new voice, and Peter appeared on the +verandah. + +The children greeted him with effusion, and when he sat down Tony sat on +his knee. He was never assailed by fears lest Peter should want to kiss +him. Peter was not that sort. + +"Sing nunner song," little Fay commanded. + +"Not now," Jan said; "we've got a visitor and must talk to him." + +"Sing nunner song," little Fay repeated firmly, just as though she had +not heard. + +"Not now; some other time," Jan said with equal firmness. + +"Mack!" said the baby, and suited the action to the word by dealing her +aunt a good hard smack on the arm. + +"You mustn't do that," said Jan; "it's not kind." + +"Mack, mack, mack," in _crescendo_ with accompanying blows. + +Jan caught the little hand, while Peter and Tony, interested spectators, +said nothing. She held it firmly. "Listen, little Fay," she said, very +gently. "If you do that again I shall take you to Ayah in the nursery. +Just once again, and you go." + +Jan loosed the little hand, and instantly it dealt her a resounding slap +on the cheek. + +It is of no avail to kick and scream and wriggle in the arms of a +strong, decided young aunt. For the second time that day, a vociferously +struggling baby was borne back to the nursery. + +As the yells died away in the distance, Tony turned right round on +Peter's knee and faced him: "She does what she says," he remarked in an +awestruck whisper. + +"And a jolly good thing too," answered Peter. + +When Jan came back she brought her sister with her. Lalkhan brought tea, +and Tony went with him quite meekly to the nursery. They heard him +chattering to Lalkhan in Hindustani as they went along the passage. + +Fay looked a thought less haggard than in the morning. She had slept +after tiffin; the fact that her sister was actually in the bungalow had +a calming effect upon her. She was quite cheerful and full of plans for +Jan's amusement; plans in which, of course, she proposed to take no part +herself. Jan listened in considerable dismay to arrangements which +appeared to her to make enormous inroads into Peter Ledgard's leisure +hours. He and his motor seemed to be quite at Fay's disposal, and Jan +found the situation both bewildering and embarrassing. + +"What a nuisance for him," she reflected, "to have a young woman thrust +upon him in this fashion. It won't do to upset Fay, but I must tell him +at the first opportunity that none of these projects hold good." + +Directly tea was over Fay almost hustled them out to go and buy a topee +for Jan, and suggested that, having accomplished this, they should look +in at the Yacht Club for an hour, "because it was band-night," and Jan +would like the Yacht Club lawn, with the sea and the boats and all the +cheerful people. + +As the car slid into the crowded traffic of the Esplanade Road, Peter +pointed to a large building on the left, saying, "There's the Army and +Navy Stores, quite close to you, you see. You can always get anything +you want there. I'll give you my number ... not that it matters." + +"I've belonged for years to the one at home," said Jan, "and I +understand the same number will do." + +She felt she really could not be beholden to this strange young man for +everything, even a Stores number; and that she had better make the +situation clear at once that she had come to take care of Fay and not to +be an additional anxiety to him. At that moment she felt almost jealous +of Peter. Fay seemed to turn to him for everything. + +When they reached the shop where topees were to be got, she heard a +familiar, booming voice. Had she been alone she would certainly have +turned and fled, deferring her purchase till Sir Langham Sykes had +concluded his, but she could hardly explain her rather complicated +reasons to Peter, who told the Eurasian assistant to bring topees for +her inspection. + +Jan tried vainly to efface herself behind a tailor's dummy, but her back +was reflected in the very mirror which also reproduced Sir Langham in +the act of trying on a khaki-coloured topee. He saw her and at once +hurried in her direction, exclaiming: + +"Ah, Miss Ross, run to earth! You slipped off this morning without +bidding me good-bye, and I've been wonderin' all day where we should +meet. Now let me advise you about your topee. _I'll_ choose it for you, +then you can't go wrong. Get a large one, mind, or the back of your nice +little neck will be burnt the colour of the toast they gave us on the +_Carnduff_--shockin' toast, wasn't it? No, not that shape, idiot ... +unless you're goin' to ride, are you? If so, you must have one of +each--a large one, I said--what the devil's the use of that? You must +wear it _well_ on your head, mind; you can't show much of that pretty +grey hair that puzzled us all so--eh, w'at?" + +Jan had been white enough as she entered the shop, for she was beginning +to feel quite amazingly tired; but now the face under the overshadowing +topee was crimson and she was hopelessly confused and helpless in the +overpowering of Sir Langham, who, when he could for a moment detach his +mind from Jan, looked with considerable curiosity at Peter. + +Peter stood there silent, aloof, detached; and he appeared quite cool. +Jan felt the atmosphere to be almost insufferably close, and heaved a +sigh of gratitude when he suddenly turned on an electric fan above her +head. + +"I think this will do," she said, in a faint voice to the assistant, +though the crinkly green lining round the crown seemed searing her very +brain. + +Peter intervened, asking: "Is it comfortable? No ..." as she took it +off. "I can see it isn't. It has marked your forehead already. Don't be +in a hurry. They'll probably need to alter the lining. Some women have +it taken out altogether. Pins keep it on all right." + +Thus encouraged, she tried on others, and all the time Sir Langham held +forth at the top of his voice, interrupting his announcement that he was +dining at Government House that very night to swear at the assistant +when he brought topees that did not fit, and giving his opinion of her +appearance with the utmost frankness, till Jan found one that seemed +rather less uncomfortable than the rest. Then in desperation she +introduced Sir Langham to Peter. + +"Your sister-in-law looks a bit tucked up," he remarked affably. "We'd +better take her to the Yacht Club and give her a peg--she seems to feel +the heat." + +Jan cast one despairing, imploring glance at Peter, who rose to the +occasion nobly. + +"You're quite right," he said. "This place is infernally stuffy. Come +on. They know where to send it. Good afternoon sir," and before she +realised what had happened Peter seized her by the arm and swept her out +of the shop and into the front seat of the car, stepped over her and +himself took the steering-wheel. + +While Sir Langham's voice bayed forth a mixture of expostulation and +assignation at the Yacht Club later on. + +"Now where shall we go?" asked Peter. + +"Not the Yacht Club," Jan besought him. "He's coming there; he said so. +Isn't he dreadful? Did you mind very much being taken for my +brother-in-law? He has no idea who he really is, or I wouldn't have let +it pass ... but I felt I could never explain ... I'm so sorry...." + +Her face was white enough now. + +"It would have been absurd to explain, and it's I who should apologise +for the free-and-easy way I carried you off, but it was clearly a case +for strong measures, or he'd have insisted on coming with us. What an +awful little man! Did you have him all the voyage? No wonder you look +tired.... I hope he didn't sit at your table...." + +Once out of doors, the delicious breeze from the sea that springs up +every evening in Bombay revived her. She forgot Sir Langham, for a few +minutes she even forgot Fay and her anxieties in sheer pleasure in the +prospect, as the car fell into its place in the crowded traffic of the +Queen's Road. + +Jan never forgot that drive. He ran her out to Chowpatty, where the +road lies along the shore and the carriages of Mohammedan, Hindu and +Parsee gentlemen stand in serried rows while their picturesque occupants +"eat the air" in passive and contented Eastern fashion; then up to Ridge +Road on Malabar Hill, where he stopped that she might get out and walk +to the edge of the wooded cliff and look down at the sea and the great +city lying bathed in that clear golden light only to be found at sunset +in the East. + +Peter enjoyed her evident appreciation of it all. She said very little, +but she looked fresh and rested again, and he was conscious of a quite +unusual pleasure in her mere presence as they stood together in the +green garden, got and kept by such infinite pains and care, that borders +the road running along the top of Malabar Hill. + +Suddenly she turned. "We mustn't wait another minute," she said. "You, +doubtless, want to go to the club. It has been very good of you to spend +so much time with me. What makes it all so beautiful is that everywhere +one sees the sea. I will tell Fay how much I have enjoyed it." + +Peter's eyes met hers and held them: "Try to think of me as a friend, +Miss Ross. I can see you are thoroughly capable and independent; but, +believe me, India is not like England, and a white woman needs a good +many things done for her here if she's to be at all comfortable. I don't +want to butt in and be a nuisance; but just remember I'm there when the +bell rings----" + +"I am not likely to forget," said Jan. + +Lights began to twinkle in the city below. The soft monotonous throb of +tom-toms came beating through the ambient air like a pulse of teeming +life; and when he left her at her sister's door the purple darkness of +an Eastern night had curtained off the sea. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE BEGINNING OF THE JOB + + +Fay was still lying on her long chair in the verandah when Jan got in. +She had turned on the electric light above her head and had, seemingly, +been working at some diminutive garment of nainsook and lace. She looked +up at Jan's step, asking eagerly, "Well, did you like it? Did you see +many people? Was the band good?" + +Jan sat down beside her and explained that Peter had taken her for a +drive instead. She made her laugh over her encounter with Sir Langham, +and was enthusiastic about the view from Malabar Hill. Then Fay sent her +to say good night to the children, who were just getting ready for bed. + +As she went down the long passage towards the nursery, she heard small +voices chattering in Hindustani, and as she opened the door little Fay +was in the act of stepping out of all her clothes. + +Tony was already clad in pink pyjamas, which made him look paler than +ever. + +Little Fay, naked as any shameless cherub on a Renaissance festoon, +danced across the tiled floor, and, pausing directly in front of her +aunt, announced: + +"I sall mack Ayah as muts as I like." + +The good-natured Goanese ayah salaamed and, beaming upon her charge, +murmured entire acquiescence. + +Jan looked down at the absurd round atom who defied her, and, trying +hard not to laugh, said: + +"Oh, no, you won't." + +"I sall!" the baby declared even more emphatically, and, lifting up her +adorable, obstinate little face to look at Jan, nodded her curly head +vigorously. + +"I think not," Jan remarked rather unsteadily, "because if you do, +people won't like you. We can none of us go about smacking innocent +folks just for the fun of it. Everybody would be shocked and horrified." + +"Socked and hollified," echoed little Fay, delighted with the new words, +"socked and hollified!... What nelse?" + +"What usually follows is that the disagreeable little girl gets smacked +herself." + +"No," said Fay, but a thought doubtfully. "No," more firmly. Then with a +smile that was subtly compounded of pathos and confidence, "Nobody would +mack plitty little Fay ... 'cept ... plapse ... Auntie Dzan." + +The stern aunt in question snatched up her niece to cover her with +kisses. Ayah escaped chastisement that evening, for, arrayed in a white +nighty, "plitty little Fay" sat good as gold on Jan's knee, absorbed in +the interest of "This little pig went to market," told on her own toes. +Even Tony, the aloof and unfriendly, consented to unbend to the extent +of being interested in the dialogue of "John Smith and Minnie Bowl, can +you shoe a little foal?" and actually thrust out his own bare feet that +Jan might make them take part in the drama of the "twa wee doggies who +went to the market," and came back "louper-scamper, louper-scamper." + +At the end of every song or legend came the inevitable "What nelse?" +from little Fay--and Jan only escaped after the most solemn promises had +been exacted for a triple bill on the morrow. + +When she had changed and went back to the sitting-room, dinner was +ready. Lalkhan again bent over her with fatherly solicitude as he +offered each course, and this time Jan, being really hungry, rather +enjoyed his ministrations. A boy assisted at the sideboard, and another +minion appeared to bring the dishes from the kitchen, for the butler and +the boy never left the room for an instant. + +Fay looked like a tired ghost, and Jan could see that it was a great +effort to her to talk cheerfully and seem interested in the home news. + +After dinner they went back to the sitting-room. Lalkhan brought coffee +and Fay lit a cigarette. Jan wandered round, looking at the photographs +and engravings on the walls. + +"How is it," she asked, "that Mr. Ledgard seems to come in so many of +these groups? Did you rent the flat from a friend of his?" + +"I didn't 'rent' the flat from anybody," Fay answered. "It's Peter's own +flat. He lent it to us." + +Jan turned and stared at her sister. "Mr. Ledgard's flat!" she +repeated. "And what is he doing?" + +"He's living at the club just now. He turned out when we came. Don't +look at me like that, Jan.... There was nothing else to be done." + +Jan came back and sat on the edge of the big sofa. "But I understood +Hugo's letter to say...." + +"Whatever Hugo said in his letter was probably lies. If Peter hadn't +lent us his flat, I should have had nowhere to lay my head. Who do you +suppose would let us a flat here, after all that has happened, unless we +paid in advance, and how could we do that without any ready money? Why, +a flat like this unfurnished costs over three hundred rupees a month. I +don't know what a furnished flat would be." + +"But--isn't it ... taking a great deal from Mr. Ledgard?" Jan asked +timidly. + +Fay stretched out her hand and suddenly switched off the lights, so that +they were left together on the big sofa in the soft darkness. + +"Give me your hand, Jan. I shall be less afraid of you when I just feel +you and can't see you." + +"Why should you be afraid of me?... Dear, dear Fay, you must remember +how little I really know. How can I understand?" + +Fay leant against her sister and held her close. "Sometimes I feel as if +I couldn't understand it all myself. But you mustn't worry about Peter's +flat. We'll all go home the minute I can be moved. He doesn't mind, +really ... and there was nothing else to be done." + +"Does Hugo know you are here?" + +Fay laughed, a sad, bitter little laugh. "It was Hugo who asked Peter to +lend his flat." + +"Then what about his servants? What has he done with them while you are +here?" + +"These are his servants." + +"But Hugo said...." + +"Jan, dear, it is no use quoting Hugo to me. I can tell you the sort of +thing he would say.... Did he mention Peter at all?" + +"Certainly not. He said you were 'installed in a most comfortable flat' +and had brought your own servants." + +"I brought Ayah--naturally, Peter hadn't an ayah. But why do you object +to his servants? They're very good." + +"But don't they think it ... a little odd?" + +"Oh, you can't bother about what servants think in India. They think us +all mad anyway." + +There was silence for a few minutes while Jan realised the fact that, +dislike it as she might, she seemed fated to be laid under considerable +obligation to Mr. Peter Ledgard. + +"Where is Hugo?" she asked at last. + +"My dear, you appear to have heard from Hugo since I have. As to his +whereabouts I haven't the remotest idea." + +"Do you mean to say, Fay, that he hasn't let you know where he is?" + +"He didn't come with us to the flat because he was afraid he'd be seized +for debts and things. We've only been here a fortnight. He's probably +on board ship somewhere--there hasn't been much time for him to let me +know...." + +Fay spoke plaintively, as though Jan were rather hard on Hugo in +expecting him to give his wife any account of his movements. + +Jan was glad it was dark. She felt bewildered and oppressed and very, +very angry with her brother-in-law, who seemed to have left his entire +household in the care of Peter Ledgard. Was Peter paying for their very +food, she wondered? She'd put a stop to that, anyhow. + +"Jan"--she felt Fay lean a little closer--"don't be down on me. You've +no idea how hard it has all been. You're such a daylight person +yourself." + +"Hard on you, my precious! I could never feel the least little bit hard. +Only it's all so puzzling. And what do you mean by a 'daylight person'?" + +"You know, Jan, for three months now I've been a lot alone, and I've +done a deal of thinking--more than ever in all my life before; and it +seems to me that the world is divided into three kinds of people--the +daylight people, and the twilight people and the night people." + +Fay paused. Jan stroked her hot, thin hand, but did not speak, and the +tired, whispering voice went on: "_We_ were daylight people--Daddie was +very daylight. There were never any mysteries; we all of us knew always +where each of us was, and there were no secrets and no queer people +coming for interviews, and it wouldn't have mattered very much if +anyone _had_ opened one of our letters. Oh, it's such an _easy_ life in +the daylight country...." + +"And in the twilight country?" asked Jan. + +"Ah, there it's very different. Everything is mysterious. You never know +where anyone has gone, and if he's away queer people--quite horrid +people--come and ask for him and won't go away, and sit in the verandah +and cheek the butler and the boy and insist on seeing the 'memsahib,' +and when she screws up her courage and goes to them, they ask for money, +and show dirty bits of paper and threaten, and it's all awful--till +somebody like Peter comes and kicks them out, and then they simply fly." + +In spite of her irritation at being beholden to him, Jan began to feel +grateful to Peter. + +"Sometimes," Fay continued, "I think it would be easier to be a night +person. They've no appearances to keep up. You see, what makes it so +difficult for the twilight people is that they _want_ to live in the +daylight, and it's too strong for them. All the night people whom they +know--and if you're twilight you know lots of 'em--come and drag them +back. _They_ don't care. They rather like to go right in among the +daylight folk and scare and shock them, and make them uncomfortable. You +_can't_ suffer in the same way when you've gone under altogether." + +"But, Fay dear," Jan interposed, "you talk as though the twilight people +couldn't help it...." + +"They can't--they truly can't." + +"But surely there's right and wrong, straightness and crookedness, and +no one _need_ be crooked." + +"People like you needn't--but everybody isn't strong like that. Hugo +says every man has his price, and every woman too--Peter says so, too." + +"Then Peter ought to be ashamed of himself. Do you suppose _he_ has his +price?" + +"No, not in that way. He'd think it silly to be pettifogging and +dishonest about money, or to go in for mad speculations run by shady +companies; but he wouldn't think it _extraordinary_ like you." + +"I'm afraid my education has been neglected. A great many things seem +extraordinary to me." + +"You think it funny I should be living in Peter's flat, waited on by +Peter's servants--but what else could I do?" + +Jan smiled in the darkness. She saw where her niece had got "what +nelse?" + +"Isn't it just a little--unusual?" she asked gently. "Is there no money +at all, Fay? What has become of all your own?" + +"It's not all gone," Fay said eagerly. "I think there's nearly two +thousand pounds left, but Peter made me write home--that was at +Dariawarpur, before he came down here--and say no more was to be sent +out, not even if I wrote myself to ask for it--and _he_ wrote to Mr. +Davidson too----" + +"I know somebody wrote. Mr. Davidson was very worried ... but what _can_ +Hugo have done with eight thousand pounds in two years? Besides his +pay...." + +"Eight thousand pounds doesn't go far when you've dealings with +money-lenders and mines in Peru--but _I_ don't understand it--don't ask +me. I believe he left me a little money--I don't know how much--at a +bank in Elphinstone Circle--but I haven't liked to write and find out, +lest it should be very little ... or none...." + +"Mercy!" exclaimed Jan. "It surely would be better to know for certain." + +"When you've lived in the twilight country as long as I have you'll not +want to know anything for certain. It's only when things are wrapped up +in a merciful haze of obscurity that life is tolerable at all. Do you +suppose I _wanted_ to find out that my husband was a rascal? I shut my +eyes to it as long as I could, and then Truth came with all her cruel +tools and pried them open. Oh, Jan, it did hurt so!" + +If Fay had cried, if her voice had even broken or she had seemed deeply +moved, it would have been more bearable. It was the poor thing's +calm--almost indifference--that frightened Jan. For it proved that her +perceptions were numbed. + +Fay had been tortured till she could feel nothing acutely any more. Jan +had the feeling that in some dreadful, inscrutable way her sister was +shut away from her in some prison-house of the mind. + +And who shall break through those strange, intangible, impenetrable +walls of unshared experience? + +Jan swallowed her tears and said cheerfully: "Well, it's all going to be +different now. You needn't worry about anything any more. If Hugo has +left no money we'll manage without. Mr. Davidson will let me have what I +want ... but we must be careful, because of the children." + +"And you'll try not to mind living in Peter's flat?" Fay said, rubbing +her head against Jan's shoulder. "It's India, you know, and men are very +kind out here--much friendlier than they are at home." + +"So it seems." + +"You needn't think there's anything wrong, Jan. Peter isn't in love with +me now." + +"Was he ever in love with you?" + +"Oh, yes, a bit, once; when he first came to Dariawarpur ... lots of +them were then. I really was very pretty, and I had quite a little court +... but when the bad times came and people began to look shy at +Hugo--everybody was nice to me always--then Peter seemed different. +There was no more philandering, he was just ... Oh, Jan, he was just +such a daylight person, and might have been Daddie. I should have died +without him." + +"Fay, tell me--I'll never ask again--was Hugo unkind to you?" + +"No, Jan, truly not unkind. He shut me away from the greater part of his +life ... and there were other people ... not ladies"--Fay felt the +shoulder she leant against stiffen--"but I didn't know that for quite a +long time ... and he wasn't ever surly or cross or grudging. He always +wanted me to have everything very nice, and I really believe he always +hoped the mines and things would make lots of money.... You know, Jan, +I'd _rather_ believe in people. I daresay you think I'm weak and stupid +... but I can never understand wives who set detectives on their +husbands." + +"It isn't done by the best people," Jan said with a laugh that was half +a sob. "Let's hope it isn't often necessary...." + +Fay drew a little closer: "Oh, you are dear not to be stern and +scolding...." + +"It's not you I feel like scolding." + +"If you scolded him, he'd agree with every word, so that you simply +couldn't go on ... and then he'd go away and do just the same things +over again, and fondly hope you'd never hear of it. But he _was_ kind in +lots of ways. He didn't drink----" + +"I don't see anything so very creditable in that," Jan interrupted. + +"Well, it's one of the things he didn't do--and we had the nicest +bungalow in the station and by far the best motor--a much smarter motor +than the Resident. And it was only when I discovered that Hugo had made +out I was an heiress that I began to feel uncomfortable." + +"Was he good to the children?" + +"He hardly saw them. Children don't interest him much. He liked little +Fay because she's so pretty, but I don't think he cared a great deal for +Tony. Tony is queer and judging. Don't take a dislike to Tony, Jan; he +needs a long time, but once you've got him he stays for ever--will you +remember that?" + +Again, Jan felt that cold hand laid on her heart, the hand of chill +foreboding. She had noticed many times already that when Fay was off her +guard she always talked as though, for her, everything were ended, and +she was only waiting for something. There seemed no permanence in her +relations with them all. + +A shadowy white figure lifted the curtain between the two rooms and +stood salaaming. + +Jan started violently. She was not yet accustomed to the soundless naked +feet of the servants whose presence might be betrayed by a rustle, never +by a step. + +It was Ayah waiting to know if Fay would like to go to bed. + +"Shall I go, Jan? Are you tired?" + +Jan was, desperately tired, for she had had no sleep the night before, +but Fay's voice had in it a little tremor of fear that showed she +dreaded the night. + +"Send her to bed, poor thing. I'll look after you, brush your hair and +tuck you up and all.... Fay, oughtn't you to have somebody in your room? +Couldn't my cot be put in there, just to sleep?" + +"Oh, Jan, would you? Don't you mind?" + +"Shall I help her to move it?" Jan said, getting up. + +Fay pulled her down again. "You funny Jan, you can't do that sort of +thing here. The servants will do it." + +She sat up, gave a rapid, eager order to Ayah, and in a few minutes Jan +heard her bed being wheeled down the passage. Every room had wide +double doors--like French rooms--and there was no difficulty. + +Fay sank down again among her cushions with a great sigh of relief: "I +don't mind now how soon I go to bed. I shan't be frightened in the long +dark night any more. Oh, Jan, you _are_ a dear daylight person!" + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE CHILDREN + + +Jan made headway with Tony and little Fay. An aunt who carried one +pick-a-back; who trotted, galloped, or curvetted to command as an +animated steed; who provided spades and buckets, and herself, getting up +very early, took them and the children to an adorable sandy beach, +deserted save for two or three solitary horsemen; an aunt who dug holes +and built castles and was indirectly the means of thrilling rides upon a +real horse, when Peter was encountered as one of the mounted few taking +exercise before breakfast; such an aunt could not be regarded otherwise +than as an acquisition, even though she did at times exert authority and +insist upon obedience. + +She got it, too; especially from little Fay, who, hitherto, had obeyed +nobody. Tony, less wilful and not so prone to be destructive, was +secretly still unwon, though outwardly quite friendly. He waited and +watched and weighed Jan in the balance of his small judgment. Tony was +never in any hurry to make up his mind. + +One great hold Jan had was a seemingly inexhaustible supply of rhymes, +songs, and stories, and she was, moreover, of a telling disposition. + +Both children had a quite unusual passion for new words. Little Fay +would stop short in the midst of the angriest yells if anyone called her +conduct in question by some new term of opprobrium. Ayah's vocabulary +was limited, even in the vernacular, and nothing would have induced her +to return railing for railing to the children, however sorely they +abused her. But Jan occasionally freed her mind, and at such times her +speech was terse and incisive. Moreover, she quickly perceived her power +over her niece in this respect, and traded on the baby's quick ear and +interest. + +One day there was a tremendous uproar in the nursery just after tiffin, +when poor Fay usually tried to get the sleep that would partially atone +for her restless night. Jan swept down the passage and into the room, to +find her niece netted in her cot, and bouncing up and down like a +newly-landed trout, while Ayah wrestled with a struggling Tony, who +tried to drown his sister's screams with angry cries of "Let me get at +her to box her," and, failing that, vigorously boxing Ayah. + +Jan closed the door behind her and stood where she was, saying in the +quiet, compelling voice they had both already learned to respect: "It's +time for Mummy's sleep, and how can Mummy sleep in such a pandemonium?" + +Little Fay paused in the very middle of a yell and her face twinkled +through the restraining net. + +"Pandemolium," she echoed, joyously rolling it over on her tongue with +obvious gusto. + +"Pandemolium." + +"She kickened and fit with me," Tony cried angrily. "I _must_ box her." + +"Pandemolium?" little Fay repeated inquiringly. "What nelse?" + +"Yes," said Jan, trying hard not to laugh; "that's exactly what it was +... disgraceful." + +"What nelse?" little Fay persisted. She had heard disgraceful before. It +lacked novelty. + +"All sorts of horrid things," said Jan. "Selfish and odious and +ill-bred----" + +"White bled, blown bled, ill-bled," the person under the net chanted. +"What nother bled?" + +"There's well-bred," said Jan severely, "and that's what neither you nor +Tony are at the present moment." + +"There's toas' too," said the voice from under the net, ignoring the +personal application. "Sall we have some?" + +"Certainly not," Jan answered with great sternness. "People who riot and +brawl----" + +"Don't like zose words," the netted one interrupted distastefully (R's +always stumped her), "naughty words." + +"Not so naughty as the people who do it. Has Ayah had her dinner? No? +Then poor Ayah must go and have it, and I shall stay here and tell a +very soft, whispery story to people who are quiet and good, who lie in +their cots and don't quarrel----" + +"Or blawl" came from the net in a small determined voice. She could not +let the new word pass after all. + +"Exactly ... or brawl," Jan repeated in tones nothing like so firm. + +"She kickened and fit me, she did," Tony mumbled moodily as he climbed +into his cot: "Can't I box her nor nothing?" + +"Not now," Jan said, soothingly. Ayah salaamed and hurried away. She, at +all events, had cause to bless Jan, for now she got her meals with fair +regularity and in peace. + +In a few minutes the room was as quiet as an empty church, save for a +low voice that related an interminable story about "Cockie-Lockie and +Henny-Penny going to tell the King the lift's fallen," till one, at all +events, of the "blawlers" was sound asleep. + +The voice ceased and Tony's head appeared over the rail of his cot. + +"Hush!" Jan whispered. "Sister's asleep. Just wait a few minutes till +Ayah comes, then I'll take you away with me." + +Faithful Ayah didn't dawdle over her food. She returned, sat down on the +floor beside little Fay's cot and started her endless mending. + +Jan carried Tony away with her along the passage and into the +drawing-room. The verandah was too hot in the early afternoon. + +"Now what shall we do?" she asked, with a sigh, as she sat down on the +big sofa. "_I'd_ like to sleep, but I suppose you won't let me." + +Tony got off her knee and looked at her gravely. + +"You can," he said, magnanimously, "because you brought me. I hate bed. +I'll build a temple with my bricks and I won't knock it down. Not +loud." + +And like his aunt he did what he said. + +Jan put her feet up and lay very still. For a week now she had risen +early every morning to take the children out in the freshest part of the +day. She seldom got any rest in the afternoon, as she saw to it that +they should be quiet to let Fay sleep, and she went late to bed because +the cool nights in the verandah were the pleasant time for Fay. + +Tony murmured to himself, but he made little noise with his stone +bricks. And presently Jan was sleeping almost as soundly as her +obstreperous niece. + +Tony did not repeat new words aloud as did his sister. He turned them +over in his mind and treasured some simply because he liked the sound of +them. + +There were two that he had carried in his memory for nearly half his +life; two that had for him a mysterious fascination, a vaguely agreeable +significance that he couldn't at all explain. One was "Piccadilly" and +the other "Coln St. Aldwyn's." He didn't even know that they were the +names of places at first, but he thought they had a most beautiful +sound. Gradually the fact that they were places filtered into his mind, +and for Tony Piccadilly seemed particularly rural. He connected it in +some way with the duck-slaying Mrs. Bond of the Baby's Opera, a book he +and Mummy used to sing from before she grew too tired and sad to sing. +Before she lay so many hours in her long chair, before the big man he +called Daddie became so furtive and disturbing. Then Mummy used to tell +him things about a place called Home, and though she never actually +mentioned Piccadilly he had heard the word very often in a song that +somebody sang in the drawing-room at Dariawarpur. + +Theatricals had been towards and Mummy was acting, and people came to +practise their songs with her, for not only did she sing herself +delightfully, but she played accompaniments well for other people. The +play was a singing play, and the Assistant Superintendent of Police, a +small, fair young man with next to no voice and a very clear +enunciation, continually practised a song that described someone as +walking "down Piccadilly with a tulip or a lily in his mediæval hand." + +Tony rather liked "mediæval" too, but not so much as Piccadilly. A +flowery way, he was sure, with real grass in it like the Resident's +garden. Besides, the "dilly" suggested "daffy-down dilly come up to town +in a yellow petticoat and a green gown." + +But not even Piccadilly could compete with Coln St. Aldwyn's in Tony's +affections. There was something about that suggestive of exquisite peace +and loveliness, no mosquitoes and many friendly beasts. He had only +heard the word once by chance in connection with the mysterious place +called Home, in some casual conversation when no one thought he was +listening. He seized upon it instantly and it became a priceless +possession, comforting in times of stress, soothing at all times, a sort +of refuge from a real world that had lately been very puzzling for a +little boy. + +He was certain that at Coln St. Aldwyn's there was a mighty forest +peopled by all the nicest animals. Dogs that were ever ready to extend a +welcoming paw, elephants and mild clumsy buffaloes that gave good milk +to the thirsty. Little grey squirrels frolicked in the branches of the +trees, and the tiny birds Mummy told him about that lived in the yew +hedge at Wren's End. Tony had himself been to Wren's End he was told, +but he was only one at the time, and beyond a feeling that he liked the +name and that it was a very green place his ideas about it were hazy. + +Sometimes he wished it had been called "Wren St. Endwyn's," but after +mature reflection he decided it was but a poor imitation of the real +thing, so he kept the two names separate in his mind. + +He had added two more names to his collection since he came to Bombay. +"Mahaluxmi," the road running beside the sea, where Peter sometimes took +them and Auntie Jan for a drive after tea when it was high tide; and +"Taraporevala," who owned a famous book-shop in Medow Street where he +had once been in a tikka-gharri with Auntie Jan to get some books for +Mummy. Peter had recommended the shop, and the name instantly seized +upon Tony's imagination and will remain with it evermore. He never for +one moment connected it with the urbane gentleman in eyeglasses and a +funny little round hat who owned the shop. For Tony "Taraporevala" will +always suggest endless vistas of halls, fitted with books, shelves, and +tall stacks of books, and counters laden with piles of books. It seemed +amazing to find anything so vast in such a narrow street. There was +something magic about it, like the name. Tony was sure that some day +when he should explore the forest of Coln St. Aldwyn he would come upon +a little solid door in a great rock. A little solid door studded with +heavy nails and leading to a magic cave full of unimaginable treasure. +This door should only open to the incantation of "Taraporevala." None of +your "abracadabras" for him. + +And just as Mummy had talked much of "Wren's End" in happier days, so +now Auntie Jan told them endless stories about it and what they would +all do there when they went home. Some day, when he knew her better, he +would ask her about Coln St. Aldwyn's. He felt he didn't know her +intimately enough to do so yet, but he was gradually beginning to have +some faith in her. She was a well-instructed person, too, on the whole, +and she answered a straight question in a straight way. + +It was one of the things Tony could never condone in the big man called +Daddie, that he could never answer the simplest question. He always +asked another in return, and there was derision of some sort concealed +in this circuitous answer. Doubtless he meant to be pleasant and +amusing--Tony was just enough to admit that--but he was, so Tony felt, +profoundly mistaken in the means he sought. He took liberties, too; +punching liberties that knocked the breath out of a small boy's body +without actually hurting much; and he never, never talked sense. Tony +resented this. Like the Preacher, he felt there was a time to jest and a +time to refrain from jesting, and it didn't amuse him a bit to be +punched and rumpled and told he was a surly little devil if he attempted +to punch back. In some vague way Tony felt that it wasn't playing the +game--if it was a game. Often, too, for the past year and more, he +connected the frequent disappearances of the big man with trouble for +Mummy. Tony understood Hindustani as well as and better than English. +His extensive vocabulary in the former would have astonished his +mother's friends had they been able to translate, and he understood a +good deal of the servants' talk. He felt no real affection for the big, +tiresome man, though he admired him, his size, his good looks, and a way +he had with grown-up people; but he decided quite dispassionately, on +evidence and without any rancour, that the big man was a "budmash," for +he, unlike Auntie Jan, never did anything he said he'd do. And when, +before they left Dariawarpur, the big man entirely disappeared, Tony +felt no sorrow, only some surprise that having said he was going he +actually had gone. Auntie Jan never mentioned him, Mummy had reminded +them both always to include him when they said their prayers, but +latterly Mummy had been too tired to come to hear prayers. Auntie Jan +came instead, and Tony, watching her face out of half-shut eyes, tried +leaving out "bless Daddie" to see if anything happened. Sure enough +something did; Auntie Jan looked startled. "Say 'Bless Daddie,' Tony, +'and please help him.'" + +"To do what?" Tony asked. "Not to come back here?" + +"I don't think he'll come back here just now," Auntie Jan said in a +frightened sort of whisper, "but he needs help badly." + +Tony folded his hands devoutly and said, "Bless Daddie and please help +him--to stay away just now." + +And low down under her breath Jan said, "Amen." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE SHADOW BEFORE + + +Jan had been a week in Bombay, and her grave anxiety about Fay was in no +way lessened. Rather did it increase and intensify, for not only did her +bodily strength seem to ebb from her almost visibly day by day, but her +mind seemed so detached and aloof from both present and future. + +It was only when Jan talked about the past, about their happy girlhood +and their lovable comrade-father, that Fay seemed to take hold and +understand. All that had happened before his death seemed real and vital +to her. But when Jan tried to interest her in plans for the future, the +voyage home, the children, the baby that was due so soon, Fay looked at +her with tired, lack-lustre eyes and seemed at once to become +absent-minded and irrelevant. + +She was ready enough to discuss the characters of the children, to +impress upon Jan the fact that Tony was not unloving, only cautious and +slow before he really gave his affection. That little Fay was exactly +what she appeared on the surface--affectionate, quick, wilful, and +already conscious of her own power through her charm. + +"I defy anybody to quarrel with Fay when she is willing to make it up," +her mother said. "Tony melts like wax before the warmth of her +advances. She may have behaved atrociously to him five minutes +before--Ayah lets her, and I am far too weak with her--but if _she_ +wants to be friends Tony forgets and condones everything. Was I very +naughty to you, Jan, as a baby?" + +"Not that I can remember. I think you were very biddable and good." + +"And you?" + +Jan laughed--"There you have me. I believe I was most naughty and +obstreperous, and have vivid recollections of being sent to bed for +various offences. You see, Mother was far too strong and wise to spoil +me as little Fay is spoilt. Father tried his best, but you remember +Hannah? Could you imagine Hannah submitting for one moment to the sort +of treatment that baby metes out to poor, patient Ayah every single +day?" + +"By the way, how is Hannah?" + +"Hannah is in her hardy usual. She is going strong, and has developed +all sorts of latent talent as a cook. She was with me in the furnished +flat I rented till the day I left (I only took it by the month), and +she'll be with us again when we all get back to Wren's End." + +"But I thought Wren's End was let?" + +"Only till March quarter-day, and I've cabled to the agent not to +entertain any other offer, as we want it ourselves." + +"I like to think of the children at Wren's End," Fay said dreamily. + +"Don't you like to think of yourself there, too? Would you like any +other place better?" + +Jan's voice sounded constrained and a little hard. People sometimes +speak crossly when they are frightened, and just then Jan felt the cold, +skinny hands of some unnameable terror clutching her heart. Why did Fay +always exclude herself from all plans? + +They were, as usual, sitting in the verandah after dinner, and Fay's +eyes were fixed on the deeply blue expanse of sky. She hardly seemed to +hear Jan, for she continued: "Do you remember the sketch Daddie did of +me against the yew hedge? I'd like Tony to have that some day if you'd +let him." + +"Of course that picture is yours," Jan said, hastily. "We never divided +the pictures when he died. Some were sold and we shared the money, but +our pictures are at Wren's End." + +"I remember that money," Fay interrupted. "Hugo was so pleased about it, +and gave me a diamond chain." + +"Fay, where do you keep your jewellery?" + +"There isn't any to keep now. He 'realised' it all long before we left +Dariawarpur." + +"What do you mean, Fay? Has Hugo pawned it? All Mother's things, too?" + +"I don't know what he did with it," Fay said, wearily. "He told me it +wasn't safe in Dariawarpur, as there were so many robbers about that hot +weather, and he took all the things in their cases to send to the bank. +And I never saw them again." + +Jan said nothing, but she reflected rather ruefully that when Fay +married she had let her have nearly all their mother's ornaments, partly +because Fay loved jewels as jewels, and Jan cared little for them +except as associations. "If I'd kept more," Jan thought, "they'd have +come in for little Fay. Now there's nothing except what Daddie gave me." + +"Are you sorry, Jan?" Fay asked, presently. "I suppose there again you +think I ought to have stood out, to have made inquiries and insisted on +getting a receipt from the bank. But I knew very well they were not +going to the bank. I don't think they fetched much, but Hugo looked a +little less harassed after he'd got them. I've nothing left now but my +wedding ring and the little enamel chain like yours, that Daddie gave us +the year he had that portrait of Meg in the Salon and took us over to +see it. Where is Meg? Has she come back yet?" + +"Meg is still in Bremen with an odious German family, but she leaves at +the end of the Christmas holidays, as the girl is going to school, and +Meg will be utilised to bring her over. Then she's to have a rest for a +month or two, and I daresay she'd come to Wren's End and help us with +the babies when we get back." + +Fay leant forward and said eagerly, "Try to get her, Jan. I'd love to +think she was there to help you." + +"To help us," Jan repeated firmly. + +Fay sighed. "I can never think of myself as of much use any more; +besides ... Oh, Jan, won't you face it? You who are so brave about +facing things ... I don't believe I shall come through--this time." + +Jan got up and walked restlessly about the verandah. She tried to make +herself say, heard her own voice saying without any conviction, that it +was nonsense; that Fay was run down and depressed and no wonder; and +that she would feel quite different in a month or two. And all the time, +though her voice said these preposterously banal things, her brain +repeated the doctor's words after his last visit: "I wish there was a +little more stamina, Miss Ross. I don't like this complete inertia. It's +not natural. Can't you rouse her at all?" + +"My sister has had a very trying time, you know. She seems thoroughly +worn out." + +"I know, I know," the doctor had said. "A bad business and cruelly hard +on her; but I wish we could get her strength up a bit somehow. I don't +like it--this lack of interest in everything--I don't like it." And the +doctor's thin, clever face looked lined and worried as he left. + +His words rang in Jan's ears, drowning her own spoken words that seemed +such a hollow sham. + +She went and knelt by Fay's long chair. Fay touched her cheek very +gently (little Fay had the same adorable tender gestures). "It would +make it easier for both of us if you'd face it, my dear," she said. "I +could talk much more sensibly then and make plans, and perhaps really be +of some use. But I feel a wretched hypocrite to talk of sharing in +things when I know perfectly well I shan't be there." + +"Don't you want to be there?" Jan asked, hoarsely. + +[Illustration: "It would make it easier for both of us if you'd face it, +my dear."] + +Fay shook her head. "I know it's mean to shuffle out of it all, but I +_am_ so tired. Do you think it very horrid of me, Jan?" + +In silence Jan held her close; and in that moment she faced it. + +The days went on, strange, quiet days of brilliant sunshine. Their daily +life shrouded from the outside world even as the verandah was shrouded +from the sun when Lalkhan let down the chicks every day after tiffin. + +Peter was their only visitor besides the doctor, and Peter came +practically every day. He generally took Jan out after tea, sometimes +with the children, sometimes alone. He even went with her to the bank in +Elphinstone Circle, so like a bit of Edinburgh, with its solid stone +houses, and found that Hugo actually had lodged fifty pounds there in +Fay's name. The clerks looked curiously at Jan, for they thought she was +Mrs. Tancred. Every one in business or official circles in Bombay knew +about Hugo Tancred. His conduct had, for a while, even ousted the usual +topics of conversation--money, food, and woman--from the bazaars; and an +exhaustive discussion of it was only kept out of the Native Press by the +combined efforts of the Police and his own Department. Jan gained from +Peter a fairly clear idea of the _débâcle_ that had occurred in Hugo +Tancred's life. She no longer wondered that Fay refused to leave the +bungalow. She began to feel branded herself. + +For Jan, Peter's visits had come to have something of the relief the +loosening of a too-tight bandage gives to a wounded man. He generally +came at tea-time when Fay was at her best, and he brought her news of +her little world at Dariawarpur. To her sister he seemed the one link +with reality. Without him the heavy dream would have gone on unbroken. +Fay was always most eager he should take Jan out, and, though at first +Jan had been unwilling, she gradually came to look upon such times as a +blessed break in the monotonous restraint of her day. With him she was +natural, said what she felt, expressed her fears, and never failed to +return comforted and more hopeful. + +One night he took her to the Yacht Club, and Jan was glad she had gone, +because it gave her so much to tell Fay when she got back. + +It was a very odd experience for Jan, this tea on the crowded lawn of +the Yacht Club. She turned hot when people looked at her, and Jan had +always felt so sure of herself before, so proud to be a daughter of +brilliant, lovable Anthony Ross. + +Here, she knew that her sole claim to notice was that she had the +misfortune to be Hugo Tancred's sister-in-law. Fay, too, had once been +joyfully proud and confident--and now! + +Sometimes in the long, still days Jan wondered whether their father had +brought them up to expect too much from life, to take their happiness +too absolutely as a matter of course. Anthony Ross had fully subscribed +to the R.L.S. doctrine that happiness is a duty. When they were both +quite little girls he had loved to hear them repeat: + + If I have faltered more or less + In my great task of happiness; + If I have moved among my race + And shown no glorious morning face; + If beams from happy human eyes + Have moved me not; if morning skies, + Books, and my food and summer rain + Knocked on my sullen heart in vain; + Lord, Thy most pointed pleasure take, + And stab my spirit broad awake. + +Surely as young girls they had both shown a "glorious morning face." Who +more so than poor Fay? So gay and beautiful and kind. Why had this come +upon her, this cruel, numbing disgrace and sorrow? Jan was thoroughly +rebellious. Again she went over that time in Scotland six years before, +when, at a big shooting-box up in Sutherland, they met, among other +guests, handsome Hugo Tancred, home on leave. How he had, almost at +first sight, fallen violently in love with Fay. How he had singled her +out for every deferent and delicate attention; how she, young, +enthusiastic, happy and flattered, had fallen quite equally in love with +him. Jan recalled her father's rather comical dismay and astonishment. +His horror when they pressed an immediate marriage, so that Fay might go +out with Hugo in November. And his final giving-in to everything Fay +wanted because Fay wanted it. + +Did her father really like Hugo Tancred? she wondered. And then came the +certainty that he wouldn't ever have liked anybody much who wanted to +marry either of them; but he was far too just and too imaginative to +stand in the way where, what seemed, the happiness of his daughter was +concerned. + +"What a gamble it all is," thought Jan, and felt inclined to thank +heaven that she was neither so fascinating nor as susceptible as Fay. + +How were they to help to set Hugo Tancred on his legs again, and +reconstruct something of a future for Fay? And then there always +sounded, like a knell, Fay's tired, pathetic voice: "Don't bother to +make plans for me, Jan. For the children, yes, as much as you like. You +are so clever and constructive--but leave me out, dear, for it's just a +waste of time." + +And the dreadful part of it was that Jan felt a growing conviction that +Fay was right. And what was more, that Peter felt about it exactly as +Fay did, in spite of his matter-of-fact optimism at all such times as +Jan dared to express her dread. + +Peter learned a good deal about the Ross family in those talks with Jan. +She was very frank about her affairs, told him what money she had and +how it was invested. That the old house in Gloucestershire was hers, +left directly to her and not to her father, by a curious freak on the +part of his aunt, one Janet Ross, who disapproved of Anthony's habit of +living up to whatever he made each year by his pictures, and saving +nothing that he earned. + +"My little girls are safe, anyway," he always said. "Their mother's +money is tied up on them, though they don't get it except with my +sanction till my death. I can't touch the capital. Why, then, shouldn't +we have an occasional flutter when I have a good year, while we are all +young and can enjoy things?" + +They had a great many flutters--for Anthony's pictures sold well among a +rather eclectic set. His portraits had a certain _cachet_ that gave them +a vogue. They were delicate, distinguished, and unlike other work. The +beauties without brains never succeeded in getting Anthony Ross to paint +them, bribed they never so. But the clever beauties were well satisfied, +and the clever who were not at all beautiful felt that Anthony Ross +painted their souls, so they were satisfied, too. Besides, he made their +sittings so delightful and flirted with them with such absolute +discretion always. The year that Hugo Tancred met Fay was a particularly +good year, and Anthony had bought a touring-car, and they all went up to +Scotland in it. The girls were always well dressed and went out a good +deal. Young as she was, Jan was already an excellent manager and a +pleasant hostess. She had been taking care of her father from the time +she was twelve years old, and knew exactly how to manage him. When there +was plenty of money she let him launch out; when it was spent she made +him draw in again, and he was always quite ready to do so. Money as +money had no charms for Anthony Ross, but the pleasures it could +provide, the kindnesses it enabled him to do, the easy travel and the +gracious life were precious to him. He abhorred debt in any form and +paid his way as he went; lavishly when he had it, justly and exactly +always. + +On hearing all this Peter came to the conclusion that Hugo Tancred was +not altogether to blame if he had expected a good deal more financial +assistance from his father-in-law than he got. Anthony made no marriage +settlement on Fay. He allowed her two hundred a year for her personal +expenses and considered that Hugo Tancred should manage the running of +his own house out of his quite comfortable salary. He had, of course, no +smallest inkling of Hugo's debts or gambling propensities. And all might +have gone well if only Anthony Ross had made a new will when Fay +married; a will which tied up her mother's money and anything he might +leave her, so that she couldn't touch the capital. But nothing of the +kind was done. + +It never occurred to Jan to think of wills. + +Anthony Ross was strong and cheerful and so exceedingly young at +fifty-two that it seemed absurd that he should have grown-up daughters, +quite ludicrous that he should be a grandfather. + +Many charming ladies would greatly like to have occupied the position of +stepmother to "those nice girls," but Anthony, universal lover as he was +within strictly platonic limits, showed no desire to give his girls +anything of the sort. Jan satisfied his craving for a gracious and +well-ordered comfort in all his surroundings. Fay gratified his æsthetic +appreciation of beauty and gentleness. What would he do with a third +woman who might introduce discord into these harmonies? + +Fay came home for a short visit when Tony was six months old, as Hugo +had not got a very good station just then. She was prettier than ever, +seemed perfectly happy, and both Anthony and Jan rejoiced in her. + +After she went out the Tancreds moved to Dariawarpur, which was +considered one of the best stations in their province, and there little +Fay was born, and it was arranged that Jan and her father were to visit +India and Fay during the next cold weather. + +But early in the following November Anthony Ross got influenza, +recovered, went out too soon, got a fresh chill, and in two days +developed double pneumonia. + +His heart gave out, and before his many friends had realised he was at +all seriously ill, he died. + +Jan, stunned, bewildered, and heart-broken, yet contrived to keep her +head. She got rid of the big house in St. George's Square and most of +the servants, finally keeping only Hannah, her old Scottish nurse. She +paid everybody, rendered a full account of her stewardship to Fay and +Hugo, and then prepared to go out to India as had been arranged. Her +heart cried out for her only sister. + +To her surprise this proposition met with but scant enthusiasm. It +seemed the Tancreds' plans were uncertain; perhaps it might be better +for Fay and the children to come home in spring instead of Jan going out +to them. Hugo's letters were ambiguous and rather cold; Fay's a curious +mixture of abandonment and restraint; but the prevailing note of both +was "would she please do nothing in a hurry, but wait." + +So, of course, Jan waited. + +She waited two years, growing more anxious and puzzled as time went on. +Her lawyer protested unavailingly at Hugo's perpetual demands (of +course, backed up by Fay) for more and more capital that he might +"re-invest" it. Fay's letters grew shorter and balder and more +constrained. At last, quite suddenly, came the imperative summons to go +out at once to be with Fay when the new baby should arrive. + +And now after three weeks in Bombay Jan felt that she had never known +any other life, that she never would know any other life than this +curious dream-like existence, this silent, hopeless waiting for +something as afflicting as it was inevitable. + +There had been a great fire in the cotton green towards Colaba. It had +blazed all night, and, in spite of the efforts of the Bombay firemen and +their engines, was still blazing at six o'clock the following evening. + +Peter took Jan in his car out to see it. There was an immense crowd, so +they left the car on its outskirts and plunged into the throng on foot. +On either side of the road were tall, flimsy houses with a wooden +staircase outside; those curious tenements so characteristic of the +poorer parts of Bombay, and in such marked contrast to the "Fort," the +European quarter of the town. They were occupied chiefly by Eurasians +and very poor Europeans. That the road was a sea of mud, varied by quite +deep pools of water, seemed the only possible reason why such houses +were not also burning. + +Jan splashed bravely through the mud, interested and excited by the +people and the leaping flames so dangerously near. It was growing dusk; +the air was full of the acrid smell of burnt cotton, and the red glow +from the sky was reflected on the grave brown faces watching the fire. + +Any crowd in Bombay is always extremely varied, and Jan almost forgot +her anxieties in her enjoyment of the picturesque scene. + +"I don't think the people ought to be allowed to throng on the top of +that staircase," Peter said suddenly. "They aren't built to hold a +number at once; there'll be an accident," and he left her side for a +moment to speak to an inspector of police. + +Jan looked up at a tall house on her left, where sightseers were +collecting on the staircase to get a better view. Every window was +crowded with gazers, all but one. From one, quite at the top, a solitary +watcher looked out. + +There was a sudden shout from the crowd below, a redder glow as more +piled cotton fell into the general furnace and blazed up, and in that +moment Jan saw that the solitary watcher was Hugo Tancred, and that he +recognised her. She gave a little gasp of horror, which Peter heard as +he joined her again. "What is it?" he said. "What has frightened you?" + +Jan pointed upwards. "I've just seen Hugo," she whispered. "There, in +one of those windows--the empty one. Oh, what can he be doing in those +dreadful houses, and why is he in Bombay all this time and never a word +to Fay?" + +Jan was trembling. Peter put his hand under her arm and walked on with +her. + +"I knew he was in Bombay," he said, "but I didn't think the poor devil +was reduced to this." + +"What is to be done?" Jan exclaimed. "If he comes and worries Fay for +money now, it will kill her. She thinks he is safely out of India. What +_is_ to be done?" + +"Nothing," said Peter. "He'll go the very minute he can, and you may be +sure he'll raise the wind somehow. He's got all sorts of queer irons in +the fire. He daren't appear at the flat, or some of his creditors would +cop him for debt--it's watched day and night, I know. Just let it alone. +I'd no idea he was hiding in this region or I wouldn't have brought you. +We all want him to get clear. He might file his petition, but it would +only rake up all the old scandals, and they know pretty well there's +nothing to be got out of him." + +"He looked so dreadful, so savage and miserable," Jan said with a +half-sob. + +"Well--naturally," said Peter. "You'd feel savage and miserable if you +were in his shoes." + +"But oughtn't I to help him? Send him money, I mean." + +"Not one single anna. It'll take you all your time to get his family +home and keep them when you get there. Have you seen enough? Shall we go +back?" + +"You don't think he'll molest Fay?" + +"I'm certain of it." + +"Please take me home. I shall never feel it safe to leave Fay again for +a minute." + +"That's nonsense, you know," said Peter. + +"It's what I feel," said Jan. + +It was that night Tony's extempore prayer was echoed so earnestly by his +aunt. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE HUMAN TOUCH + + +Three days later Jan got a note from Peter telling her that Hugo Tancred +had left Bombay and was probably leaving India at once from one of the +smaller ports. + +He had not attempted to communicate in person or by letter with either +Jan or his wife. + +Early in the morning, just a week from the time Jan had seen Hugo +Tancred at the window of that tall house near the cotton green, Fay's +third child, a girl, was still-born; and Fay, herself, never recovered +consciousness all day. A most competent nurse had been in the house +nearly a week, the doctor had done all that human skill could do, but +Fay continued to sink rapidly. + +About midnight the nurse, who had been standing by the bed with her +finger on Fay's pulse, moved suddenly and gently laid down the weak hand +she had been holding. She looked warningly across at Jan, who knelt at +the other side, her eyes fixed on the pale, beautiful face that looked +so wonderfully young and peaceful. + +Suddenly Fay opened her eyes and smiled. She looked right past Jan, +exclaiming joyfully, "There you are at last, Daddie, and it's broad +daylight." + + * * * * * + +For Jan it was still the middle of the Indian night and very dark +indeed. + +The servants were all asleep; the little motherless children safely +wrapped in happy unconsciousness in their nursery with Ayah. + +The last sad offices had been done for Fay, and the nurse, tired out, +was also sleeping--on Jan's bed. + +Jan, alone of all the household, kept watch, standing in the verandah, a +ghostly figure, still in the tumbled white muslin frock she had had no +time all day to change. + +It was nearly one o'clock. Motors and carriages were beginning to come +back from Government House, where there was a reception. The motor-horns +and horses' hoofs sounded loud in the wide silent street, and the head +lights swept down the Queen's Road like fireflies in flight. + +Jan turned on the light in the verandah. Peter would perhaps look up and +see her standing there, and realise why she kept watch. Perhaps he would +stop and come up. + +She wanted Peter desperately. + +Compassed about with many relatives and innumerable friends at home, out +here Jan was singularly alone. In all that great city she knew no one +save Peter, the doctor and the nurse. Some few women, knowing all the +circumstances, had called and were ready to be kind and helpful and +friendly, as women are all over India, but Fay would admit none but +Peter--even to see Jan; and always begged her not to return the calls +"till it was all over." + +Well, it was all over now. Fay would never be timid and ashamed any +more. + +Jan had not shed a tear. The longing to cry that had assailed her so +continuously in her first week had entirely left her. She felt +clear-headed and cold and bitterly resentful. She would like to have +made Hugo Tancred go in front of her into that quiet room and forced him +to look at the girlish figure on the bed--his handiwork. She wanted to +hurt him, to make him more wretched than he was already. + +A car stopped in the street below. Jan went very quietly to the door of +the flat and listened at the top of the staircase. + +Steps were on the stairs, but they stopped at one of the flats below. + +Presently another car stopped. Again she went out and listened. The +steps came up and up and she switched on the light in the passage. + +This time it was Peter. + +He looked very tired. + +"I thought you would come," Jan said. "She died at midnight." + +Peter closed the outer door, and taking Jan by the arm led her back into +the sitting-room, where he put her in a corner of the big sofa and sat +down beside her. + +He could not speak, and Jan saw that the tears she could not shed were +in his eyes, those large dark eyes that could appear so sombre and then +again so kind. + +Jan watched him enviously. She was acutely conscious of trifling things. +She even noticed what very black eyebrows he had and how--as always, +when he was either angry or deeply moved--the veins in his forehead +stood out in a strongly-marked V. + +"It was best, I think," Jan said, and even to herself her voice sounded +like the voice of a stranger. "She would have been very unhappy if she +had lived." + +Peter started at the cool, hard tones, and looked at her. Then, simply +and naturally, like a child, he took her hand and held it; and there was +that in the human contact, in the firm, comfortable clasp, that seemed +to break something down in Jan, and all at once she felt weak and faint +and trembling. She leaned her head against the pillows piled high in the +corner where Fay had always rested. The electric light in the verandah +seemed suddenly to recede to an immense distance and became a tiny +luminous pin-head, like a far lone star. + +She heard Peter moving about in the dining-room behind and clinking +things, but she felt quite incapable of going to see what he was doing +or of trying to be hospitable--besides, it was his house, he knew where +things were, and she was so tired. + +And then he was standing over her, holding a tumbler against her +chattering teeth. + +"Drink it," he said, and, though his voice sounded far away, it was firm +and authoritative. "Quick; don't pretend you can't swallow, for you +can." + +He tipped the glass, and something wet and cold ran over her chin: +anything was better than that, and she tried to drink. As she did so +she realised she was thirsty, drank it all eagerly and gasped. + +"Have you had anything to eat all day?" the dominating voice went on; it +sounded much nearer now. + +"I can't remember," she said, feebly. "Oh, why did you give me all that +brandy, it's made me so muzzy and confused, and there's so much I ought +to see to." + +"You rest a bit first--you'll be all right presently." + +Someone lifted her by the knees and put the whole of her on the sofa. It +was very comfortable; she was not so cold now. She lay quite still and +closed her eyes. She had not had a real night's sleep since she reached +Bombay. Fay was always restless and nervous, and Jan had not had her +clothes off for forty-eight hours. The long strain was over, there was +nothing to watch and wait for now. She would do as that voice said, rest +for a few minutes. + +There was a white chuddah shawl folded on the end of the sofa. Fay had +liked it spread over her knees, for she was nearly always chilly. + +Peter opened it and laid it very lightly over Jan, who never stirred. + +Then he sat down in a comfortable chair some distance off, where she +would see him if she woke, and reviewed the situation, which was +unconventional, certainly. + +He had sent his car away when he arrived, as it was but a step to the +Yacht Club where he slept. Now, he felt he couldn't leave, for if Jan +woke suddenly she would feel confused and probably frightened. + +"I never thought so little brandy could have had such an effect," Peter +reflected half ruefully. "I suppose it's because she'd had nothing to +eat. It's about the best thing that could have happened, but I never +meant to hocus her like this." + +There she lay, a long white mound under the shawl. She had slipped her +hand under her cheek and looked pathetically young and helpless. + +"I wonder what I'd better do," thought Peter. + +Mrs. Grundy commanded him to go at once. Common humanity bade him stay. + +Peter was very human, and he stayed. + +About half-past five Jan woke. She was certainly confused, but not in +the least frightened. It was light, not brilliantly light as it would be +a little later on, but clear and opalescent, as though the sun were +shining through fold upon fold of grey-blue gauze. + +The electric light in the verandah and the one over Peter's head were +still burning and looked garish and wan, and Jan's first coherent +thought was, "How dreadfully wasteful to have had them on all +night--Peter's electric light, too"--and then she saw him. + +His body was crumpled up in the big chair; his legs were thrust out +stiffly in front of him. He looked a heartrending interpretation of +discomfort in his evening clothes, for he hadn't even loosened the +collar. He had thought of it, but felt it might be disrespectful to Jan. +Besides, there was something of the chaperon about that collar. + +Jan's tears that had refused to soften sorrow during the anguish of the +night came now, hot and springing, to blur that absurd, pathetic figure +looped sideways in the big chair. + +It was so plain why he was there. + +She sniffed helplessly (of course, she had lost her handkerchief), and +thrust her knuckles into her eyes like any schoolboy. + +When she could see again she noticed how thin was the queer, irregular +face, with dark hollows round the eyes. + +"I wonder if they feed him properly at that Yacht Club," thought Jan. +"And here are we using his house and his cook and everything." + +She swung her feet off the sofa and disentangled them from the shawl, +folded it neatly and sat looking at Peter, who opened his eyes. + +For a full minute they stared at each other in silence, then he +stretched himself and rose. + +"I say, have you slept?" he asked. + +"Till a minute ago ... Mr. Ledgard ... why did you stay? It was angelic +of you, but you must be so dreadfully tired. I feel absolutely rested +and, oh, so grateful--but so ashamed...." + +"Then you must have some tea," said Peter, inconsequently. "I'll go and +rouse up Lalkhan and the cook. We can't get any ourselves, for he locks +up the whole show every blessed night." + + * * * * * + +In the East burial follows death with the greatest possible speed. Peter +and the doctor and the nurse arranged everything. A friend of Peter's +who had little children sent for Ayah and Tony and little Fay to spend +the day, and Jan was grateful. + +Fay and her baby were laid in the English cemetery, and Jan was left to +face the children as best she could. + +They had been happy, Ayah said, with the kind lady and her children. +Tony went straight to his mother's room, the room that had been closed +to him for three whole days. + +He came back to Jan and stood in front of her, searching her face with +his grave, judging gaze. + +"What have you done with my Mummy?" he asked. "Have you carried her away +and put her somewhere like you do Fay when she's naughty? You're strong +enough." + +"Oh, Tony!" Jan whispered piteously. "I would have kept her if I could, +but I wasn't strong enough for that." + +"Who has taken her, then?" Tony persisted. "Where is she? I've been +everywhere, and she isn't in the bungalow." + +"God has taken her, Tony." + +"What for?" + +"I think," Jan said, timidly, "it was because she was very tired and ill +and unhappy----" + +"But is she happier now and better?" + +"I hope so, I believe she is ... quite happy and well." + +"You're sure?" And Tony's eyes searched Jan's face. "You're sure _you_ +haven't put her somewhere?" + +"Tony, I want Mummy every bit as much as you do. Be a little good to +me, sonny, for I'm dreadfully sad." + +Jan held out her hand and Tony took it doubtfully. She drew him nearer. + +"Try to be good to me, Tony, and love me a little ... it's all so hard." + +"I'll be good," he said, gravely, "because I promised Mummy ... but I +can't love you yet--because--" here Tony sighed deeply, "I don't seem to +feel like it." + +"Never mind," said Jan, lifting him on to her knee. "Never mind. I'll +love you an extra lot to make up." + +"And Fay?" he asked. + +"And Fay--we must both love Fay more than ever now." + +"I do love Fay," Tony said, "because I'm used to her. She's been here a +long time...." + +Suddenly his mouth went down at the corners and he leant against Jan's +shoulder to hide his face. "I do want Mummy so," he whispered, as the +slow, difficult tears welled over and fell. "I like so much to look at +her." + + * * * * * + +It was early afternoon, the hot part of the day. The children were +asleep and Jan sat on the big sofa, finishing a warm jersey for little +Fay to wear towards the end of the voyage. Peter, by means of every +scrap of interest he possessed, had managed to secure her a three-berth +cabin in a mail boat due to leave within the next fortnight. He insisted +that she must take Ayah, who was more than eager to go, and that Ayah +could easily get a passage back almost directly with people he knew who +were coming out soon after Jan got home. He had written to them, and +they would write to meet the boat at Aden. + +There was nothing Peter did not seem able to arrange. + +In the flat below a lady was singing the "Indian Love Lyrics" from the +"Garden of Khama." She had a powerful voice and sang with considerable +passion. + + Less than the dust beneath thy chariot wheel, + Less than the rust that never stained thy sword. + +Jan frowned and fidgeted. + +The song went on, finished, and then the lady sang it all over again. +Jan turned on the electric fan, for it was extremely hot, and the strong +contralto voice made her feel even hotter. The whirr of the fan in no +way drowned the voice, which now went on to proclaim with much _brio_ +that the temple bells were ringing and the month of marriages was +drawing near. And then, very slowly and solemnly, but quite as loudly as +before, came "When I am dying, lean over me tenderly----" + +Jan got up and stamped. Then she went swiftly for her topee and gloves +and parasol, and fled from the bungalow. + +Lalkhan rushed after her to ask if she wanted a "tikka-gharri." He +strongly disapproved of her walking in the streets alone, but Jan shook +her head. The lift-man was equally eager to procure one, but again Jan +defeated his desire and walked out into the hot street. Somehow she +couldn't bear "The Garden of Khama" just then. It was Hugo Tancred's +favourite verse, and was among the few books Fay appeared to possess, +Fay who was lying in the English cemetery, and so glad to be there ... +at twenty-five. + +What was the good of life and love, if that was all it led to? In spite +of the heat Jan walked feverishly and fast, down the shady side of the +Mayo Road into Esplanade Road, where the big shops were, and, just then, +no shade at all. + +The hot dust seemed to rise straight out of the pavement and strike her +in the face, and all the air was full of the fat yellow smell that +prevails in India when its own inhabitants have taken their mid-day +meal. + +Each bare-legged gharri-man slumbered on the little box of his carriage, +hanging on in that amazingly precarious fashion in which natives of the +East seem able to sleep anywhere. + +On Jan went, anywhere, anywhere away from the garden of Khama and that +travesty of love, as she conceived it. She remembered the day when she +thought them such charming songs and thrilled in sympathy with Fay when +Hugo sang them. Oh, why did that woman sing them to-day? Would she ever +get the sound out of her ears? + +She had reached Churchgate Street, which was deserted and deep in shade. +She turned down and presently came to the Cathedral standing in its trim +garden bright with English flowers. The main door was open and Jan went +in. + +Here the haunting love-lyrics were hushed. It was so still, not even a +sweeper to break the blessed peace. + +Restlessly, Jan walked round the outer aisles, reading the inscriptions +on marble tablets and brasses, many of them dating back to the later +eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. Men died young out in India +in those days; hardly any seemed to live beyond forty-two, many died in +the twenties. On nearly all the tablets the words "zeal" or "zealous" +regularly appeared. With regard to their performance of their duties +these dead and gone men who had helped to make the India of to-day had +evidently had a very definite notion as to their own purpose in life. +The remarks were guarded and remarkably free from exaggerated tributes +to the virtues they celebrated. One Major-General Bellasis was described +as "that very respectable Officer--who departed this life while he was +in the meritorious discharge of his duty presiding at the Military +Board." Others died "from exposure to the sun"; nearly all seemed to +have displayed "unremitting" or "characteristic zeal" in the discharge +of their duties. + +Jan sat down, and gradually it seemed as though the spirits and souls of +those departed men, those ordinary everyday men--whose descendants might +probably be met any day in the Yacht Club now--seemed to surround her in +a great company, all pointing in one direction and with one voice +declaring, "This is the WAY." + +Jan fell on her knees and prayed that her stumbling feet might be +guided upon it, that she should in no wise turn aside, however steep and +stony it might prove. + +And as she knelt there came upon her the conviction that here was the +true meaning of life as lived upon the earth; just this, that each +should do his job. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE END OF THE DREAM + + +She walked back rather slowly. It was a little cooler, but dusty, and +the hot pavements made her feet ache. She was just wondering whether she +would take a gharri when a motor stopped at the curb and Peter got out. + +"What are you doing?" he asked crossly. "Why are you walking in all this +heat? You can't play these games in India. Get in." + +He held the door open for her. + +"Good afternoon, Mr. Ledgard," Jan said, sweetly. "Is it worth while for +such a little way?" + +"Get in," Peter said again, and Jan meekly got in. + +"I was just coming to see you, and I could have taken you anywhere you +wanted to go, if only you'd waited. Why didn't you take a gharri?" + +"Since you must know," Jan said, smiling at the angry Peter, "I went out +because I wanted to go out. And I walked because I wanted to walk." + +"You can't do things just because you want to do 'em in this infernal +country--you must consider whether it's a suitable time." + +Jan made no answer, and silence reigned till they reached the bungalow. + +Peter followed her in. + +"Where did you go?" he asked. "And why?" + +"I went to the Cathedral, and my reason was that I simply couldn't stay +in the bungalow because the lady below was singing 'Less than the +dust.'" + +"I know," Peter said grimly. "Just the sort of thing she would sing." + +"She sang very well," Jan owned honestly, "but when Fay was first +engaged she and Hugo used to sing those songs to each other--it seemed +all day long--and this afternoon I couldn't bear it. It seemed such a +sham somehow--so false and unreal, if it only led--to this." + +"It's real enough while it lasts, you know," Peter remarked in the +detached, elderly tone he sometimes adopted. "That sort of thing's all +right for an episode, but it's a bit too thin for marriage." + +"But surely episodes often end in marriage?" + +"Not that sort, and if they do it's generally pretty disastrous. A woman +who felt she was less than the dust and rust and weeds and all that rot +wouldn't be much good to a man who had to do his job, for she wouldn't +do hers, you know." + +"Then you, too, think that's the main thing--to do your job?" + +"It seems to me it's the only thing that justifies one's existence. +Anyway, to try to do it decently." + +"And you don't think one ought to expect to be happy and have things go +smoothly?" + +"Well, they won't always, you know, whether you expect it or not; but +the job remains, so it's just as well to make up your mind to it." + +"I suppose," Jan said thoughtfully, "that's a religion." + +"It pans out as well as most," said Peter. + +The days that had gone so slowly went quickly enough now. Jan had much +to arrange and no word came from Hugo. She succeeded in getting the +monthly bills from the cook, and paid them, and very timidly she asked +Peter if she might pay the wages for the time his servants had waited +upon them; but Peter was so huffy and cross she never dared to mention +it again. + +The night before they all sailed Peter dined with her, and, after +dinner, took her for one last drive over Malabar Hill. The moon was +full, and when they reached Ridge Road he stopped the car and they got +out and stood on the cliff, looking over the city just as they had done +on her first evening in Bombay. + +Some scented tree was in bloom and the air was full of its soft +fragrance. + +For some minutes they stood in silence, then Jan broke it by asking: +"Mr. Ledgard, could Hugo take the children from me?" + +"He could, of course, legally--but I don't for a minute imagine he will, +for he couldn't keep them. What about his people? Will they want to +interfere?" + +"I don't think so; from the little he told us they are not very well +off. They live in Guernsey. His father was something in salt, I think, +out here. We've none of us seen them. They didn't come to Fay's +wedding. I gather they are very strict in their views--both his father +and mother--and there are two sisters. But Fay said Hugo hardly ever +wrote--or heard from them." + +"There's just one thing you must face, Miss Ross," and Peter felt a +brute as he looked at Jan pale and startled in the bright moonlight. +"Hugo Tancred might marry again." + +"Oh, surely no one would marry him after all this!" + +"Whoever did would probably know nothing of 'all this.' Remember Hugo +Tancred has a way with women; he's a fascinating chap when he likes, +he's good-looking and plausible, and always has an excellent reason for +all his misfortunes. If he does marry again he'll marry money, and +_then_ he might demand the children." + +"Perhaps she wouldn't want them." + +"We'll hope not." + +"And I can do nothing--nothing to make them safe?" + +"I fear--nothing--only your best for them." + +"I'll do that," said Jan. + +They stood shoulder to shoulder in the scented stillness of the night. +The shadows were black and sharp in the bright moonlight and the +tom-toms throbbed in the city below. + +"I wonder," Jan said presently, "if I shall ever be able to do anything +for you, Mr. Ledgard. You have done everything for us out here." + +"Would you really like to do something?" Peter asked eagerly. "I +wouldn't have mentioned it if you hadn't said that just now. Would you +write pretty often? You see, I've no people of my very own. Aunts and +uncles and cousins don't keep in touch with one out here. They're kind, +awfully kind when I go home on leave, but it takes a man's own folk to +remember to write every mail." + +"I'll write every mail," Jan promised eagerly, "and when you take your +next leave, remember we expect you at Wren's End." + +"I'll remember," said Peter, "and it may be sooner than you think." + +They sailed next day. Jan had spent six weeks in Bombay, and the whole +thing seemed a dream. + +The voyage back was very different from the voyage out. The boat was +crowded, and nearly all were Service people going home on leave. Jan +found them very kind and friendly, and the children, with plenty of +others to play with, were for the most part happy and good. + +The journey across France was rather horrid. Little Fay was as +obstreperous as Tony was disagreeably silent and aloof. Jan thanked +heaven when the crowded train steamed into Charing Cross. + +There, at the very door of their compartment, a girl was waiting. A girl +so small, she might have been a child except for a certain decision and +capability about everything she did. She seized Jan, kissed her +hurriedly and announced that she had got a nice little furnished flat +for them till they should go to the country, and that Hannah had tea +ready; this young person, herself, helped to carry their smaller +baggage to a taxi, packed them in, demanded Jan's keys and announced +that she would bring the luggage in another taxi. She gave the address +to the man, and a written slip to Jan, and vanished to collect their +cabin baggage. + +It was all done so briskly and efficiently that it left Ayah and the +children quite breathless, accustomed as they were to the leisurely +methods of the East. + +"Who is vat mem?" asked little Fay, as the taxi door was slammed by this +energetic young person. + +"Is she quite a mem?" suggested the accurate Tony. "Is she old enough or +big enough?" + +"Who is vat mem?" little Fay repeated. + +"That," said Jan with considerable satisfaction in her voice, "is Meg." + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +MEG + + +It was inevitable as the refrain of a _rondeau_ that when Jan said +"that's Meg" little Fay should demand "What nelse?" + +Now there was a good deal of "nelse" about Meg, and she requires some +explanation, going back several years. + +Like most Scots, Anthony Ross had been faithful to his relations whether +he felt affection for them or not; sometimes even when they had not a +thought in common with him and he rather disliked them than otherwise. + +And this was so in the case of one Amelia Ross, his first cousin, who +was head-mistress of a flourishing and well-established school for +"young ladies," in the Regent's Park district. + +She had been a head-mistress for many years, and was well over fifty +when she married a meek, small, nothingly man who had what Thackeray +calls "a little patent place." And it appeared that she added the +husband to the school in much the same spirit as she would have +increased the number of chairs in her dining-room, and with no more +appreciable result in her life. On her marriage she became Mrs. +Ross-Morton, and Mr. Morton went in and out of the front door, +breakfasted and dined at Ribston Hall, caught his bus at the North Gate +and went daily to his meek little work. It is presumed that he lived on +terms of affectionate intimacy with his wife, but no one who saw them +together could have gathered this. + +Now Anthony Ross disliked his cousin Amelia. He detested her school, +which he considered was one of the worst examples of a bad old period. +He suspected her of being hard and grasping, he knew she was dull, and +her husband bored him--not to tears, but to profanity. Yet since she was +his cousin and a hard-working, upright woman, and since they had played +together as children in Scotland and her father and mother had been kind +to him then, he could never bring himself to drop Amelia. Not for worlds +would he have allowed Jan or Fay to go to her school, but he did allow +them, or rather he humbly entreated them, to visit it occasionally when +invited to some function or other. Jan's education after her mother's +death had been the thinnest scrape sandwiched between many household +cares and much attendance upon her father's whims. Fay was allowed +classes and visiting governesses, but their father could never bring +himself to spare either of them to the regular discipline of school, and +Cousin Amelia bewailed the desultory training of Anthony's children. + +In 1905, Jan and Fay had been to a party at Ribston Hall: tea in the +garden followed by a pastoral play. Anthony was sitting in the balcony, +smoking, when the girls came back. He saw their hansom and ran +downstairs to meet them, as he always did. They were a family who went +in for affectionate greetings. + +"Daddie," cried Fay, seizing her father by the arm, "one of the seven +wonders of the world has happened. We have found an interesting person +at Ribston Hall." + +Jan took the other arm. "We can't possibly tell you all about it under +an hour, so we'd better go and sit in the balcony." And they gently +propelled him towards the staircase. + +"Not if you're going to discuss Cousin Amelia," Anthony protested. "You +have carrying voices, both of you." + +"Cousin Amelia is only incidental," Jan said, when they were all three +seated in the balcony. "The main theme is concerned with a queer little +pixie creature called Meg Morton. She's a pupil-governess, and she's +sixteen and a half--just the same age as Fay." + +"She doesn't reach up to Jan's elbow," Fay added, "and she chaperons the +girls for music and singing, and sits in the drawing-class because the +master can't be quite seventy yet." + +"She's the wee-est thing you ever saw, and they dress her in Cousin +Amelia's discarded Sunday frocks." + +"That's impossible," Anthony interrupted. "Amelia is so massive and +square; if the girl's so small she'd look like 'the Marchioness.'" + +"She does, she does!" Jan cried delightedly. "Of course the garments are +'made down,' but in the most elderly way possible. Daddie, can you +picture a Botticelli angel of sixteen, with masses of Titian-red hair, +clad in a queer plush garment once worn by Cousin Amelia, that retains +all its ancient frumpiness of line. And it's not only her appearance +that's so quaint, _she_ is quaint inside." + +"We were attracted by her hair," Fay went on "(You'll go down like a +ninepin before that hair), and we got her in a corner and hemmed her in +and declared it was her duty to attend to us because we were strangers +and shy, and in three minutes we were friends. Sixteen, Daddie! And a +governess-pupil in Cousin Amelia's school. She's a niece of the little +husband, and Cousin Amelia is preening herself like anything because she +takes her for nothing and makes her work like ten people." + +"Did the little girl say so?" + +"Of course not," Jan answered indignantly, "but Cousin Amelia did. Oh, +how thankful I am she is _your_ cousin, dear, and once-removed from us!" + +"How many generations will it take to remove her altogether?" Fay asked. +"However," she added, "if we can have the pixie out and give her a good +time I shan't mind the relationship so much. We _must_ do something, +Daddie. What shall it be?" + +Anthony Ross smoked thoughtfully and said very little. Perhaps he did +not even listen with marked attention, because he was enjoying his +girls. Just to see them healthy and happy; to know that they were +naturally kind and gay; to hear them frank and eager and +loquacious--sometimes gave him a sensation of almost physical pleasure. +He was like an idler basking in the sun, conscious of nothing but just +the warmth and comfort of it. + +Whatever those girls wanted they always got. Anthony's diplomacy was +requisitioned and was, as usual, successful; for, in spite of her +disapproval, Mrs. Ross-Morton could never resist her cousin's charm. +This time the result was that one Saturday afternoon in the middle of +June little Meg Morton, bearing a battered leather portmanteau and clad +in the most-recently-converted plush abomination, appeared at the tall +house in St. George's Square to stay over the week-end. + +It was the mid-term holiday, and from the first moment to the last the +visit was one almost delirious orgy of pleasure to the little +pupil-governess. + +It was also a revelation. + +It would be hard to conceive of anything odder than the appearance of +Meg Morton at this time. She just touched five feet in height, and was +very slenderly and delicately made, with absurd, tiny hands and feet. +Yet there was a finish about the thin little body that proclaimed her +fully grown. Her eyes, with their thick, dark lashes, looked overlarge +in the pale little pointed face; strange eyes and sombre, with big, +bright pupil, and curious dark-blue iris flecked with brown. Her +features were regular, and her mouth would have been pretty had the lips +not lacked colour. As it was, all the colour about Meg seemed +concentrated in her hair; red as a flame and rippled as a river under a +fresh breeze. There was so much of it, too, the little head seemed bowed +in apology beneath its weight. + +Yet for the time being Meg forgot to be apologetic about her hair, for +Anthony and his girls frankly admired it. + +These adorable, kind, amusing people actually admired it, and said so. +Hitherto Meg's experience had been that it was a thing to be slurred +over, like a deformity. If mentioned, it was to be deprecated. In the +strictly Evangelical circles where hitherto her lot had been cast, they +even tried vainly to explain it away. + +She had, of course, heard of artists, but she never expected to meet +any. That sort of thing lay outside the lives of those who had to make +their living as quickly as possible in beaten tracks; tracks so +well-beaten, in fact, that all the flowers had been trodden underfoot +and exterminated. + +Meg, at sixteen, had received so little from life that her expectations +were of the humblest. And as she stood before the glass in a pretty +bedroom, fastening her one evening dress (of shiny black silk that +crackled, made with the narrow V in front affected by Mrs. Ross-Morton), +preparatory to going to the play for the first time in her life, she +could have exclaimed, like the little old woman of the story, "This be +never I!" + +Anthony Ross was wholly surprising to Meg. + +This handsome, merry gentleman with thick, brown hair as crinkly as her +own; who was domineered over and palpably adored by these two, to her, +equally amazing girls--seemed so very, very young to be anybody's +father. + +He frankly owned to enjoying things. + +Now, according to Meg's experience, grown-up people--elderly +people--seldom enjoyed anything; above all, never alluded to their +enjoyment. + +Life was a thing to be endured with fortitude, its sorrows borne with +Christian resignation; its joys, if there were any joys, discreetly +slurred over. Joys were insidious, dangerous things that might lead to +the leaving undone of obvious duties. To seek joy and insure its being +shared by others, bravely and honestly believing it to be an excellent +thing, was to Meg an entirely unknown frame of mind. + +After the play, in Meg's room the three girls were brushing their hair +together; to be accurate, Jan was brushing Fay's and Meg admiring the +process. + +"Have you any sisters?" Jan asked. She was always interested in people's +relations. + +"No," said Meg. "There are, mercifully, only three of us, my two +brothers and me. If there had been any more I don't know what my poor +little Papa would have done." + +"Why do you call him your 'poor little papa'?" Fay asked curiously. + +"Because he is poor--dreadfully--and little, and very melancholy. He +suffers so from depression." + +"Why?" asked the downright Jan. + +"Partly because he has indigestion, _constant_ indigestion, and then +there's us, and boys are so expensive, they will grow so. It upsets him +dreadfully." + +"But they can't help growing," Fay objected. + +"It wouldn't matter so much if they didn't both do it at once. But you +see, there's only a year between them, and they're just about the same +size. If only one had been smaller, he could have worn the outgrown +things. As it is, it's always new clothes for both of them. Papa's are +no sort of use, and even the cheapest suits cost a lot, and boots are +perfectly awful." + +Meg looked so serious that Fay and Jan, who were like the lilies of the +field, and expected new and pretty frocks at reasonable intervals as a +matter of course, looked serious too; for the first time confronted by a +problem whose possibility they had never even considered before. + +"He must be pleased with you," Jan said, encouragingly. "_You're_ not +too big." + +"Yes, but then I'm not a boy. Papa's clothes would have made down for me +beautifully if I'd been a boy; as it is, they're no use." Meg sighed, +then added more cheerfully. "But I cost less in other ways, and several +relations send old clothes to me. They are never too small." + +"Do you like the relations' clothes?" Fay asked. + +"Of course not," said Meg, simply. "They are generally hideous; but, +after all, they cover me and save expense." + +The spoiled daughters of Anthony Ross gazed at Meg with horror-stricken +eyes. To them this seemed a most tragic state of things. + +"Do they all," Fay asked timidly, "wear such ... rich materials--like +Cousin Amelia?" + +"They're fond of plush, as a rule, but there's velveteen as well, and +sometimes a cloth dress. One was mustard-coloured, and embittered my +life for a whole year." + +Jan suddenly ceased to brush Fay's hair and went and sat on the bed +beside Meg and put her arm round her. Fay's pretty face, framed in +fluffy masses of fair hair, was solemn in excess of sympathy. + +"I shouldn't care a bit if only the boys were through Sandhurst and +safely into the Indian Army--but I do hate them having to go without +nearly everything. Trevor's a King's Cadet, but they wouldn't give us +two cadetships ... Still," she added, more cheerfully, "it's cheaper +than anything else for a soldier's son." + +"Is your father a soldier?" asked Jan. + +"Oh, yes, a major in the Westshires; but he had to leave the Army +because of his health, and his pension is very small, and mother had so +little money. I sometimes think it killed her trying to do everything on +nothing." + +"Were you quite small when she died?" Fay asked in a sympathetic +whisper. + +"Oh, no; I was nearly twelve, and quite as big as I am now. Then I kept +house while the boys were at Bedford, but when they went to Sandhurst +poor little Papa thought I'd better get some education, too, and Uncle +John's wife offered to take me for nothing, so here I am. HERE, it's too +wonderful. Who could have dreamed that Ribston Hall would lead to this?" +And Meg snuggled down in Jan's kind embrace, her red hair spread around +her like a veil. + +"Are some of the richly-dressed relations nice?" Jan asked hopefully. + +"I don't know if you'd think them nice--you seem to expect such a lot +from people--but they're quite kind--only it's a different sort of +kindness from yours here. They don't laugh and expect you to enjoy +yourself, like _your_ father. My brothers say they are dull ... they +call them--I'm afraid it's very ungrateful--the weariful rich. But I +expect we're weariful to them too. I suppose poor relations _are_ boring +if you're well-off yourself. But we get pretty tired, too, when they +talk us over." + +"But do you mean to say they talk you over _to_ you?" + +"Always," Meg said firmly. "How badly we manage, how improvident we are, +how Papa ought to rouse himself and I ought to manage better, and how +foolish it is to let the boys go into the Army instead of banks and +things ... And yet, you know, it hasn't cost much for Trevor, and once +he's in he'll be able to manage, and Jo said he'd enlist if there was +any more talk of banks, and poor little Papa had to give in--so there it +is." + +"How much older are they than you?" Jan asked. + +"Trevor's nineteen and Jo's eighteen, and they are the greatest darlings +in the world. They always lifted the heavy saucepans for me at Bedford, +and filled the buckets and did the outsides of the windows, and carried +up the coals to Papa's sitting-room before they went to school in the +morning, and they very seldom grumbled at my cooking...." + +"But where were the servants?" Fay asked innocently. + +Meg laughed. "Oh, we couldn't have any servants. A woman came in the +morning. Papa dined at his club, and I managed for the boys and me. But, +oh dear, they do eat a lot, and joints are so dear. Sheep's heads and +things pall if you have them more than once a week. They're such a mixty +sort of meat, so gummy." + +"_I_ can cook," Jan announced, then added humbly, "at least, I've been +to classes, but I don't get much practice. Cook isn't at all fond of +having me messing in her kitchen." + +"It isn't the cooking that's so difficult," said Meg; "it's getting +things to cook. It's all very well for the books to say 'Take' this and +that. My experience is that you can never 'take' anything. You have to +buy every single ingredient, and there's never anything like enough. We +tried being fruitarians and living on dates and figs and nuts all +squashed together, but it didn't seem to come a bit cheaper, for the +boys were hungry again directly and said it was hog-wash." + +"Was your papa a fruitarian too?" Fay asked. + +"Oh, no, he can't play those tricks; he has to be most careful. He never +had his meals with us. Our meals would have been too rough for him. I +got him breakfast and afternoon tea. He generally went out for the +others." + +Jan and Fay looked thoughtful. + + * * * * * + +Amelia Ross-Morton was a fair judge of character. When she consented to +take her husband's niece as a governess-pupil she had been dubious as to +the result. She very soon discovered, however, that the small red-haired +girl was absolutely trustworthy, that she had a power of keeping order +quite disproportionate to her size, that she got through a perfectly +amazing amount of work, and did whatever she was asked as a matter of +course. Thus she became a valuable factor in the school, receiving +nothing in return save her food and such clothes as Mrs. Ross-Morton +considered too shabby for her own wear. + +At the end of the first year Meg ceased to receive any lessons. Her day +was fully occupied in teaching the younger and chaperoning the elder +girls. Only one stipulation did she make at the beginning of each +term--that she should be allowed to accept, on all reasonable occasions, +the invitations of Anthony Ross and his daughters, and she made this +condition with so much firmness that Anthony's cousin knew better than +to be unreasonably domineering, as was her usual habit. Moreover, though +it was against her principles to do anything to further the enjoyment +of persons in a subordinate position, she was, in a way, flattered that +Anthony and his girls should thus single out her "niece by marriage" and +appear to enjoy her society. + +Thus it came about that Meg went a good deal to St. George's Square and +nearly always spent part of each holiday with Fay and Jan wherever they +happened to be. + +The queer clothes were kept for wear at Ribston Hall, and by +degrees--although she never had any money--she became possessed of +garments more suitable to her age and colouring. + +Again and again Anthony painted her. She sat for him with untiring +patience and devotion. She was always entirely at her ease with him, and +prattled away quite simply of the life that seemed to him so +inexpressibly hard and dreary. + +Only once had he interfered on her behalf at Ribston Hall, and then +sorely against Meg's will. She was sitting for him one day, with her +veil of flaming hair spread round her, when she said, suddenly, "I +wonder why it is incorrect to send invitations by post to people living +in the same town?" + +"But it isn't," Anthony objected. "Everybody does it." + +"Not in schools," Meg said firmly. "Mrs. Ross-Morton will never send +invitations to people living in London through the post--she says it +isn't polite. They must go by hand." + +"I never heard such nonsense," Anthony exclaimed crossly. "If she +doesn't send 'em by post, how _does_ she send them?" + +"I take them generally, in the evening, after school, and deliver them +at all the houses. Some are fairly near, of course--a lot of her friends +live in Regent's Park--but sometimes I have to go quite a long way by +bus. I don't mind that in summer, when it's light, but in winter it's +horrid going about the lonely roads ... People speak to one...." + +Anthony Ross stepped from behind his easel. + +"And what do you do?" he asked. + +"I run," Meg said simply, "and I can generally run much faster than they +do ... but it's a little bit frightening." + +"It's infernal," Anthony said furiously. "I shall speak to Amelia at +once. You are never to do it again." + +In vain did Meg plead, almost with tears, that he would do nothing of +the kind. He was roused and firm. + +He did "speak to Amelia." He astonished that good lady as much as he +annoyed her. Nevertheless Mrs. Ross-Morton used the penny post for her +invitations as long as Meg remained at Ribston Hall. + +At the end of two years Major Morton, who had removed from Bedford to +Cheltenham, wrote a long, querulous letter to his sister-in-law to the +effect that if--like the majority of girls nowadays--his daughter chose +to spend her life far from his sheltering care, it was time she earned +something. + +Mrs. Ross-Morton replied that only now was Meg beginning to repay all +the expense incurred on her behalf in the way of board, clothing and +tuition; and it was most unreasonable to expect any salary for quite +another year. + +Major Morton decided to remove Meg from Ribston Hall. + +Many acrimonious letters passed between her aunt and her father before +this was finally accomplished, and Meg left "under a cloud." + +To her great astonishment, her meek little uncle appeared at Paddington +to see her off. Just as the train was starting he thrust an envelope +into her hand. + +"It hasn't been fair," he almost shouted--for the train was already +beginning to move. "You worked hard, you deserved some pay ... a little +present ... but please don't mention it to your aunt ... She is so +decided in her views...." + +When Meg opened the envelope she found three ten-pound notes. She had +never seen so much money before, and burst into tears; but it was not +because of the magnitude of the gift. She felt she had never properly +appreciated her poor little uncle, and her conscience smote her. + +This was at Christmas. + +The weariful rich sat in conclave over Meg, and it was decided that she +should in March go as companion and secretary to a certain Mrs. Trent +slightly known to one of them. + +Mrs. Trent was kindly, careless, and quite generous as regards money. +She had grown-up daughters, and they lived in one of the Home Counties +where there are many country-houses and plenty of sport. Meg proved to +be exceedingly useful, did whatever she was asked to do, and a great +many things no one had ever done before. She shared in the fun, and for +the first time since her mother died was not overworked. + +Her employer was as keen on every form of pleasure as her own daughters. +She exercised the very smallest supervision over them and none at all +over the "quite useful" little companion. + +Many men came to the easy-going, lavish house, and Meg, with pretty +frocks, abundant leisure and deliriously prim Ribston-Hallish manners, +came in for her full share of admiration. + +It happened that at the end of July Anthony Ross came up to London in +the afternoon to attend and speak at a dinner in aid of some artists' +charity. He and Jan were staying with friends at Teddington; Fay, an +aunt and the servants were already at Wren's End--all but Hannah, the +severe Scottish housemaid, who remained in charge. She was grim and +gaunt and plain, with a thick, black moustache, and Anthony liked her +less than he could have wished. But she had been Jan's nurse, and was +faithful and trustworthy beyond words. He would never let Jan go to the +country ahead of him, for without her he always left behind everything +most vital to his happiness, so she was to join him next day and see +that his painting-tackle was all packed. + +The house in St. George's Square was nominally shut up and shrouded in +dust-sheets, but Hannah had "opened up" the dining-room on Anthony's +behalf, and there he sat and slumbered till she should choose to bring +him some tea. + +He was awakened by an opening door and Hannah's voice announcing, not +tea, but: + +"Miss Morton to see you, sir." + +There seemed a thousand "r's" in both the Morton and the sir, and +Anthony, who felt that there was something ominous and arresting in +Hannah's voice, was wide-awake before she could shut the door again. + +Sure enough it was Meg, clad in a long grey dust-cloak and motor bonnet, +the grey veil flung back from a very pale face. + +Meg, looking a wispy little shadow of woe. + +Anthony came forward with outstretched hands. + +"Meg, my child, what good wind has blown you here this afternoon? I +thought you were having ever such a gay time down in the country." + +But Meg made no effort to grasp the greeting hands. On the contrary, she +moved so that the whole width of the dining-room table was between them. + +"Wait," she said, "you mustn't shake hands with me till I tell you what +I've done ... perhaps you won't want to then." + +And Anthony saw that she was trembling. + +"Come and sit down," he said. "Something's wrong, I can see. What is +it?" + +But she stood where she was, looking at him with large, tragic eyes; +laid down a leather despatch-case she was carrying, and seized the edge +of the table as if for support. + +"I'd rather not sit down yet," she said. "Perhaps when you've heard what +I've got to tell you, you'll never want me to sit down in your house +again ... and yet ... I did pray so you'd be here ... I knew it was most +unlikely ... but I did pray so ... And you _are_ here." + +Anthony was puzzled. Meg was not given to making scenes or going into +heroics. + +It was evident that something had happened to shake her out of her usual +almost cynical calm. + +"You'd be much better to sit down," he said, soothingly. "You see, if +you stand, so must I, and it's such an uncomfortable way of talking." + +She pulled out a chair and sat down at the table, took off her gloves, +and two absurd small thumbs appeared above its edge, the knuckles white +and tense with the strength of her grip. + +Anthony seated himself in a deep chair beside the fireplace. He was in +shadow. Meg faced the light, and he was shocked at the appearance of the +little smitten face. + +"Now tell me," he said gently, "just as little or as much as you like." + +"This morning," she said hoarsely, "I ran away with a man ... in a +motor-car." + +Anthony was certainly startled, but all he said was, "That being the +case, why are you here, my dear, and what have you done with him?" + +"He was married...." + +"Have you only just found that out?" + +"No, I knew it all along. His wife is hard and disagreeable and older +than he is ... and he's thirty-five ... and they can't live together, +and she won't divorce him and he can't divorce her ... and I loved him +so much and thought how beautiful it would be to give up everything and +make it up to him." + +"Yes?" said Anthony, for Meg paused as though unable to go on. + +"And it seemed very wonderful and noble to do this, and I forgot my poor +little Papa and those boys in India, and you and Jan and Fay and ... I +was very mad and very happy ... till this morning, when we actually went +off in his car." + +"But where," Anthony asked in a voice studiously even and quiet, "_are_ +he and his car?" + +"I don't know," Meg said hopelessly, "unless they're still at the place +where we had lunch ... and I don't suppose he'd stay there all this +time...." + +Anthony felt a great desire to laugh, but Meg looked so woebegone and +desperately serious that he restrained the impulse and said very kindly: +"I don't yet understand how, having embarked upon such an enterprise, +you happen to be here ... alone. Did you quarrel at lunch, or what?" + +"We didn't _have_ lunch," Meg exclaimed with a sob. "At least, I didn't +... it was the lunch that did it." + +"Did what?" + +"Made me realise what I had done, and go away." + +"Meg dear," said Anthony, striving desperately to keep his voice steady, +"was it a very bad lunch?" + +"I don't know," she answered with the utmost seriousness. "We hadn't +begun; we were just going to, when I noticed his hands, and his nails +were dirty, and they looked horrid, and suddenly it came over me that if +I stayed ... those hands...." + +She let go of the table, put her elbows upon it and hid her face in her +hands. + +Anthony made no sound, and presently, still with hidden face, she went +on again: + +"And in that minute I saw what I was doing, and that I could never be +the same again, and I remembered my poor little dyspeptic Papa, and my +dear, dear brothers so far away in India ... and you and Jan and +Fay--_all_ the special people I pray for every single night and +morning--and I felt that if I didn't get away that minute I should +die...." + +"And how did you get away?" + +"It was quite simple. There was something wrong with the car (that's how +he got his hands so dirty), and he'd sent for a mechanic, and just as we +were sitting down to lunch, the waiter said the motor-man had come ... +and he went out to the garage to speak to him...." + +"Yes?" Anthony remarked, for again Meg paused. + +"So I just walked out of the front door. No one saw me, and the station +was across the road, and I went right in and asked when there was a +train to London, and there _was_ one going in five minutes; so I took a +ticket and came straight here, for I knew somehow, even if you were all +away, Hannah would let me stay ... just to-night. I knew she would ..." +and Meg began to sob feebly. + +And, as if in response to the mention of her name, Hannah appeared, +bearing a tray with tea upon it. Hannah was short and square; she +stumped as she walked, and she carried a tray very high and stately, as +though it were a sacrifice. As she came in Meg rose and hastily moved to +the window, standing there with her back to the room. + +"I thocht," said Hannah, as though challenging somebody to contradict +her, "that Miss Morton would be the better for an egg to her tea. She +looks just like a bit soap after a hard day's washing." + +"I had no lunch," said a muffled, apologetic voice from the window. + +"Come away, then, and take yer tea," Hannah said sharply. "Young leddies +should have more sense than go fasting so many hours." + +As it was evident that Hannah had no intention of leaving the room till +she saw Meg sitting at the table, the girl came back and sat down. + +"See that she gets her tea, sir," she said in a low, admonitory voice to +Anthony. "She's pretty far through." + +The tray was set at the end of the table. Anthony came and sat down +behind it. + +"I'll pour out," he said, "and until you've drunk one cup of tea, eaten +one piece of bread-and-butter and one egg, you're not to speak one word. +_I_ will talk." + +He tried to, disjointedly and for the most part nonsense. Meg drank her +tea, and to her own amazement ate up her egg and several pieces of +bread-and-butter with the utmost relish. + +As the meal proceeded, Anthony noted that she grew less haggard. The +tears still hung on her eyelashes, but the eyes themselves were a +thought less tragic. + +When Hannah came for the tray she gave a grunt of satisfaction at the +sight of the egg-shell and the empty plates. + +"Now," said Anthony, "we must thresh this subject out and settle what's +to be done. I suppose you left a message for the Trents. What did you +tell them?" + +"Lies," said Meg. "He said we must have a good start. His yacht was at +Southampton. And I left a note that I'd been suddenly summoned to Papa, +and would write from there. They'd all gone for a picnic, you know--and +it was arranged I was to have a headache that morning ... I've got it +now with a vengeance ... It seemed rather fun when we were planning it. +Now it all looks so mean and horrid ... Besides, lots of people saw us +in his motor ... and people always know me again because of my hair. +Everyone knew him ... the whole county made a fuss of him, and it seemed +so wonderful ... that he should care like that for me...." + +"Doubtless it did," said Anthony drily. "But we must consider what is to +be done now. If you said you were going to your father, perhaps the best +thing you can do is to go to him, and write to the Trents from there. I +hope you didn't inform _him_ of your intention?" + +"No," she faltered. "I was to write to him just before we sailed ... But +you may be perfectly sure the Trents will find out ... He will probably +go back there to look for me ... I expect he is awfully puzzled." + +"I expect he is, and I hope," Anthony added vindictively, "the fellow is +terrified out of his life as well. He ought to be horsewhipped, and I'd +like to do it. A babe like you!" + +"No," said Meg, firmly; "there you're wrong. I'm not a babe ... I knew +what I was doing; but up to to-day it seemed worth it ... I never seemed +to see till to-day how it would hurt other people. Even if he grew tired +of me--and I had faced that--there would have been some awfully happy +months ... and so long as it was only me, it didn't seem to matter. And +when you've had rather a mouldy life...." + +"It can never be a case of 'only me.' As society is constituted, other +people are always involved." + +"Yet there was Marian Evans ... he told me about her ... she did it, and +everyone came round to think it was very fine of her really. She wrote, +or something, didn't she?" + +"She did," said Anthony, "and in several other respects her case was +not at all analogous to yours. She was a middle-aged woman--you are a +child...." + +"Perhaps, but I'm not an ignorant child...." + +"Oh, Meg!" Anthony protested. + +"I daresay about books and things I am, but I mean I haven't been +wrapped in cotton-wool, and taken care of all my life, like Jan and Fay +... I know about things. Oh dear, oh dear, will you forbid Jan ever to +speak to me again?" + +"Jan!" Anthony repeated. "Jan! Why, she's the person of all others we +want. We'll do nothing till she's here. Let's get her." And he pushed +back his chair and rushed to the bell. + +Meg rushed after him: "You'll let her see me? You'll let her talk to me? +Oh, are you sure?" + +The little hands clutched his arm, her ravaged, wistful face was raised +imploringly to his. + +Anthony stooped and kissed the little face. + +"It's just people like Jan who are put into the world to straighten +things out for the rest of us. We've wasted three-quarters of an hour +already. Now we'll get her." + +"Is she on the telephone?" asked the practical Meg. "Not far off?" + + * * * * * + +Jan was quite used to being summoned to her father in a tremendous +hurry. She was back in St. George's Square before he started for the +dinner. Meg was lying down in one of the dismantled bedrooms, and when +Jan arrived she went straight to her father in his dressing-room. + +She found him on his knees, pursuing a refractory collar-stud under the +wash-stand. + +"It's well you've come," he said as he got up. "I can't fasten my collar +or my tie. I've had a devil of a time. My fingers are all thumbs and I'm +most detestably sticky." + +He told Jan about Meg. She fastened his collar and arranged his tie in +the neatest of bows. Then she kissed him on both cheeks and told him not +to worry. + +"How can one refrain from worrying when the works of the devil and the +selfishness of man are made manifest as they have been to-day? But for +the infinite mercy of God, where would that poor silly child have been?" + +"It's just because the infinite mercy of God is so much stronger than +the works of the devil or the selfishness of man, that you needn't +worry," said Jan. + +Anthony put his hands on Jan's shoulders and held her away from him. + +"Do you know," he said, "I shall always like Hannah better after this. +In spite of her moustache and her grimness, that child was sure Hannah +would take her in, whether any of us were here or not. Now, how did she +know?" + +"Because," said Jan, "things are revealed to babes like Meg that are +hidden from men of the world like you. Hannah is all right--you don't +appreciate Hannah, and you are rather jealous of her moustache." + +Anthony leant forward and kissed his tall young daughter: "You are a +great comfort, Jan," he said. "How do you do it?" + +Jan nodded at him. "It will all straighten out--don't you worry," she +said. + +All the same, there was plenty of worry for everybody. The man, after +his fashion, was very much in love with Meg. He was horribly alarmed by +her sudden and mysterious disappearance. No one had seen her go, no one +had noticed her. + +He got into a panic, and motored back to the Trents', arriving there +just before dinner. Mrs. Trent, tired and cross after a wet picnic, had, +of course, read Meg's note, thought it very casual of the girl and was +justly incensed. + +On finding they knew no more of Meg's movements than he did himself, the +man--one Walter Brooke--lost his head and confessed the truth to Mrs. +Trent, who was much shocked and not a little frightened. + +Later in the evening she received a telegram from Jan announcing Meg's +whereabouts. + +Jan had insisted on this, lest the Trents should suspect anything and +wire to Major Morton. + +Mrs. Trent, quite naturally, refused to have anything further to do with +Meg. She talked of serpents, and was very much upset. She wrote a +dignified letter to Major Morton, explaining her reasons for Meg's +dismissal. She also wrote to their relative among the weariful rich, +through whom she had heard of Meg. + +Meg was more under a cloud than when she left Ribston Hall. + +But for Jan and Anthony she might have gone under altogether; but they +took her down to Wren's End and kept guard over her. Anthony Ross dealt +faithfully with the man, who went yachting at once. + +Meg recovered her poise, searched the advertisements of the scholastic +papers industriously, and secured a post in a school for little boys, as +Anthony forced his cousin Amelia to give her a testimonial. + +Here she worked hard and was a great success, for she could keep order, +and that quality, where small boys are concerned, is much more valuable +than learning. She stayed there for some years, and then her frail +little ill-nourished body gave out, and she was gravely ill. + +When she recovered, she went as English governess to a rich German +family in Bremen. The arrangement was only for one year, and at its +termination she was free to offer to meet Jan and her charges. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +PLANS + + +"Now, chicks, this is London, the friendly town," Jan announced, as the +taxi drove away from Charing Cross station. + +"Flendly little London, dirty little London," her niece rejoined, as she +bounced up and down on Jan's knee. She had slept during the very good +crossing and was full of conversation and ready to be pleased with all +she saw. + +Tony was very quiet. He had suffered far more in the swift journey +across France than during the whole of the voyage, and it was difficult +to decide whether he or Ayah were the more extraordinary colour. +Greenish-white and miserable he sat beside his aunt, silent and +observing. + +"Here's dear old Piccadilly," Jan exclaimed, as the taxi turned out of +St. James's Street. "Doesn't it look jolly in the sunshine?" + +Tony turned even greener than before, and gasped: + +"This! Piccadilly!" + +This not very wide street with shops and great houses towering above +them, the endless streams of traffic in the road and on the crowded +pavements! + +"Did Mrs. Bond live in one of those houses?" he wondered, "and if so, +where did she keep her ducks? And where, oh, where, were the tulips and +the lilies of his dream?" + +He uttered no sound, but his mind kept exclaiming, "This! Piccadilly?" + +"See," said Jan, oblivious of Tony and intent on keeping her lively +niece upon her knee. "There's the Green Park." + +Tony breathed more freely. + +After all, there _were_ trees and grass; good grass, and more of it than +in the Resident's garden. He took heart a little and summoned up courage +to inquire: "But where are the tulips?" + +"It's too early for tulips yet," Jan answered. "By and by there will be +quantities. How did you know about them? Did dear Mummy tell you? But +they're in Hyde Park, not here." + +Tony made no answer. He was, as usual, weighing and considering and +making up his mind. + +Presently he spoke. "It's different," he said, slowly, "but I rather +like to look at it." + +Tony never said whether he thought things were pretty or ugly. All he +knew was that certain people and places, pictures and words, sometimes +filled him with an exquisite sense of pleasure, while others merely +bored or exasperated or were positively painful. + +His highest praise was "I like to look at it." When he didn't like to +look at it, he had found it wiser to express no opinion at all, except +in moments of confidential expansion, and these were rare with Tony. + +Meg had found them a nice little furnished flat on the fifth floor in +one of the blocks behind Kensington High Street, and Hannah must surely +have been waiting behind the door, so instantaneously was it opened, +when Jan and her party left the lift. + +There were tears in Hannah's eyes and her nose was red as she welcomed +"Miss Fay's motherless bairns." She was rather shocked that there was no +sign of mourning about any of them except Jan, who wore--mainly as a +concession to Hannah's prejudices--a thin black coat and skirt she had +got just before she left Bombay. + +Tony stared stonily at Hannah and decided he did not like to look at +her. She was as surprising as the newly-found Piccadilly, but she +gratified no sensuous perception whatsoever. + +Ayah might not be exactly beautiful, but she was harmonious. Her body +was well proportioned, her sari fell in gracious flowing lines, and she +moved with dignity. Without knowing why, Tony felt that there was +something pleasing to the eye in Ayah. Hannah, on the contrary, was the +reverse of graceful; stumpy and heavy-footed, she gave an impression of +abrupt terminations. Everything about her seemed too short except her +caps, which were unusually tall and white and starchy. Her afternoon +aprons, too, were stiffer and whiter and more voluminous than those of +other folk. She did not regard these things as vain adornings of her +person, rather were they the outward and visible sign of her office as +housekeeper to Miss Ross. They were a partial expression of the dignity +of that office, just as a minister's gown is the badge of his. + +By the time everyone was washed and brushed Meg returned with the +luggage and Hannah brought in tea. + +"I thought you'd like to give the bairns their tea yourself the first +day, Miss Jan. Will that Hindu body have hers in the nursery?" + +"That would be best," Jan said hastily. "And Hannah, you mustn't be +surprised if she sits on the floor. Indian servants always do." + +"_Nothing_ she can do will surprise me," Hannah announced loftily. "I've +not forgotten the body that came back with Mrs. Tancred, with a ring +through her nose and a red wafer on her forehead." + +Jan, herself, went with Ayah to the nursery, where she found that in +spite of her disparaging sniffs, Hannah had put out everything poor Ayah +could possibly want. + +The children were hungry and tea was a lengthy meal. It was not until +they had departed with Ayah for more washings that Jan found time to +say: "Why don't you take off your hat, Meg dear? I can't see you +properly in that extinguisher. Is it the latest fashion?" + +"The very latest." + +Meg looked queerly at Jan as she slowly took off her hat. + +"There!" she said. + +Her hair was cropped as short as a boy's, except for the soft, tawny +rings that framed her face. + +"Meg!" Jan cried. "Why on earth have you cut off your hair?" + +"Chill penury's the cause. I've turned it into good hard cash. It +happens to be the fashionable colour just now." + +"Did you really need to? I thought you were getting quite a good salary +with those Hoffmeyers." + +"No English governess gets a _good_ salary in Bremen, and mine was but a +modest remuneration, so I wanted more. Do you remember Lady Penelope +Pottinger?" + +"Hazily. She was pretty, wasn't she ... and very smart?" + +"She was and is ... smarter than ever now--mind, I put you on your +honour never to mention it--_she's_ got my hair." + +"Do you mean she asked you to sell it?" + +"No, my child. I offered it for sale and she was all over me with +eagerness to purchase. Hair's the defective wire in her lighting +apparatus. Her own, at the best, is skimpy and straight, though very +much my colour, and what with permanent waving and instantaneous hair +colouring it was positively dwindling away." + +"I wish you had let it dwindle." + +"No, I rather like her--so I suggested she should give her own poor +locks a rest and have an artistic _postiche_ made with mine; it made +two, one to come and one to go--to the hairdresser. She looks perfectly +charming. I'd no idea my hair was so decent till I saw it on her head." + +"I hope _I_ never shall," Jan said gloomily. "I think it was silly of +you, for it makes you look younger and more irresponsible than ever; and +what about posts?" + +"I've got a post in view where it won't matter if only I can run things +my own way." + +"Will you have to go at once? I thought, perhaps----" + +"I wish to take this post at once," Meg interposed quickly, "but it +depends on you whether I get it." + +"On me?" + +"On no one else. Look here, Jan, will you take me on as nurse to Fay's +children? A real nurse, mind, none of your fine lady arrangements; only +you must pay me forty pounds a year. I can't manage with less if I'm to +give my poor little Papa any chirps ... I suppose that's a frightful lot +for a nurse?" + +"Not for a good nurse ... But, Meg, you got eighty when you taught the +little boys, and I know they'd jump at you again in that school, hair or +no hair." + +"Listen, Jan." Meg put her elbows on the table and leaned her sharp +little chin on her two hands while she held Jan's eyes with hers. "For +nine long years, except that time with the Trents, I've been teaching, +teaching, teaching, and I'm sick of teaching. I'd rather sweep a +crossing." + +"Yet you teach so well; you know the little boys adored you." + +"I love children and they usually like me. If you take me to look after +Tony and little Fay, I'll do it thoroughly, I can promise you. I won't +teach them, mind, not a thing--I'll make them happy and well-mannered; +and, Jan, listen, do you suppose there's anybody, even the most +superior of elderly nurses, who would take the trouble for Fay's +children that I should? If you let me come you won't regret it, I +promise you." + +Meg's eyes, those curious eyes with the large pupil and blue iris +flecked with brown, were very bright, her voice was earnest, and when it +ceased it left a sense of tension in the very air. + +Jan put out her hand across the table, and Meg, releasing her sharp +little chin, clasped it with hers. + +"So that's settled," Meg announced triumphantly. + +"No." Jan's voice was husky but firm. "It's not settled. I don't think +you're strong enough; but, even so, if I could pay you the salary you +ought to have, I'd jump at you ... but, my dear, I can't at present. I +haven't the least idea what it will all cost, but the fares and things +have made such a hole in this year's money I'll need to be awfully +careful." + +"That's exactly why I want to come; you've no idea of being careful and +doing things in a small way. I've done it all my life. You'll be far +more economical with me than without me." + +"Don't tempt me," Jan besought her. "I see all that, but why should I be +comfortable at your expense? I want you more than I can say. Fay wanted +it too--she said so." + +"Did Fay actually say so? Did she?" + +"Yes, she did--not that you should be their nurse, we neither of us ever +thought of that; but she did want you to be there to help me with the +children. We used to talk about it." + +"Then I'm coming. I must. Don't you see how it is, Jan? Don't you +realise that nearly all the happiness in my life--_all_ the happiness +since the boys left--has come to me through Mr. Ross and Fay and you? +And now when there's a chance for me to do perhaps a little something in +return ... If you don't let me, it's you who are mean and grudging. I +shall be perfectly strong, if I haven't got to teach--mind, I won't do +that, not so much as A.B.C." + +"I know it's wrong," Jan sighed, "just because it would be so heavenly +to have you." + +Meg loosed the hand she held and stood up. She lifted her thin arms +above her head, as though invoking some invisible power, stretched +herself, and ran round the table to kiss Jan. + +"And do you never think, you dear, slow-witted thing, that it will be +rather lovely for _me_ to be with you? To be with somebody who is kind +without being patronising, who treats one as a human being and not a +machine, who sees the funny side of things and isn't condescending or +improving if she doesn't happen to be cross?" + +"I'm often cross," Jan said. + +"Well, and what if you are? Can't I be cross back? I'm not afraid of +your crossness. You never hit below the belt. Now, promise me you'll +give me a trial. Promise!" + +Meg's arms were round her neck, Meg's absurd cropped head was rubbing +against hers. Jan was very lonely and hungry for affection just then, +timid and anxious about the future. Even in that moment of time it +flashed upon her what a tower of strength this small, determined +creature would be, and how infinitely hard it was to turn Meg from any +course she had determined on. + +"For a little while, then," so Jan salved her conscience. "Just till we +all shake down ... and your hair begins to grow." + +Meg stood up very straight and shook her finger at Jan. "Remember, I'm +to be a real, proper nurse with authority, and a clinical thermometer +... and a uniform." + +"If you like, and it's a pretty uniform." + +Meg danced gleefully round the table. + +"It will be lovely, it is lovely. I've got it all ready; green linen +frocks, big _well_-fitting aprons, and such beautiful caps." + +"Not caps, Meg!" Jan expostulated. "Please not caps." + +"Certainly caps. How otherwise am I to cover up my head? I can't wear +hats all the time. And how could I ever inspire those children with +respect with a head like this? When I get into my uniform you'll see +what a very superior nurse I look." + +"You'll look much more like musical comedy than sober service." + +"You mistake the situation altogether," Meg said loftily. "I take my +position very seriously." + +"But you can't go about Wren's End in caps. Everybody knows you down +there." + +"They'll find out they don't know me as well as they thought, that's +all." + +"Meg, tell me, what did Hannah say when she saw your poor shorn head?" + +"Hannah, as usual, referred to my Maker, and said that had He intended +me to have short hair He would either have caused it not to grow or +afflicted me with some disease which necessitated shearing; and she +added that such havers are just flying in the face of Providence." + +"So they are." + +"All the more reason to cover them up, and I wish to impress the +children." + +"Those children will be sadly browbeaten, I can see, and as for their +poor aunt, she won't be able to call her soul her own." + +"That," Meg said, triumphantly, "is precisely why I'm so eager to come. +When you've been an underling all your life you can't imagine what a joy +it is to be top dog occasionally." + +"In that respect," Jan said firmly, "it must be turn and turn about. I +won't let you come unless you promise--swear, here and now--that when I +consider you are looking fagged--'a wispy wraith,' as Daddie used to +say--if I command you to take a day in bed, in bed you will stay till I +give you leave to get up. Unless you promise me this, the contract is +off." + +"I'll promise anything you like. The idea of being _pressed_ to remain +in bed strikes me as merely comic. You have evidently no notion how +persons in a subordinate position ought to be treated. Bed, indeed!" + +"I think you might have waited till I got back before you parted with +your hair." Jan's tone was decidedly huffy. + +"Now don't nag. That subject is closed. What about _your_ hair. Do you +know it is almost white?" + +"And what more suitable for a maiden aunt? As that is to be my _rôle_ +for the future I may as well look the part." + +"But you don't--that's what I complain of. The whiter your hair grows +the younger your face gets. You're a contradiction, a paradox, you +provoke conjecture, you're indecently noticeable. Mr. Ross would have +loved to paint you." + +Jan shook her head. "No, Daddie never wanted to paint anything about me +except my arms." + +"He'd want to paint you now," Meg insisted obstinately. "_I_ know the +sort of person he liked to paint." + +"He never would paint people unless he _did_ like them," Jan said, +smiling as at some recollection. "Do you remember how he utterly refused +to paint that rich Mr. Withells down at Amber Guiting?" + +"I remember," and Meg laughed. "He said Mr. Withells was puffy and +stippled." + + * * * * * + +Tony had been cold ever since he reached the Gulf of Lyons, and he +wondered what could be the matter with him, for he never remembered to +have felt like this before. He wondered miserably what could be the +reason why he felt so torpid and shivery, disinclined to move, and yet +so uncomfortable when he sat still. + +After his bath, on that first night in London, tucked into a little bed +with a nice warm eiderdown over him, he still felt that horrid little +trickle of ice-cold water down his spine and could not sleep. + +His cot was in Auntie Jan's room with a tall screen round it. The rooms +in the flat were small, tiny they seemed to Tony, after the lofty +spaciousness of the bungalow in Bombay, but that didn't seem to make it +any warmer, because Auntie Jan's window was wide open as it would +go--top and bottom--and chilly gusts seemed to blow round his head in +spite of the screen. Ayah and little Fay were in the nursery across the +passage, where there was a fire. There was no fire in this wind-swept +chamber of Auntie Jan's. + +Tony dozed and woke and woke and dozed, getting colder and more forlorn +and miserable with each change of position. The sheets seemed made of +ice, so slippery were they, so unkind and unyielding and unembracing. + +Presently he saw a dim light. Auntie Jan had come to bed, carrying a +candle. He heard her say good night to the little mem who had met them +at the station, and the door was shut. + +In spite of her passion for fresh air, Jan shivered herself as she +undressed. She made a somewhat hasty toilet, said her prayers, peeped +round the screen to see that Tony was all right, and hopped into bed, +where a hot-water bottle put in by the thoughtful Hannah was most +comforting. + +Presently she heard a faint, attenuated sniff. Again it came, this time +accompanied by the ghost of something like a groan. + +Jan sat up in bed and listened. Immediately all was perfectly still. + +She lay down again, and again came that sad little sniff, and +undoubtedly it was from behind the screen that it came. + +Had Tony got cold? + +Jan leapt out of bed, switched on the light and tore away the screen +from around his bed. + +Yes; his doleful little face was tear-stained. + +"Tony, Tony darling, what is the matter?" + +"I don't know," he sobbed. "I feel so funny." + +Jan put her hand on his forehead--far from being hot, the little face +was stone-cold. In a moment she had him out of bed and in her warm arms. +As she took him she felt the chill of the stiff, unyielding small body. + +"My precious boy, you're cold as charity! Why didn't you call me long +ago? Why didn't you tell Auntie Jan?" + +"I didn't ... know ... what it was," he sobbed. + +In no time Tony was put into the big bed, the bed so warm from Auntie +Jan's body, with a lovely podgy magic something at his feet that +radiated heat. Auntie Jan slammed down the window at the bottom, and +then more fairness! She struck a match, there was a curious sort of +"plop," and a little fire started in the grate, an amazing little fire +that grew redder and redder every minute. Auntie Jan put on a blue +dressing-gown over the long white garment that she wore, and bustled +about. Tony decided that he "liked to look at her" in this blue robe, +with her hair in a great rope hanging down. She was very quick; she +fetched a little saucepan and he heard talking in the passage outside, +but no one else came in, only Auntie Jan. + +Presently she gave him milk, warm and sweet, in a blue cup. He drank it +and began to feel much happier, drowsy too, and contented. Presently +there was no light save the red glow of the fairy fire, and Auntie Jan +got into bed beside him. + +She put her arm about him and drew him so that his head rested against +her warm shoulder. He did not repulse her, he did not speak, but lay +stiff and straight with his feet glued against that genial podgy +something that was so infinitely comforting. + +"You are kind," Tony said suddenly. "I believe you." + +The stiff little body relaxed and lay against hers in confiding +abandonment, and soon he was sound asleep. + +What a curious thing to say! Jan lay awake puzzling. Tragedy lay behind +it. Only five years old, and yet, to Tony, belief was a more important +thing than love. She thought of Fay, hectic and haggard, and again she +seemed to hear her say in her tired voice, trying to explain Tony: "He's +not a cuddly child; he's queer and reserved and silent, but if he once +trusts you it's for always; he'll love you then and never change." + +Jan could just see, in the red glow from the fire, the little head that +lay so confidingly against her shoulder, the wide forehead, the +peacefully closed eyes. And suddenly she realised that the elusive +resemblance to somebody that had always evaded her was a likeness to +that face she saw in the glass every time she did her hair. She kissed +him very softly, praying the while that she might never fail him; that +he might always have reason to trust her. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE STATE OF PETER + + +Meanwhile Peter was making discoveries about himself. He went back to +his flat on the evening of the day Jan and the children sailed. Swept +and garnished and exceedingly tidy, it appeared to have grown larger +during his absence and seemed rather empty. There was a sense of +unfilled spaces that caused him to feel lonely. + +That very evening he decided he must get a friend to chum with him. The +bungalow was much too big for one person. + +This had never struck him before. + +In spite of their excessive neatness there remained traces of Jan and +the children in the rooms. The flowers on the dinner-table proclaimed +that they had been arranged by another hand than Lalkhan's. He was +certain of that without Lalkhan's assurance that the Miss-Sahib had done +them herself before she sailed that very morning. + +When he went to his desk after dinner--never before or after did Peter +possess such an orderly bureau--he found a letter lying on the +blotting-pad, and on each side of the heavy brass inkstand were placed a +leaden member of a camel-corps and an India-rubber ball with a face +painted upon it, which, when squeezed, expressed every variety of +emotion. These, Lalkhan explained, were parting gifts from the young +sahib and little Fay respectively, and had been so arranged by them just +before they sailed. + +The day before Jan had told the children that all this time they had +been living in Peter's house and that she was sure Mummy would want them +to be very grateful (she was careful to talk a great deal about Mummy to +the children lest they should forget her); that he had been very kind to +them all, and she asked if there was anything of their very own they +would like to leave for Peter as a remembrance. + +Tony instantly fetched the camel-corps soldier that kept guard on a +chair by his cot every night; that Ayah had not been permitted to pack +because it must accompany him on the voyage. It was, Jan knew, his most +precious possession, and she assured him that Peter would be +particularly gratified by such a gift. + +Not to be outdone by her brother, little Fay demanded her beloved ball, +which was already packed for the voyage in Jan's suit-case. + +Peter sat at his desk staring at the absurd little toys with very kind +eyes. He understood. Then he opened Jan's letter and read it through +quite a number of times. + +"Dear Mr. Ledgard," it ran. + +"Whatever Mr. Kipling may say of the Celt, the lowland Scot finds it +very difficult to express strong feeling in words. If I had tried to +tell you, face to face, how sensible I am of your kindness and +consideration for us during the last sad weeks--I should have cried. You +would have been desperately uncomfortable and I--miserably ashamed of +myself. So I can only try to write something of my gratitude. + +"We have been your guests so long and your hospitality has been so +untiring in circumstances sad and strange enough to try the patience of +the kindest host, that I simply cannot express my sense of obligation; +an obligation in no wise burdensome because you have always contrived to +make me feel that you took pleasure in doing all you have done. + +"I wish there had been something belonging to my sister that I could +have begged you to accept as a remembrance of her; but everything she +had of the smallest value has disappeared--even her books. When I get +home I hope to give you one of my father's many portraits of her, but I +will not send it till I know whether you are coming home this summer. +Please remember, should you do so, as I sincerely hope you will, that +nowhere can there be a warmer welcome for you than at Wren's End. It +would be the greatest possible pleasure for the children and me to see +you there, and it is a good place to slack in and get strong. And there +I hope to challenge you to the round of golf we never managed during my +time in India. + +"Please try to realise, dear Mr. Ledgard, that my sense of your kindness +is deep and abiding, and, believe me, yours, in most true gratitude, + + "JANET ROSS." + +For a long time Peter sat very still, staring at the cheerful, +highly-coloured face painted on Fay's ball. Cigarette after cigarette +did he smoke as he reviewed the experience of the last six weeks. + +For the first time since he became a man he had been constantly in the +society of a woman younger than himself who appeared too busy and too +absorbed in other things to remember that she was a woman and he a man. + +Peter was ordinarily susceptible, and he was rather a favourite with +women because of his good manners; and his real good-nature made him +ready to help either in any social project that happened to be towards +or in times of domestic stress. Yet never until lately had he seen so +much of any woman not frankly middle-aged without being conscious that +he _was_ a man and she a woman, and this added, at all events, a certain +piquancy to the situation. + +Yet he had never felt this with Jan. + +Quite a number of times in the course of his thirty years he had fallen +in love in an agreeably surface sort of way without ever being deeply +stirred. Love-making was the pleasantest game in the world, but he had +not yet felt the smallest desire to marry. He was a shrewd young man, +and knew that marriage, even in the twentieth century, at all events +starts with the idea of permanence; and, like many others who show no +inclination to judge the matrimonial complications of their +acquaintance, he would greatly have disliked any sort of scandal that +involved himself or his belongings. + +He was quite as sensitive to criticism as other men in his service, and +he knew that he challenged it in lending his flat to Mrs. Tancred. But +here he felt that the necessities of the case far outweighed the +possibilities of misconception, and after Jan came he thought no more +about it. + +Yet in a young man with his somewhat cynical knowledge of the world, it +was surprising that the thought of his name being coupled with Jan's +never crossed his mind. He forgot that none of his friends knew Jan at +all, but that almost every evening they did see her with him in the +car--sometimes, it is true, accompanied by the children, but quite as +often alone--and that during her visit his spare time was so much +occupied in looking after the Tancred household that his friends saw +comparatively little of him, and Peter was, as a rule, a very sociable +person. + +Therefore it came upon him as a real shock when people began to ask him +point-blank whether he was engaged to Jan, and if so, what they were +going to do about Tancred's children. Rightly or wrongly, he discerned +in the question some veiled reflection upon Jan, some implied slur upon +her conduct. He was consequently very short and huffy with these +inquisitive ones, and when he was no longer present they would shake +their heads and declare that "poor old Peter had got it in the neck." + +If so, poor old Peter was, as yet, quite unconscious of anything of the +kind. + +Nevertheless he found himself constantly thinking about her. Everything, +even the familiar streets and roads, served to remind him of her, and +when he went to bed he nearly always dreamed about her. Absurd, +inconsequent, unsatisfactory dreams they were; for in them she was +always too busy to pay any attention to him at all; she was wholly +absorbed by what it is to be feared Peter sometimes called "those +confounded children." Though even in his dream world he was careful to +keep his opinion to himself. + +Why on earth should he always dream of Jan during the first part of the +night? + +Lalkhan could have thrown some light upon the subject. But naturally +Peter did not confide his obsession to Lalkhan. + +Just before she left Jan asked Lalkhan where the sahib's linen was kept, +and on being shown the cupboard which contained the rather untidy little +piles of sheets, pillow-cases, and towels that formed Peter's modest +store of house linen, she rearranged it and brought sundry flat, square +muslin bags filled with dried lavender. Lace-edged bags with +lavender-coloured ribbon run through insertion and tied in bows at the +two corners. These bags she placed among the sheets, much to the wonder +of Lalkhan, who, however, decided that it was kindly meant and therefore +did not interfere. + +The odour was not one that commended itself to him. It was far too faint +and elusive. He could understand a liking for attar of roses, of +jessamine, of musk, or of any of the strong scents beloved by the native +of India. Yet had she proposed to sprinkle the sheets with any of these +essences he would have felt obliged to interfere, as the sahib swore +violently and became exceedingly hot and angry did any member of his +household venture into his presence thus perfumed. Even as it was he +fully expected that his master would irritably demand the cause of the +infernal smell that pervaded his bed; so keen are the noses of the +sahibs. Whereupon Lalkhan, strong in rectitude, would relate exactly +what had happened, produce one of the Jan-incriminating muslin bags, +escape further censure, and doubtless be commanded to burn it and its +fellows in the kitchen stove. But nothing of the kind occurred, and, as +it is always easier to leave a thing where it has been placed than to +remove it, the lavender remained among the sheets in humble obscurity. + +The old garden at Wren's End abounded in great lavender bushes, and +every year since it became her property Jan made lavender sachets which +she kept in every possible place. Her own clothes always held a faint +savour of lavender, and she had packed these bags as much as a matter of +course as she packed her stockings. It seemed a shame, though, to take +them home again when she could get plenty more next summer, so she left +them in the bungalow linen cupboard. They reproduced her atmosphere; +therefore did Peter dream of Jan. + +A fortnight passed, and on their way to catch the homeward mail came +Thomas Crosbie and his wife from Dariawarpur to stay the night. Next +morning at breakfast Mrs. Crosbie, young, pretty and enthusiastic, +expatiated on the comfort of her room, finally exclaiming: "And how, +Mr. Ledgard, do you manage to have your sheets so deliciously scented +with lavender--d'you get it sent out from home every year?" + +"Lavender?" Peter repeated. "I've got no lavender. My people never sent +me any, and I've certainly never come across any in India." + +"But I'm convinced everything smelt of lavender. It made me think of +home so. If I hadn't been just going I'd have been too homesick for +words. I'm certain of it. Think! You must have got some from somewhere +and forgotten it." + +Peter shook his head. "I've never noticed it myself--you really must be +mistaken. What would I be doing with lavender?" + +"It was there all the same," Mrs. Crosbie continued. "I'm certain of it. +You must have got some from somewhere. Do find out--I'm sure I'm not +wrong. Ask your boy." + +Peter said something to Lalkhan, who explained volubly. Tom Crosbie +grinned; he understood even fluent Hindustani. His wife did not. Peter +looked a little uncomfortable. Lalkhan salaamed and left the room. + +"Well?" Mrs. Crosbie asked. + +"It seems," Peter said slowly, "there _is_ something among the sheets. +I've sent Lalkhan to get it." + +Lalkhan returned, bearing a salver, and laid on the salver was one of +Jan's lavender bags. He presented it solemnly to his master, who with +almost equal solemnity handed it to Mrs. Crosbie. + +"There!" she said. "Of course I knew I couldn't be mistaken. Now where +did you get it?" + +"It was, I suppose, put among the things when poor Mrs. Tancred had the +flat. I never noticed, of course--it's such an unobtrusive sort of +smell...." + +"Hadn't she a sister?" Mrs. Crosbie asked, curiously, holding the little +sachet against her soft cheek and looking very hard at Peter. + +"She had. It was she who took the children home, you know." + +"Older or younger than Mrs. Tancred?" + +"Older." + +"How much older?" + +"I really don't know," said the mendacious Peter. + +"Was she awfully pretty, too?" + +"Again, I really don't know. I never thought about her looks ... she had +grey hair...." + +"Oh!" Mrs. Crosbie exclaimed--a deeply disappointed "Oh." "Probably much +older, then. That explains the lavender bags." + +Silent Thomas Crosbie looked from his wife to Peter with considerable +amusement. He realised, if she didn't, that Peter was most successfully +putting her off the scent of more than lavender; but men are generally +loyal to each other in these matters, and he suddenly took his part in +the conversation and changed the subject. + +Among Peter's orders to his butler that morning was one to the effect +that nothing the Miss-Sahib had arranged in the bungalow was to be +disturbed, and the lavender bag was returned to rejoin its fellows in +the cupboard. + +It was four years since Peter had had any leave, and it appeared that +the lavender had the same effect upon him as upon Mrs. Crosbie. He felt +homesick--and applied for leave in May. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +"THE BEST-LAID SCHEMES" + + +Peter had been as good as his word, and had found a family returning to +India who were glad to take Ayah back to Bombay. And she, though sorry +to leave Jan and the children, acquiesced in all arrangements made for +her with the philosophic patience of the East. March was a cold month, +and she was often rather miserable, in spite of her pride in her shoes +and stockings and the warm clothes Jan had provided for her. + +Before she left Jan interviewed her new mistress and found her kind and +sensible, and an old campaigner who had made the voyage innumerable +times. + +It certainly occurred to Jan that Peter had been extraordinarily quick +in making this arrangement, but she concluded that he had written on the +subject before they left India. She had no idea that he had sent a long +and costly cable on the subject. His friend thought him very solicitous +for her comfort, but set it down entirely to her own merits and Peter's +discriminating good sense. + +When the day came Jan took Ayah to her new quarters in a taxi. Of course +Ayah wept, and Jan felt like weeping herself, as she would like to have +kept her on for the summer months. But she knew it wouldn't do; that +apart from the question of expense, Hannah could never overcome her +prejudices against "that heathen buddy," and that to have explained that +poor Ayah was a Roman Catholic would only have made matters worse. +Hannah was too valuable in every way to upset her with impunity, and the +chance of sending Ayah back to India in such kind custody was too good +to lose. + +Meg had deferred the adoption of the musical-comedy costume until such +time as she took over Ayah's duties. She in no way interfered, but was +helpful in so many unobtrusive ways that Jan, while she still felt +guilty in allowing her to stay at all, acknowledged she could never have +got through this time without her. + +Fortunately the day of Ayah's departure was fine, so that while Jan took +her to her destination Meg took the children to spend the afternoon at +the Zoo. To escort little Fay about London was always rather an ordeal +to anyone of a retiring disposition. She was so fearless, so interested +in her fellow-creatures, and so ready at all times and in all places to +enter into conversation with absolute strangers, preferably men, that +embarrassing situations were almost inevitable; and her speech, high and +clear and carrying--in spite of the missing "r"--rendered it rarely +possible to hope people did not understand what she said. + +They went by the Metropolitan to Baker Street and sat on one of the +small seats at right angles to the windows, and a gentleman wearing a +very shiny top-hat sat down opposite to them. + +He looked at little Fay; little Fay looked at him and, smiling her +adorable, confident smile, leant forward, remarking: "Sahib, you wear a +very high hat." + +Instantly the eyes of all the neighbouring passengers were fixed upon +the hat and its owner. His, however, were only for the very small lady +that faced him; the small lady in a close white bonnet and bewitching +curls that bobbed and fluttered in the swaying of the train. + +He took off the immaculate topper and held it out towards her. "There," +he said, "would you like to look at it?" + +Fay carefully rubbed it the wrong way with a tentative woolly-gloved +finger. "Plitty, high hat," she cooed. "Can plitty little Fay have it to +keep?" + +But the gentleman's admiration did not carry him as far as this. +Somewhat hastily he withdrew his hat, smoothed it (it had just been +ironed) and placed it on his head again. Then he became aware of the +smiling faces and concentrated gaze of his neighbours; also, that the +attractive round face that had given him so much pleasure had exchanged +its captivating smile for a pathetic melancholy that even promised +tears. He turned extremely red and escaped at the next station. +Whereupon ungrateful little Fay, who had never had the slightest +intention of crying, remarked loftily: "Tahsome man dawn." + +When at last they reached the Zoo Meg took it upon herself to +remonstrate with her younger charge. + +"You mustn't ask strangers for things, dear; you really mustn't--not in +the street or in the train." + +"What for?" asked Fay. She nearly always said, "What for" when she meant +"Why"; and it was as hard-worked a phrase as "What nelse?" + +"Because people don't do it, you know." + +"They do--I've heard 'em." + +"Well, beggars perhaps, but not nice little girls." + +"Do nasty little girls?" + +"_Only_ nasty little girls would do it, I think." + +Fay pondered this for a minute, then in a regretfully reflective voice +she said sadly: "Vat was a nasty, gleedy sahib in a tlain." + +"Not at all," Meg argued, struggling with her mirth. "How would you have +liked it if he'd asked you to give him your bonnet 'to keep'?" + +Little Fay hastily put up her hands to her head to be sure her bonnet +was in its place, then she inquired with great interest: "What's 'is +place, deah Med?" + +"Deah Med" soon found herself followed round by a small crowd of other +sight-seers who waited for and greeted little Fay's unceasing comments +with joyful appreciation. Such popular publicity was not at all to Meg's +taste, and although the afternoon was extremely cold her cheeks never +ceased to burn till she got the children safely back to the flat again. +Tony was gloomy and taciturn. Nobody took the slightest notice of him. +Weather that seemed to brace his sister to the most energetic gaiety +only made him feel torpid and miserable. He was not naughty, merely +apathetic, uninterested, and consequently uninteresting. Meg thought he +might be homesick and sad about Ayah, and was very kind and gentle, but +her advances met with no response. + +By this time Tony was sure of his aunt, but he had by no means made up +his mind about Meg. + +When they got back to Kensington Meg joyously handed over the children +to Jan while she retired to her room to array herself in her uniform. +She was to "take over" from that moment, and approached her new sphere +with high seriousness and an intense desire to be, as she put it, "a +wild success." + +For weeks she had been reading the publications of the P. N. E. U. and +the "Child-Study Society," to say nothing of Manuals upon "Infant +Hygiene," "The Montessori Method" and "The Formation of Character." +Sympathy and Insight, Duty and Discipline, Self-Control and Obedience, +Regularity and Concentration of Effort--all with the largest +capitals--were to be her watchwords. And she buttoned on her +well-fitting white linen apron (newest and most approved hospital +pattern, which she had been obliged to make herself, for she could buy +nothing small enough) in a spirit of dedication as sincere as that +imbuing any candidate for Holy Orders. Then, almost breathlessly, she +put her cap upon her flaming head and surveyed the general effect in the +long glass. + +Yes, it was all very satisfactory. Well-hung, short, green linen +frock--was it a trifle short? Yet the little feet in the low-heeled +shoes were neat as the ankles above them were slim, and one needed a +short skirt for "working about." + +Perhaps there _was_ a touch of musical comedy about her appearance, but +that was merely because she was so small and the cap, a muslin cap of a +Quakerish shape, distinctly becoming. Well, there was no reason why she +should want to look hideous. She would not be less capable because she +was pleasing to the eye. + +She seized her flannel apron from the bed where she had placed it ready +before she went out, and with one last lingering look at herself went +swiftly to her new duties. + +Tea passed peacefully enough, though Fay asked embarrassing questions, +such as "Why you wear suts a funny hat?" + +"Because I'm an ayah," Meg answered quickly. + +"Ayahs don't wear zose kind of hats." + +"English ayahs do, and I'm going to be your ayah, you know." + +Fay considered Meg for a minute. "No," she said, shaking her head. +"_No._" + +"Have another sponge-finger," Jan suggested diplomatically, handing the +dish to her niece, and the danger was averted. + +They played games with the children after tea and all went well till +bed-time. Meg had begged Jan to leave them entirely to her, and with +considerable misgiving she had seen Meg marshal the children to the +bathroom and shut the door. Tony was asked as a favour to go too this +first evening without Ayah, lest little Fay should feel lonely. It was +queer, Jan reflected when left alone in the drawing-room, how she seemed +to turn to the taciturn Tony for help where her obstreperous niece was +concerned. Over and over again Tony had intervened and successfully +prevented a storm. + +Meg turned on the bath and began to undress little Fay. She bore this +with comparative meekness, but when all her garments had been removed +she slipped from Meg's knees and, standing squarely on the floor, +announced: + +"I want my own Ayah. Engliss Ayah not wass me. Own Ayah muss come bat." + +"She can't, my darling; she's gone to other little girls, you know--we +told you many days ago." + +"She muss come bat--'_jaldi_,'" shouted Fay--"jaldi" being Hindustani +for "quickly." + +Meg sighed. "I'm afraid she can't do that. Come, my precious, and let me +bathe you; you'll get cold standing there." + +With a quick movement Meg seized the plump, round body. She was muscular +though so small, and in spite of little Fay's opposition she lifted her +into the bath. She felt Tony pull at her skirts and say something, but +was too busy to pay attention. + +Little Fay was in the bath sure enough, but to wash her was quite +another matter. You may lead a sturdy infant of three to the water in a +fixed bath, but no power on earth can wash that infant if it doesn't +choose. Fay screamed and struggled and wriggled and kicked, finally +slipping right under the water, which frightened her dreadfully; she +lost her breath for one second, only to give forth ear-splitting yells +the next. She was slippery as a trout and strong as a leaping salmon. + +Jan could bear it no longer and came in. Meg had succeeded in lifting +the terrified baby out of the bath, and she stood on the square of cork +defying the "Engliss Ayah," wet from her topmost curl to her pink toes, +but wholly unwashed. + +Tony ran to Jan and under all the din contrived to say: "It's the big +bath; she's frightened. Ayah never put her in the big bath." + +Meg had forgotten this. The little tin bath they had brought from India +for the voyage stood in a corner. + +It was filled, while Fay, wrapped in a Turkish towel, sobbed more +quietly, ejaculating between the gurgles: "Nasty hat, nasty Engliss +Ayah. I want my own deah Ayah!" + +When the bath was ready poor Meg again approached little Fay, but Fay +would have none of her. + +"No," she wailed, "Engliss Ayah in nasty hat _not_ wass me. Tony wass +me, _deah_ Tony." + +She held out her arms to her brother, who promptly received her in his. + +"You'd better let me," he said to the anxious young women. "We'll never +get her finished else." + +So it ended in Tony's being arrayed in the flannel apron which, tied +under his arm-pits, was not so greatly too long. With his sleeves +turned up he washed his small sister with thoroughness and despatch, +pointing out somewhat proudly that he "went into all the corners." + +[Illustration: He washed his small sister with thoroughness and +despatch, pointing out ... that he "went into all the corners."] + +The washing-glove was very large on Tony's little hand, and he used a +tremendous lot of soap--but Fay became all smiles and amiability during +the process. Meg and Jan had tears in their eyes as they watched the +quaint spectacle. There was something poignantly pathetic in the +clinging together of these two small wayfarers in a strange country, so +far from all they had known and shared in their short experience. + +Meg's "nasty hat" was rakishly askew upon her red curls, for Fay had +frequently grabbed at it in her rage, and the beautiful green linen gown +was sopping wet. + +"Engliss Ayah clying!" Fay remarked surprisedly. "What for?" + +"Because you wouldn't let me bathe you," said Meg dismally. Her voice +broke. She really was most upset. As it happened, she did the only thing +that would have appealed to little Fay. + +"Don't cly, deah Med," she said sweetly. "You sall dly me." + +And Meg, student of so many manuals, humbly and gratefully accepted the +task. + +It had taken exactly an hour and a quarter to get Fay ready for bed. +Indian Ayah used to do it in fifteen minutes. + +Consistently and cheerfully gracious, Fay permitted Meg to carry her to +her cot and tuck her in. + +Meg lit the night-light and switched off the light, when a melancholy +voice began to chant: + +"_My_ Ayah always dave me a choccly." + +Now there was no infant in London less deserving of a choccly at that +moment than troublesome little Fay. "Nursery Hygiene" proclaimed the +undeniable fact that sweetmeats last thing at night are most injurious. +Duty and Discipline and Self-Control should all have pointed out the +evil of any indulgence of the sort. Yet Meg, with all her theories quite +fresh and new, and with this excellent opportunity of putting them into +practice, extracted a choccly from a box on the chest of drawers; and +when the voice, "like broken music," announced for the third time, "_My_ +Ayah always dave me a choccly," "So will this Ayah," said Meg, and +popped it into the mouth whence the voice issued. + +There was a satisfied smacking and munching for a space, when the voice +took up the tale: + +"Once Tony had thlee----" + +But what it was Tony once had "thlee" of Meg was not to know that night, +for naughty little Fay fell fast asleep. + + * * * * * + +For a week Tony bathed his sister every night. Neither Jan nor Meg felt +equal to facing and going through again the terrors of that first night +without Ayah. Little Fay was quite good--she permitted Meg to undress +her and even to put her in the little bath, but once there she always +said firmly, "Tony wass me," and Tony did. + +Then he burned his hand. + +He was never openly and obstreperously disobedient like little Fay. On +the whole he preferred a quiet life free from contention. But very early +in their acquaintance Jan had discovered that what Tony determined upon +that he did, and in this he resembled her so strongly that she felt a +secret sympathy with him, even when such tenacity of purpose was most +inconvenient. + +He liked to find things out for himself, and no amount of warning or +prohibition could prevent his investigations. Thus it came about that, +carefully guarded as the children were from any contact with the fires, +Tony simply didn't believe what was told him of their dangers. + +Fires were new to him. They were so pretty, with their dancing flames, +it seemed a pity to shut them in behind those latticed guards Auntie Jan +was so fond of. Never did Tony see the fires without those tiresome +guards and he wanted to very much. + +One afternoon just before tea, while Meg was changing little Fay's +frock, he slipped across to the drawing-room where Auntie Jan was busy +writing a letter. Joy! the guard was off the fire; he could sit on the +rug and watch it undisturbed. He made no noise, but knelt down softly in +front of it and stretched out his hands to the pleasant warmth. It was +the sort of fire Tony liked to watch, red at the heart, with little +curling flames that were mirrored in the tiled hearth. + +Jan looked up from her writing and saw him there, saw also that there +was no guard, but, as little Fay had not yet come, thought Tony far too +sensible to interfere with the fire in any way. She went on with her +writing; then when she looked again something in the intentness of his +attitude caused her to say: "Be sure you don't get too near the fire, +Tony; it hurts badly to be burned." + +"Yes, Auntie Jan," Tony said meekly. + +She wrote a few lines more, looked up, and held her breath. It would +have been an easy matter even then to dash across and put on the guard; +but in a flash Jan realised that to let Tony burn himself a little at +that moment might save a very bad accident later on. There was nothing +in his clothes to catch alight. His woollen jersey fitted closely. + +Exactly as though he were going to pick a flower, with curved hand +outstretched Tony tried to capture and hold one of the dancing flames. +He drew his hand back very quickly, and Jan expected a loud outcry, but +none came. He sat back on the hearth-rug and rocked his body to and fro, +holding the burnt right hand with his left, but he did not utter a +sound. + +"It does hurt, doesn't it?" said Jan. + +He started at the quiet voice and turned a little puckered face towards +her. "Yes," he said, with a big sigh; "but I know now." + +"Come with me and I'll put something on it to make it hurt less," said +Jan, and crossed to the door. + +"Hadn't we better," he said, rather breathlessly, "put that thing on for +fear of Fay?" + +Jan carefully replaced the "thing" and took him to her room, where she +bandaged the poor little hand with carron-oil and cotton-wool. The outer +edge was scorched from little finger to wrist. She made no remark while +she did it, and Tony leaned confidingly against her the while. + +"Is that better?" she asked, when she had fastened the final safety-pin +in the bandage. There was one big tear on Tony's cheek. + +"It's nice and cool, that stuff. _Why_ does it hurt so, Auntie Jan? It +looks so kind and pretty." + +"It is kind and pretty, only we mustn't go too near. Will you be sure +and tell Fay how it can hurt?" + +"I'll _tell_ her," he promised, but he didn't seem to have much hope of +the news acting as a deterrent. + +When at bed-time Jan announced that Tony could not possibly bathe Fay +because he mustn't get his hand wet or disturb the dressing, she and Meg +tremblingly awaited the awful fuss that seemed bound to follow. + +But Fay was always unexpected. "Then Med muss wass me," she remarked +calmly. The good custom was established and Meg began to perk up again. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE WHEELS OF CHANCE + + +Meg was out walking with the children in Kensington Gardens, and Hannah +was paying the tradesmen's books. It was the only way to make Hannah +take the air, to send her, as she put it, "to do the messages." She +liked paying the books herself, for she always suspected Jan of not +counting the change. + +Jan was alone in the flat and was laying tea for the children in the +dining-room when "ting" went the electric bell. She opened the door to +find upon the threshold an exceedingly tall young man; a well-set-up, +smart young man with square shoulders, who held out his hand to her, +saying in a friendly voice: "You may just happen to remember me, Miss +Ross, but probably not. Colonel Walcote's my uncle, and he's living in +your house, you know. My name's Middleton ... I _hope_ you remember me, +for I've come to ask a favour." + +As he spoke he gave Jan his card, and on it was "Captain Miles +Middleton, R. H. A.," and the addresses of two clubs. + +She led him to the little drawing-room, bracing herself the while to be +firm in her refusal if the Walcotes wanted the house any longer, good +tenants though they were. + +She was hopelessly vague about her guest, but felt she had met him +somewhere. She didn't like to confess how slight her recollection was, +for he looked so big and brown and friendly it seemed unkind. + +He sat down, smoothed his hat, and then with an engaging smile that +showed his excellent teeth, began: "I've come--it sounds rather +farcical, doesn't it--about a dog?" + +"A dog?" Jan repeated vaguely. "What dog?" + +"Well, he's my dog at present, but I want him to be your dog--if you'll +have him." + +"You want to give me a dog--but why? Or do you only want me to keep him +a bit for you?" + +"Well, it's like this, Miss Ross; it would be cheek to ask you to keep a +young dog, and when you'd had all the trouble of him and got fond of +him--and you'll get awfully fond of him, if you have him--to take him +away again. It wouldn't be fair, it really wouldn't ... so...." + +"Wait a bit," said the cautious Jan. "What sort of a dog is he ... if it +is a he...." + +"He's a bull-terrier...." + +"Oh, but I don't think I'm very fond of bull-terriers ... aren't they +fierce and doesn't one always associate them with public-houses? I +couldn't have a fierce dog, you know, because of the two children." + +"They're always nice with children," Captain Middleton said firmly. "And +as for the pothouse idea--that's quite played out. I suppose it was that +picture with the mug and the clay pipe. He'd _love_ the children; he's +only a child himself, you know." + +"A puppy! Oh, Captain Middleton, wouldn't he eat all our shoes and +things and tear up all the rugs?" + +"I think he's past that, I do really--he'll be a year old on Monday. +He'll be a splendid watchdog, and he's not a bit deaf--lots of 'em are, +you know--and he's frightfully well-bred. Just you look at the +pedigree ..." and Captain Middleton produced from his breast-pocket a +folded foolscap document which he handed to Jan. + +She gazed at it with polite interest, though it conveyed but little to +her mind. The name "Bloomsbury" seemed to come over and over again. +There were many dates and other names, but "Bloomsbury" certainly +prevailed, and it was evident that Captain Middleton's dog had a long +pedigree; it was all quite clearly set down, and, to Jan, very +bewildering. + +"His points are on the back page," Captain Middleton said proudly, "and +there isn't a single one a perfect bull-terrier ought to have that +William Bloomsbury hasn't got." + +"Is that his name?" + +"Yes, but I call him William, only he is of the famous Bloomsbury +strain, you know, and one can't help being a bit proud of it." + +"But," Jan objected, "if he's so well-bred and perfect, he must be +valuable--so why should you want to give him to me?" + +"I'll explain," said Captain Middleton. "You see, ever since they've +been down at Wren's End, my aunt kept him for me. He's been so happy +there, Miss Ross, and grown like anything. We're stationed in St. John's +Wood just now, you know, and he'd be certain to be stolen if I took him +back there. And now my aunt's coming to London to a flat in Buckingham +Gate. Now London's no life for a dog--a young dog, anyway--he'd be +miserable. I've been down to Wren's End very often for a few days' +hunting, and I can see he's happy as a king there, and we may be ordered +anywhere any day ... and I don't want to sell him ... You see, I know if +you take him you'll be good to him ... and he _is_ such a nice beast." + +"How do you know I'd be good to him? You know nothing about me." + +"Don't I just! Besides, I've seen you, I'm seeing you now this +minute ... I don't want to force him on you, only ... a lady living +alone in the country ought to have a dog, and if you take William you +won't be sorry--I can promise you that. He's got the biggest heart, and +he's the nicest beast ... and the most faithful...." + +"Are you sure he'll be quite gentle with the children?" + +"He's gentle with everybody, and they're well known to be particularly +good with children ... you ask anyone who knows about dogs. He was given +me when he was three weeks old, and I could put him in my pocket." + +Captain Middleton was rather appealing just then, so earnest and big and +boyish. His face was broad though lean, the features rather blunt, the +eyes set wide apart; clear, trustworthy, light-blue eyes. He looked just +what he was--a healthy, happy, prosperous young Englishman without a +real care in the world. After all, Jan reflected, there was plenty of +room at Wren's End, and it was good for the children to grow up with +animals. + +"I had thought of an Airedale," she said thoughtfully, "but----" + +"They're good dogs, but quarrelsome--fight all the other dogs round +about. Now William isn't a fighter unless he's unbearably provoked, +then, of course, he fights to kill." + +"Oh dear!" sighed Jan, "that's an awful prospect. Think of the trouble +with one's neighbours----" + +"But I assure you, it doesn't happen once in a blue moon. I've never +known him fight yet." + +"I'll tell you what, Captain Middleton; let me keep him for the present, +till you know where you're going to be stationed, and then, if you find +you can have him, he's there for you to take. I'll do my best for him, +but I want you to feel he's still your dog...." + +"It's simply no end good of you, Miss Ross. I'd like you to have him +though ... May I put it this way? If you don't like him, find him a +nuisance or want to get rid of him, you send for me and I'll fetch him +away directly. But if you like him, he's your dog. There--may I leave it +at that?" + +"We'll try to make him happy, but I expect he'll miss you dreadfully.... +I know nothing about bull-terriers; do they need any special +treatment?" + +"Oh dear, no. William's as strong as a young calf. Just a bone +occasionally and any scraps there are. There's tons of his biscuits down +there ... only two meals a day and no snacks between, and as much +exercise as is convenient--though, mind you, they're easy dogs in that +way--they don't need you to be racing about all day like some." + +The present fate of William Bloomsbury with the lengthy and exalted +pedigree being settled, Jan asked politely for her tenants, Colonel and +Mrs. Walcote, heard that it had been an excellent and open season, and +enjoyed her guest's real enthusiasm about Wren's End. + +After a few minutes of general conversation he got up to go. She saw him +out and rang up the lift, but no lift came. She rang again and again. +Nothing happened. Evidently something had gone wrong, and she saw people +walking upstairs to the flats below. Just as she was explaining the +mishap to her guest, the telephone bell sounded loudly and persistently. + +"Oh dear!" she cried. "Would you mind very much stopping a young lady +with two little children, if you meet them at the bottom of the stairs, +and tell her she is on no account to carry up little Fay. It's my +friend, Miss Morton; she's out with them, and she's not at all strong; +tell her to wait for me. I'll come the minute I've answered this +wretched 'phone." + +"Don't you worry, Miss Ross, I'll stop 'em and carry up the kiddies +myself," Captain Middleton called as he started to run down, and Jan +went back to answer the telephone. + +He ran fast, for Jan's voice had been anxious and distressed. Five long +flights did he descend, and at the bottom he met Meg and the children +just arrived to hear the melancholy news from the hall porter. + +Meg always wheeled little Fay to and from the gardens in the funny +little folding "pram" they had brought from India. The plump baby was a +tight fit, but the queer little carriage was light and easily managed. +The big policeman outside the gate often held up the traffic to let Meg +and her charges get across the road safely, and she would sail serenely +through the avenue of fiercely panting monsters with Tony holding on to +her coat, while little Fay waved delightedly to the drivers. That +afternoon she was very tired, for it had started to rain, cold, gusty +March rain. She had hurried home in dread lest Tony should take cold. It +seemed the last straw, somehow, that the lift should have gone wrong. +She left the pram with the porter and was just bracing herself to carry +heavy little Fay when this very tall young man came dashing down the +staircase, saw them and raised his hat. "Miss Morton? Miss Ross has just +entrusted me with a message ... that I'm to carry her niece upstairs," +and he took little Fay out of Meg's arms. + +Meg looked up at him. She had to look up a long way--and he looked down +into a very small white face. + +The buffeting wind that had given little Fay the loveliest colour, and +Tony a very pink nose, only left Meg pallid with fatigue; but she smiled +at Captain Middleton, and it was a smile of such radiant happiness as +wholly transfigured her face. It came from the exquisite knowledge that +Jan had thought of her, had known she would be tired. + +To be loved, to be remembered, to be taken care of was to Meg the most +wonderful thing in the world. It went to her head like wine. + +Therefore did she smile at Captain Middleton in this distracting +fashion. It started tremblingly at the corners of her mouth, and +then--quite suddenly--her wan little face became dimpled and beseeching +and triumphant all at once. + +It had no connection whatsoever with Captain Middleton, but how was he +to know that? + +It fairly bowled him, middle stump, first ball. + +No one had ever smiled at him like that before. It turned him hot and +cold, and gave him a lump in his throat with the sheer heartrending +pathos of it. And he felt an insane desire to lie down and ask this +tiny, tired girl to walk upon him if it would give her the smallest +satisfaction. + +The whole thing passed in a flash, but for him it was one of those +illuminating beams that discovers a hitherto undreamed-of panorama. + +He caught up little Fay, who made no objection, and ran up all five +flights about as fast as he had run down. Jan was just coming out of the +flat. + +"Here's one!" he cried breathlessly, depositing little Fay. "And now +I'll go down and give the little chap a ride as well." + +He met them half-way up. "Now it's your turn," he said to Tony. "Would +you like to come on my back?" + +Tony, though taciturn, was not unobservant. "I think," he said solemnly, +"Meg's more tired nor me. P'raps you'd better take her." + +Meg laughed, and what the rain and wind could not do, Tony managed. Her +cheeks grew rosy. + +"I'm afraid I should be rather heavy, Tony dear, but it's kind of you to +think of it." + +She looked up at Captain Middleton and smiled again. What a kind world +it was! And really that tall young man was rather a pleasant person. So +it fell out that Tony was carried the rest of the way, and he had a +longer ride than little Fay; for his steed mounted the staircase +soberly, keeping pace with Meg; they even paused to take breath on the +landings. And it came about that Captain Middleton went back into the +flat with the children, showing no disposition to go away, and Jan could +hardly do less than ask him to share the tea she had laid in the +dining-room. + +There he got a shock, for Meg came to tea in her cap and apron. + +Out of doors she wore a long, warm coat that entirely covered the green +linen frock, and a little round fur hat. This last was a concession to +Jan, who hated the extinguisher. So Meg looked very much like any other +girl. A little younger, perhaps, than any young woman of twenty-five +has any business to look, but pretty in her queer, compelling way. + +That she looked even prettier in her uniform Captain Middleton would +have been the first to allow; but he hated it nevertheless. There seemed +to him something incongruous and wrong for a girl with a smile like that +to be anybody's nursemaid. + +To be sure, Miss Ross was a brick, and this queer little servant of hers +called her by her Christian name and contradicted her flatly twice in +the course of tea. Miss Morton certainly did not seem to be downtrodden +... but she wore a cap and an apron--a very becoming Quakerish cap ... +without any strings ... and--"it's a d----d shame," was the outcome of +all Captain Middleton's reflections. + +"Would the man never go?" Jan wondered, when after a prolonged and +hilarious tea he followed the enraptured children back to the +drawing-room and did tricks with the fire-irons. + +Meg had departed in order to get things ready for the night, and he hung +on in the hope that she would return. Vain hope; there was no sign of +her. + +He told the children all about William Bloomsbury and exacted promises +that they would love him very much. He discussed, with many +interruptions from Fay, who wanted all his attention, the entire +countryside round about Wren's End; and, at last, as there seemed really +no chance of that extraordinary girl's return, he heaved his great +length out of his chair and bade his hostess a reluctant farewell +several times over. + +In the passage he caught sight of Meg going from one room to another +with her arms full of little garments. + +"Ah," he cried, striding towards her. "Good night, Miss Morton. I hope +we shall meet again soon," and he held out his hand. + +Meg ignored the hand, her own arms were so full of clothes: "I'm afraid +that's not likely," she said, with unfeeling cheerfulness. "We all go +down to the country on Monday." + +"Yes, yes, I know. Jolly part of the world it is, too. I expect I shall +be thereabouts a good deal this summer, my relations positively swarm in +that county." + +"Good-bye," said Meg, and turned to go. Jan stood at the end of the +passage, holding the door open. + +"I say, Miss Morton, you'll try and like my William, won't you?" + +"I like all sensible animals," was Meg's response, and she vanished into +a bedroom. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +PERPLEXITIES + + +"Don't you think it is very extraordinary that I have never had one line +from Hugo since the letter I got at Aden?" asked Jan. + +It was Friday evening, the Indian mail was in, and there was a letter +from Peter--the fourth since her return. + +"But you've heard of him from Mr. Ledgard," Meg pointed out. + +"Only that he had gone to Karachi from Bombay just before Fay +died--surely he would see papers there. It seems so heartless never to +have written me a line--I can't believe it, somehow, even of Hugo--he +must be ill or something." + +"Perhaps he was ashamed to write. Perhaps he felt you would simply +loathe him for being the cause of it all." + +"I did, I do," Jan exclaimed; "but all the same he is the children's +father, and he was her husband--I don't want anything very bad to happen +to him." + +"It would simplify things very much," Meg said dreamily. + +Jan held up her hand as if to ward off a blow. + +"Don't, Meg; sometimes I find myself wishing something of the kind, and +I know it's wrong and horrible. I want as far as I can to keep in the +right with regard to Hugo, to give him no grievance against me. I've +written to that bank where he left the money, and asked them to forward +the letters if he has left any address. I've told him exactly where we +are and what we propose to do. Beyond the bare facts of Fay's death--I +told him all about her illness as dispassionately as I could--I've never +reproached him or said anything cruel. You see, the man is down and out; +though Mr. Ledgard always declared he had any amount of mysterious wires +to pull. Yet, I can't help wondering whether he is ill somewhere, with +no money and no friends, in some dreadful native quarter." + +"What about the money in the bank, then? Did you use it?" + +Jan blushed. "No, I couldn't bear to touch his money ... Mr. Ledgard +said it was idiotic...." + +"So it was; it was Fay's money, not his. For all your good sense, Jan, +sometimes you're sentimental as a schoolgirl." + +"I daresay it was stupid, and I didn't dare to tell Mr. Ledgard I'd left +it," Jan said humbly; "but I felt that perhaps that money might help him +if things got very desperate; I left it in his name and a letter telling +him I had done so ... I didn't _give_ him any money...." + +"It was precisely the same thing." + +"And he may never have got the letter." + +"I hope he hasn't." + +"Oh, Meg, I do so hate uncertainty. I'd rather know the worst. I always +have the foreboding that he will suddenly turn up at Wren's End and +threaten to take the children away ... and get money out of me that way +... and there's none to spare...." + +"Jan, you've got into a thoroughly nervous, pessimistic state about +Hugo. Why in the world should he _want_ the children? They'd be terribly +in his way, and wherever he put them he'd have to pay _something_. You +know very well his people wouldn't keep them for nothing, even if he +were fool enough (for the sake of blackmailing you) to threaten to place +them there. His sisters wouldn't--not for nothing. What did Fay say +about his sisters? I remember one came to the wedding, but she has left +no impression on my mind. He has two, hasn't he?" + +"Yes, but only one came, the Blackpool one. But Fay met both of them, +for she spent a week-end with each, with Hugo, after she was married." + +"Well, and what did she say?" + +Jan laughed and sighed: "She said--you remember how Fay could say the +severest things in the softest, gentlest voice--that 'for social +purposes they were impossible, but they were doubtless excellent and +worthy of all esteem and that they were exactly suited to the _milieu_ +in which they lived.'" + +"And where do they live?" + +"One lives at Blackpool--she's married to ... I forget exactly what he +is--but it's something to do with letting houses. They're quite well off +and all her towels had crochet lace at the ends. Fay was much impressed +by this, as it scratched her nose. They also gave you 'doylies' at +afternoon tea and no servant ever came into the room without knocking." + +"Any children?" + +"Yes, three." + +"And the other sister?" + +"She lives at Poulton-le-Fylde, and her husband had to do with a +newspaper syndicate. Quite amusing he was, Fay says, but very shaky as +to the letter 'H.'" + +"Would they like the children?" + +"They might, for they've none of their own, but they certainly wouldn't +take them unless they were paid for, as they were not well off. They +were rather down on the Blackpool sister, Fay said, for extravagance and +general swank." + +"What about the grandparents?" + +"In Guernsey? They're quite nice old people, I believe, but +curiously--of course I'm quoting Fay--comatose and uninterested in +things, 'behindhand with the world,' she said. They thought Hugo very +wonderful, and seemed rather afraid of him. What he has told them lately +I don't know. He wrote very seldom, they said; but _I've_ written to +them, saying I've got the children and where we shall be. If they +express a wish to see the children I'll ask them to Wren's End. If, as +would be quite reasonable, they say it's too far to come--they're old +people, you know--I suppose one of us would need to take them over to +Guernsey for a visit. I do so want to do the right thing all round, and +then they can't say I've kept the children away from their father's +relations." + +"Scotch people always think such a lot about relations," Meg grumbled. +"I should leave them to stew in their own juice. Why should you bother +about them if he doesn't?" + +"They're all quite respectable, decent folk, you know, though they +mayn't be our kind. The father, I fancy, failed in business after he +came back from India. Fay said he was very meek and depressed always. I +think she was glad none of them came to the wedding except the Blackpool +sister, for she didn't want Daddie to see them. He thought the Blackpool +sister dreadful (he told me afterwards that she 'exacerbated his mind +and offended his eye'), but he was charming to her and never said a word +to Fay." + +"I don't see much sign of Hugo and his people in the children." + +"We can't tell, they're so little. One thing does comfort me, they show +no disposition to tell lies; but that, I think, is because they have +never been frightened. You see, everyone bowed down before them; and +whatever Indian servants may be in other respects, they seem to me +extraordinarily kind and patient with children." + +"Jan, what are your views about the bringing up of children?... You've +never said ... and I should like to know. You see, we're both"--here Meg +sighed deeply and looked portentously grave--"in a position of awful +responsibility." + +They were sitting on each side of the hearth, with their toes on the +fender. Meg had been sewing at an overall for little Fay, but at that +moment she laid it on her knee and ran her hands through her cropped +hair, then about two inches long all over her head, so that it stood on +end in broken spirals and feathery curls above her bright eyes. In the +evening the uniform was discarded "by request." + +Jan looked across at her and laughed. + +So funny and so earnest; so small, and yet so great with purpose. + +"I don't think I've any views. R. L. S. summed up the whole duty of +children ages ago, and it's our business to see that they do it--that's +all. Don't you remember: + + A child should always say what's true, + And speak when he is spoken to, + And behave mannerly at table: + At least as far as he is able. + +It's no use to expect too much, is it?" + +"If you expect to get the second injunction carried out in the case of +your niece you're a most optimistic person. For three weeks now I've +been perambulating Kensington Gardens with those children, and I have +never in the whole course of my life entered into conversation with so +many strangers, and it's always she who begins it. Then complications +arise and I have to intervene. I don't mind policemen and park-keepers +and roadmen, but I rather draw the line at idly benevolent old gentlemen +who join our party and seem to spend the whole morning with us...." + +"But, Meg, that never happens when I'm with you. I confess I've left +you to it this last week...." + +"And what am I here for except to be left to it--I don't mean that +anyone's rude or pushing--but Miss Tancred _is_ so friendly, and I'm not +dignified and awe-inspiring like you, you great big Jan; and the poor +men are encouraged, directly and deliberately encouraged, by your niece. +I never knew a child with such a continual flow of conversation." + +"Poor Meg," said Jan, "you won't have much more of it. Little Fay _is_ a +handful, I confess; but I always feel it must be a bit hard to be hushed +continually--and just when one feels particularly bright and sparkling, +to have all one's remarks cut short...." + +"You needn't pity that child. No amount of hushing has any effect; you +might just as well hush a blackbird or a thrush. Don't look so worried, +Jan. Did Mr. Ledgard say anything about Hugo in that letter to-night?" + +"Only that he was known to have left Karachi in a small steamer going +round the coast, but after that nothing more. Mr. Ledgard has a friend +in the Police, and even there they've heard nothing lately. I think +myself the Indian Government _wants_ to lose sight of Hugo. He's +inconvenient and disgraceful, and they'd like him blotted out as soon as +possible." + +"What else does Mr. Ledgard say? He seems to write good long letters." + +"He is coming home at the end of April for six months." + +"Oh ... then we shall see him, I suppose?" + +"I hope so." + +Meg looked keenly at Jan, who was staring into the fire, her eyes soft +and dreamy; and almost as if she was unconsciously thinking aloud, she +said: "I do hope, if Hugo chooses to turn up, he'll wait till Mr. +Ledgard is back in England." + +"You think he could manage him?" + +"I know he could." + +"Then let us pray for his return," said Meg. + +The clock on the mantelpiece struck eleven. + +"Bed-time," said Meg, "but I must have just one cigarette first. That's +what's so lovely about being with you, Jan--you don't mind. Of course +I'd never do it before the children." + +"You wouldn't shock them if you did. Fay smoked constantly." + +Meg lit her cigarette and clearly showed her real enjoyment. She had +taken to it first when she was about fifteen, as she found it helped her +to feel less hungry. Now it had become as much a necessity to her as to +many men, and the long abstinence of term-time had always been a +penance. + +She made some good rings, and, leaning forward to look through them at +Jan, said: "By the way, I must just tell you that for the last three +afternoons we've met that Captain Middleton in the Gardens." + +"Well?" + +"And he talks everlastingly about his dog--that William Bloomsbury +creature. I know _all_ the points of a bull-terrier now--'Well-set head +gradually tapering to muzzle, which is very powerful and well-filled up +in front of the eyes. Nose large and black. Teeth dead-level and big' +... oh! and reams more, every bit of him accurately described." + +"I'm a little afraid of those teeth so 'dead-level and big'--I foresee +trouble." + +"Oh, no," said Meg easily. "He's evidently a most affectionate brute. +That young man puzzles me. He's manifestly devoted to the dog, but he's +so sure he'd be stolen he'd rather have him away from him down at Wren's +End than here with him, to run that risk." + +"Surely," said Jan, "Kensington Gardens are some distance from St. +John's Wood." + +"So one would think, but the rich and idle take taxis, and he seems to +think he can in some way insure the welfare of his dog through the +children and me." + +"And what about the old gentlemen? Do they join the party as well?" + +"Oh, dear no; no old gentlemen would dare to come within miles of us +with that young man in charge of little Fay. He's like your Mr. +Ledgard--very protective." + +"I like him for being anxious about his dog, but I'm not quite so sure +that I approve of the means he takes to insure its happiness." + +"I didn't encourage him in the least, I assure you. I pointed out that +he most certainly ought not to be walking about with a nurse and two +children. That the children without the nurse would be all right, but +that my being there made the whole thing highly inexpedient, and _infra +dig_." + +"Meg!... you didn't!" + +"I did, indeed. There was no use mincing matters." + +"And what did he say?" + +"He said, 'Oh, that's all bindles'--whatever that may mean." + +"You mustn't go to the Gardens alone any more. I'll come with you +to-morrow, or, better still, we'll all go to Kew if it's fine." + +"I _should_ be glad, though I grudge the fares; but you needn't come. I +know how busy you are, with Hannah away and so much to see to--and what +earthly use am I if I can't look after the children without you?" + +"You do look after the children without me for hours and hours on end. I +could never trust anyone else as I do you." + +"I _am_ getting to manage them," Meg said proudly; "but just to-day I +must tell you--it was rather horrid--we came face to face with the +Trents in the Baby's Walk. Mrs. Trent and Lotty, the second girl, the +big, handsome one--and he evidently knows them...." + +"Who evidently knows them?" + +"Captain Middleton, silly! (I told you he was with us, talking about his +everlasting dog)--and they greeted him with effusion, so he had to stop. +But you can imagine how they glared at me. Of course I walked on with +Tony, but little Fay had his hand--I was wheeling the go-cart thing and +she stuck firmly to him, and I heard her interrupting the conversation +all the time. He followed us directly, I'll say that for him, but it was +a bad moment ... You see, they had a right to glare...." + +"They had nothing of the kind. I wish I got the chance of glaring at +them. Daddie _saw_ Mrs. Trent; he explained everything, and she said she +quite understood." + +"She would, to him, he was so nice always; but you see, Jan, I know what +she believes and what she has said, and what she will probably say to +Captain Middleton if she gets the chance." + +Meg's voice broke. "Of course I don't care----" + +She held her tousled head very high and stuck out her sharp little chin. + +"My dear," said Jan, "what with my gregarious niece and my +too-attractive nurse, I think it's a good thing we're all going down to +Wren's End, where the garden-walls are high and the garden fairly large. +Besides all that, there will be that dog with the teeth 'dead-level and +big.'" + +"Remember," said Meg. "He treated me like a princess always." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +WREN'S END + + +It stands just beyond the village of Amber Guiting, on the side furthest +from the station, which is a mile from the village. + +"C. C. S. 1819" is carved above the front door, but the house was built +a good fifty years previous to that date. + +One Charles Considine Smith, who had been a shipper of sherry in +Billiter Street, in the City of London, bought it in that year from a +Quaker called Solomon Page, who planted the yew hedge that surrounds the +smooth green lawn seen from the windows of the morning-room. There was a +curious clause attached to the title-deeds, which stipulated that no +cats should be kept by the owner of Wren's End, lest they should +interfere with the golden-crested wrens that built in the said yew +hedge, or the brown wrens building at the foot of the hedges in the +orchard. Appended to this injunction were the following verses: + + If aught disturb the wrens that build, + If ever little wren be killed + By dweller in Wren's End-- + + Misfortunes--whence he shall not know-- + Shall fall on him like noiseless snow, + And all his steps attend. + + Peace be upon this house; and all + That dwell therein good luck befall, + That do the wrens befriend. + +Charles Considine Smith faithfully kept to his agreement regarding the +protection of the wrens, and much later wrote a series of articles upon +their habits, which appeared in the _North Cotswold Herald_. He seems to +have been on friendly terms with Solomon Page, who, having inherited a +larger property in the next county, removed thence when he sold Wren's +End. + +In 1824 Smith married Tranquil Page, daughter of Solomon. She was then +thirty-seven years old, and, according to one of her husband's diaries, +"a staid person like myself." She was twenty years younger than her +husband and bore him one child, a daughter also named Tranquil. + +She, however, appears to have been less staid than her parents, for she +ran away before she was twenty with a Scottish advocate called James +Ross. + +The Smiths evidently forgave the wilful Tranquil, for, on the death of +Charles, she and her husband left Scotland and settled with her mother +at Wren's End. She had two children, Janet, the great-aunt who left Jan +Wren's End, and James, Jan's grandfather, who was sent to Edinburgh for +his education, and afterwards became a Writer to the Signet. He married +and settled in Edinburgh, preferring Scotland to England, and it was +with his knowledge and consent that Wren's End was left to his sister +Janet. + +Janet never married. She was energetic, prudent, and masterful, having +an excellent head for business. She was kind to her nephews and nieces +in a domineering sort of way, and had always a soft place in her heart +for Anthony, though she regarded him as more or less of a scatter-brain. +When she was nearly eighty she commanded his little girls to visit her. +Jan was then fourteen and Fay eleven. She liked them because they had +good manners and were neither of them in the least afraid of her. And at +her death, six years later, she left Wren's End to Jan absolutely--as it +stood; but she left her money to Anthony's elder brother, who had a +large family and was not particularly well off. + +That year was a good artistic year for Anthony, and he spent over five +hundred pounds in--as he put it--"making Jan's house habitable." + +This proved not a bad investment, for they had let it every winter since +to Colonel Walcote for the hunting season, as three packs of hounds met +within easy reach of it; and although the stabling accommodation at +Wren's End was but small, plenty of loose boxes were always obtainable +from Farmer Burgess quite near. + +Amber Guiting is a big village, almost a little town. It possesses an +imposing main street wherein are several shops, among them a stationer's +with a lending library in connection with Mudie's; a really beautiful +old inn with a courtyard; and grave-looking, dignified houses occupied +by the doctor, a solicitor, and several other persons of acknowledged +gentility. + +There were many "nice places" round about, and altogether the +inhabitants of Amber Guiting prided themselves, with some reason, on the +social and æsthetic advantages of their neighbourhood. Moreover, it is +not quite three hours from Paddington. You catch the express from the +junction. + +Notwithstanding all these agreeable circumstances, William Bloomsbury +was very lonely and miserable. + +All the friends he knew and loved had gone, leaving him in the somewhat +stepmotherly charge of a caretaker from the village, who was supposed to +be getting the house ready for its owner. To join her came +Hannah--having left her young ladies with an "orra-buddy" in the flat. +And after Hannah came the caretaker-lady did not stop long, for their +ideas on the subject of cleanliness were diametrically opposed. Hannah +was faithful and punctual as regarded William's meals; but though his +body was more comfortable than during the caretaker's reign, his heart +was empty and hungry, and he longed ardently for social intercourse and +an occasional friendly pat. + +Presently in Hannah's train came Anne Chitt, a meek young assistant from +the village, who did occasionally gratify William's longing for a little +attention; but so soon as she began to pat him and say he was a good +dog, she was called away by Hannah to sweep or dust or wash something. +In William's opinion the whole house was a howling wilderness where +pails of water easily upset, and brooms that fell upon the unsuspecting +with resounding blows lay ambushed in unexpected places. + +Men and dogs alike abhor "spring-cleaning," and William's heart died +within him. + +There came a day, however, when things were calmer. The echoing, +draughty house grew still and warm, and a fire was lit in the hall. +William lay in front of it unmolested; but he felt dejected and lonely, +and laid his head down on his crossed paws in patient melancholy. + +Late in the afternoon, there came a sound of wheels in the drive. Hannah +and Anne Chitt, decorous in black dresses and clean aprons, came into +the hall and opened the front door, and in three minutes William knew +that happier times were in store for him. The "station-fly" stopped at +the door, and regardless of Hannah's reproving voice he rushed out to +welcome the strangers. Two children, nice children, who appeared as glad +to see him as he was to see them, who wished him many happy returns of +his birthday--William had forgotten it was his birthday--and were as +lavish with pats and what little Fay called "stlokes" as Hannah had been +niggardly. There were also two young ladies, who addressed him kindly +and seemed pleasantly aware of his existence, and William liked young +ladies, for the three Miss Walcotes had thoroughly spoiled him. But he +decided to attach himself most firmly to the children and the very small +young lady. Perhaps they would stay. In his short experience grown +people had a cruel way of disappearing. There was that tall young man +... William hardly dared let himself think about that tall young man who +had allowed him to lie upon his bed and was so kind and jolly. "Master" +William had called him. Ah, where was he? Perhaps he would come back +some day. In the meantime here were plenty of people to love. William +cheered up. + +[Illustration: William rushed out to welcome the strangers. Two ... nice +children.] + +He wished to ingratiate himself, and proceeded to show off his one +accomplishment. With infinite difficulty and patience the Miss Walcotes +had taught him to "give a paw"; so now, on this first evening, William +followed the children about solemnly offering one paw and then the +other; a performance which was greeted with acclamation. + +When the children went to the bathroom he somehow got shut outside. So +he lay down and breathed heavily through the bottom of the door and +varied this by thin, high-pitched yelps--which were really squeals, and +very extraordinary as proceeding from such a large and heavy dog. + +"William wants to come in," Tony said. He still always accompanied his +sister to the bath. + +Meg was seized with an inspiration. "I know why," she exclaimed. "He +expects to see little Fay in the big bath." + +Fay looked from Meg to her brother and from her brother to Meg. + +Another dismal squeal from under the door. + +"Does he tluly espect it?" she asked anxiously. + +"I think so," Meg said gravely, "and we can't let him in if you're going +to be washed in the little bath; he'd be so disappointed." + +The little bath stood ready on its stand. Fay turned her back upon it +and went and looked over the edge of the big bath. It was a very big +bath, white and beautiful, with innumerable silvered handles that +produced sprays and showers and waves and all sorts of wonders. An +extravagance of Anthony's. + +"Will William come in, too?" she asked. + +"No; he'd make such a mess; but he'd love to see you. We'll all bathe +William some other time." + +More squeals from outside, varied by dolorous snores. + +"Let him in," said little Fay. "I'll show him me." + +Quick as thought Meg lifted her in, opened the door to the delighted +William, who promptly stood on his hind legs, with his front paws on the +bath, and looked over the edge at little Fay. + +"See me swim," she exclaimed proudly, sitting down in the water, while +William, with his tongue hanging out and a fond smile of admiration on +his foolish countenance, tried to lick the plump pink shoulders +presented to his view. "This is a muts nicer baff than the nasty little +one. I can't think what you bringed it for, deah Med." + +"Deah Med" and Tony nodded gaily to one another. + +Hannah had made William sleep in the scullery, which he detested. She +put his basket there and his blanket, and he was warm enough, but +creature comforts matter little to the right kind of dog. It's human +fellowship he craves. That night she came to fetch him at bed-time, and +he refused point-blank to go. He put his head on Meg's knee and gazed at +her with beseeching eyes that said as plainly as possible: "Don't banish +me--where you go I go--don't break my heart and send me away into the +cold." + +Perhaps the cigarette smoke that hung about Meg gave him confidence. His +master smelt like that. And William went to bed with his master. + +"D'you think he might sleep in the dressing-room?" Meg asked. "I know +how young dogs hate to be alone at night. Put his basket there, +Hannah--I'll let him out and see to him, and you could get him first +thing in the morning." + +Hannah gave a sniff of disapproval, but she was always very careful to +do whatever Meg asked her at once and ungrudgingly. It was partly an +expression of her extreme disapproval of the uniform. But Meg thought it +was prompted entirely by Hannah's fine feeling, and loved her dearly in +consequence. + +Nearly all the bedrooms at Wren's End had dressing-rooms. Tony slept in +Jan's, with the door between left open. Fay's little cot was drawn up +close to Meg's bed. William and his basket occupied the dressing-room, +and here, also, the door was left open. + +While Meg undressed, William was quite still and quiet, but when she +knelt down to say her prayers he was overcome with curiosity, and, +getting out of his basket, lurched over to her to see what she was +about. Could she be crying that she covered her face? William couldn't +bear people to cry. + +He thrust his head under her elbow. She put her arm round his neck and +he sat perfectly still. + +"Pray for your master, William," Meg whispered. + + * * * * * * * * + +"I like to look at it," said Tony. + +"Oh, London may be very gay, but it's nothing to the countryside," sang +Meg. + +"What nelse?" inquired little Fay, who could never be content with a +mere snatch of song. + +"Oh, there's heaps and heaps of nelse," Jan answered. "Come along, +chicks, we'll go and see everything. This is home, you know, where dear +Mummy wanted you to be." + +It was their first day at Wren's End, and the weather was kind. They +were all four in the drive, looking back at the comfortable +stone-fronted Georgian house. The sun was shining, a cheerful April sun +that had little warmth in it but much tender light; and this showed how +all around the hedges were getting green; that buds were bursting from +brown twigs, as if the kind spring had covered the bare trees with a +thin green veil; and that all sorts of green spears were thrusting up in +the garden beds. + +Down the drive they all four ran, accompanied by a joyfully galumphing +William, who was in such good spirits that he occasionally gave vent to +a solemn deep-chested bark. + +When they came to the squat grey lodge, there was Mrs. Earley standing +in her doorway to welcome them. Mrs. Earley was Earley's mother, and +Earley was gardener and general factotum at Wren's End. Mrs. Earley +looked after the chickens, and when she had exchanged the news with Jan, +and rather tearfully admired "poor Mrs. Tancred's little 'uns," she +escorted them all to the orchard to see the cocks and hens and chickens. +Then they visited the stable, where Placid, the pony, was sole occupant. +In former years Placid had been kept for the girls to drive in the +governess-cart and to pull the heavy lawn-mower over the lawns. And +Hannah had been wont to drive him into Amesberrow every Sunday, that she +might attend the Presbyterian church there. She put him up at a +livery-stable near her church and always paid for him herself. Anthony +Ross usually had hired a motor for the summer months. Now they would +depend entirely on Placid and a couple of bicycles for getting about. +All round the walled garden did they go, and Meg played horses with the +children up and down the broad paths while Jan discussed vegetables with +Earley. And last of all they went to the back door to ask Hannah for +milk and scones, for the keen, fresh air had made them all hungry. + +Refreshed and very crumby, they were starting out again when Hannah laid +a detaining hand on Jan's arm: "Could you speak a minute, Miss Jan?" + +The children and Meg gone, Hannah led the way into the kitchen with an +air of great mystery; but she did not shut the doors, as Anne Chitt was +busy upstairs. + +"What is it, Hannah?" Jan asked nervously, for she saw that this +summons portended something serious. + +"It's about Miss Morton I want to speak, Miss Jan. I was in hopes she'd +never wear they play-acting claes down here ..." (when Hannah was deeply +earnest she always became very Scotch), "but it seems I hoped in vain. +And what am I to say to ither folk when they ask me about her?" + +"What is there to say, Hannah, except that she is my dear friend, and by +her own wish is acting as nurse to my sister's children?" + +"I ken that; I'm no sayin' a word against that; but first of all she +goes and crops her hair--fine hair she had too, though an awfu-like +colour--and not content with flying in the face of Providence that way, +she must needs dress like a servant. And no a weiss-like servant, +either, but one o' they besoms ye see on the hoardings in London wha act +in plays. Haven't I seen the pictures mysel'? 'The Quaker Gerrl,' or +some such buddy." + +"Oh, I assure you, Hannah, Miss Morton in no way resembles those ladies, +and I can't see that it's any business of ours what she wears. You know +that she certainly does what she has undertaken to do in the best way +possible." + +"I'm no saying a word against her wi' the children, and there never was +a young lady who gave less trouble, save in the way o' tobacco ash, and +was more ready to help--but yon haverals is very difficult to explain. +_You_ may understand, Miss Jan. I may _say_ I understand--though I +don't--but who's to make the like o' that Anne Chitt understand? Only +this morning she keeps on at me wi' her questions like the clapper o' a +bell. 'Is she a servant? If she's no, why does she wear servants' claes? +Why does she have hair like a boy? Has she had a fever or something +wrong wi' her heid? Is she one of they suffragette buddies and been in +prison?'--till I was fair deeved and bade the lassie hold her tongue. +But so it will be wherever Miss Morton goes in they fantastic claes. +Now, Miss Jan, tell me the honest truth--did you ever see a +self-respecting, respectable servant in the like o' yon? Does she _look_ +like any servant you've ever heard tell of out of a stage-play?" + +"Not a bit, Hannah; she looks exactly like herself, and therefore not in +the least like any other person. Don't you worry. Miss Morton requires +no explanation. All we must do is to see that she doesn't overwork +herself." + +"Then ye'll no speak to her, Miss Jan?" + +"Not I, Hannah. Why should I dictate to her as to what she wears? She +doesn't dictate to me." + +This was not strictly true, for Meg was most interfering in the matter +of Jan's clothes. Hannah shook her head. "I thocht it my duty to speak, +Miss Jan, and I'll say no more. But it's sheer defiance o' her Maker to +crop her heid and to clothe herself in whim-whams, when she could be +dressed like a lady; and I'm real vexed she should make such an object +of herself when she might just be quite unnoticeable, sae wee and +shelpit as she is." + +"I'm afraid," said Jan, "that Miss Morton will never be quite +unnoticeable, whatever she may wear. But don't let us talk about it any +more. You understand, don't you, Hannah?" + +When Jan's voice took that tone Hannah knew that further argument was +unavailing. + +Jan turned to go, and saw Tony waiting for her in the open doorway. +Neither of them had either heard or seen him come. + +Quite silently he took her hand and did not speak till they were well +away from the house. Meg and little Fay were nowhere in sight. Jan +wondered how much he had heard. + +"She's a very proud cook, isn't she?" he said presently. + +"She's a very old servant," Jan explained, "who has known me all my +life." + +"If," said Tony, as though after deep thought, "she gets very +chubbelsome, you send for me. Then I will go to her and say '_Jāŏ!_'" +Tony followed this up by some fluent Hindustani which, had Jan but known +it, seriously reflected on the character of Hannah's female ancestry. +"I'll say '_Jāŏ!_'," he went on. "I'll say it several times very loud, +and point to the door. Then she'll roll up her bedding, and you'll give +her money and her chits, and she will depart." + +They had reached a seat. On this Jan sank, for the vision of Tony +pointing majestically down the drive while little Hannah staggered into +the distance under a rolled-up mattress, was too much for her. + +"But I don't want her to go," she gasped. "I love her dearly." + +"She should not speak to you like that; she scolded you," he said +firmly. "She is a servant ... She _is_ a servant?" he added doubtfully. + +"How much did you hear of what she said? Did you understand?" + +"I came back directly to fetch you, I thought she _sounded_ cross. Mummy +was afraid when people were cross; she liked me to be with her. I +thought you would like me to be with you. If she was very rude I could +beat her. I beat the boy--not Peter's boy, our boy--he was rude to +Mummy. He did not dare to touch me because I am a sahib ... I will beat +Hannah if you like." + +Tony stood in front of Jan, very earnest, with an exceedingly pink nose, +for the wind was keen. He had never before said so much at one time. + +"Shall I go back and beat her?" he asked again. + +"Certainly not," Jan cried, clutching Tony lest he should fly off there +and then. "We don't _do_ such things here at home. Nobody is beaten, +ever. I'm sure Peter never beats his servants." + +"No," Tony allowed. "A big sahib must not strike a servant, but I can, +and I do if they are rude. She was rude about Meg." + +"She didn't mean to be rude." + +"She found fault with her clothes and her hair. She is a very proud and +impudent cook." + +"Tony dear, you really don't understand. She wasn't a bit rude. She was +afraid other people might mistake Meg for a servant. She was all _for_ +Meg--truly she was." + +"She scolded you," he rejoined obstinately. + +"Not really, Tony; she didn't mean to scold." + +Tony looked very hard at Jan. + +In silence they stared at one another for quite a minute. Jan got up off +the seat. + +"Let's go and find the others," she said. + +"She is a very proud cook," Tony remarked once more. + +Jan sighed. + + * * * * * + +That night while she was getting ready for bed Tony woke up. His cot was +placed so that he could see into Jan's room, and the door between was +always left open. She was standing before the dressing-table, taking +down her hair. + +Unlike the bedrooms at the flat, the room was not cold though both the +windows were open. Wren's End was never cold, though always fresh, for +one of Anthony's earliest improvements had been a boiler-house and +central heating, with radiators set under the windows, so that they +could always stand open. + +Jan had not put on her dressing-gown, and her night-dress had rather +short, loose sleeves that fell back from her arms as she raised them. + +He watched the white arm wielding the brush with great pleasure; he +decided he liked to look at it. + +"Auntie Jan!" + +She turned and flung her hair back from her face in a great silver +cloud. + +"You awake, sonny! Did I make a noise?" + +"No, I just woke. Auntie Jan, will Daddie ever come here?" + +"I expect so." + +"Well, listen. If he does, he shan't take your things, your pretty +twinkly things. I won't let him." + +Jan stood as if turned to stone. + +"He took Mummy's. I saw him; I couldn't stop him, I was so little. But +she _said_--she said it twice before she went away from that last +bungalow--she said: 'Take care of Auntie Jan, Tony; don't let Daddie +take her things.' So I won't." + +Tony was sitting up. His room was all in darkness; two candles were lit +on Jan's dressing-table. He could see her, but she couldn't see him. + +She came to him, stooped over him, and laid her cheek against his so +that they were both veiled with her hair. "Darling, I don't think poor +Daddie would want to take my things. You must try not to think hardly of +Daddie." + +Tony parted the veil of hair with a gentle hand so that they could both +see the candles. + +"You don't know my Daddie ... much," he said, "do you?" + +Jan shuddered. + +"I saw him," he went on in his queer little unemotional voice. "I saw +him take all her pretty twinkly things; and her silver boxes. I'm glad I +sleep here." + +"Did she mind much?" Jan whispered. + +"I don't know. She didn't see him take them, only me. She hadn't come to +bed. She never said nothing to me--only about you." + +"I don't expect," Jan made a great effort to speak naturally, "that +Daddie would care about my things ... It's different, you see." + +"I'm glad I sleep here," Tony repeated, "and there's William only just +across the passage." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +"THE BLUDGEONINGS OF CHANCE" + + +They had been at Wren's End nearly three weeks, and sometimes Jan +wondered if she appeared to Tony as unlike her own conception of herself +as Tony's of his father was unlike what she had pictured him. + +She knew Hugo Tancred to be dishonest, shifty, and wholly devoid of a +sense of honour, but she had up till quite lately always thought of him +as possessing a lazy sort of good-nature. + +Tony was changing this view. + +He was not yet at all talkative, but every now and then when he was +alone with her he became frank and communicative, as reserved people +often will when suddenly they let themselves go. And his very simplicity +gave force to his revelations. + +During their last year together in India it was evident that downright +antagonism had existed between Hugo Tancred and his little son. Tony had +weighed his father and found him wanting; and it was clear that he had +tried to insert his small personality as a buffer between his father and +mother. + +Jan talked constantly to the children of their mother. Her portraits, +Anthony's paintings and sketches, were all over the house, in every +variety of happy pose. One of the best was hung at the foot of Tony's +cot. The gentle blue eyes seemed to follow him in wistful benediction, +and alone in bed at night he often thought of her, and of his home in +India. It was, then, quite natural that he should talk of them to this +Auntie Jan who had evidently loved his mother well; and from Tony Jan +learned a good deal more about her brother-in-law than she had ever +heard from his wife. + +Tony loved to potter about with his aunt in the garden. She worked +really hard, for there was much to do, and he tried his best to assist, +often being a very great hindrance; but she never sent him away, for she +desired above all things to gain his confidence. + +One day after a hard half-hour's weeding, when Tony had wasted much time +by pulling up several sorts of the wrong thing, Jan felt her temper +getting edgy, so they sat down to rest upon one of the many convenient +seats to be found at Wren's End. Anthony hated a garden where you +couldn't sit comfortably and smoke, wheresoever the prospect was +pleasing. + +Tony sat down too, looking almost rosy after his labours. + +He didn't sit close and cuddly, as little Fay would have done, but right +at the other end of the seat, where he could stare at her. Every day was +bringing Tony more surely to the conclusion that "he liked to look at" +his aunt. + +"You like Meg, don't you?" he said. + +"No," Jan shook her head. "I don't like her. I love her; which is quite +a different thing." + +"Do you like people and love them?" + +"I like some people--a great many people--then there are others, not so +many, that I love--you're one of them." + +"Is Fay?" + +"Certainly, dear little Fay." + +"And Peter?" + +For a moment Jan hesitated. With heightened colour she met Tony's grave, +searching eyes. Above everything she desired to be always true and +sincere with him, that he might, as on that first night in England, feel +that he "believed" her. "I have every reason to love Mr. Ledgard," she +said slowly: "he was so wonderfully kind to all of us." She was +determined to be loyal to Peter with poor Fay's children. Jan hated +ingratitude. To have said she only liked Peter must have given Tony the +impression that she was both forgetful and ungrateful. She would not +risk that even though she might risk misunderstanding of another kind if +he ever repeated her words to anybody else. + +Her heart beat rather faster than was comfortable, and she was thankful +that she and Tony were alone. + +"Who _do_ you like?" he asked. + +"Nearly everybody; the people in the village, our good neighbours ... +Can't you see the difference yourself? Now, you love your dear Mummy and +you like ... say, William----" + +"No," Tony said firmly, "I love William. I don't think," he went on, "I +like people ... much. Either I love them like you said, or I don't care +about them at all ... or I hate them." + +"That," said Jan, "is a mistake. It's no use to hate people." + +"But if you feel like it ... I hate people if they cheat me." + +"But who on earth would cheat you? What do you mean?" + +"Once," said Tony, and by the monotonous, detached tone of his voice Jan +knew he was going to talk about his father, "my Daddie asked me if I'd +like to see smoke come out of his ears ... an' he said: 'Put your hand +here on me and watch very careful.'" Tony pointed to Jan's chest. "I put +my hand there and I watched and watched an' he hurt me with the end of +his cigar. There's the mark!" He held out a grubby little hand, back +uppermost, for Jan's inspection, and there, sure enough, was the little +round white scar. + +"And what did you do?" she asked. + +"I bit him." + +"Oh, Tony, how dreadful!" + +"I shouldn't of minded so much if he'd really done it--the smoke out of +his ears, I mean; but not one teeniest little puff came. I watched so +careful ... He cheated me." + +Jan said nothing. What could she say? Hot anger burned in her heart +against Hugo. She could have bitten him herself. + +"Peter was there," Tony went on, "and Peter said it served him right." + +"Yes," said Jan, grasping at this straw, "but what did Peter say to +you?" + +"He said, 'Sahibs don't cry and sahibs don't bite,' and if I was a sahib +I mustn't do it, so I don't. I don't bite people often." + +"I should hope not; besides, you know, sometimes quite good-natured +people will do things in fun, never thinking it will hurt." + +Tony gazed gloomily at Jan. "He cheated me," he repeated. "He said he +would make it come out of his ears, and it didn't. He didn't like +me--that's why." + +"I don't think you ought to say that, and be so unforgiving. I expect +Daddie forgot all about your biting him directly, and yet you remember +what he did after this long time." + +Poor Jan did try so hard to be fair. + +"I wasn't afraid of him," Tony went on, as though he hadn't heard, "not +really. Mummy was. She was drefully afraid. He said he'd whip me because +I was so surly, and she was afraid he would ... I _knew_ he wouldn't, +not unless he could do it some cheaty way, and you can't whip people +that way. But it frightened Mummy. She used to send me away when he +came...." + +Tony paused and knitted his brows, then suddenly he smiled. "But I +always came back very quick, because I knew she wanted me, and I liked +to look at him. He liked Fay, I suppose he liked to look at her, so do +I. Nobody wants to look at me ... much ... except Mummy." + +"I do," Jan said hastily. "I like to look at you just every bit as much +as I like to look at Fay. I think you care rather too much what people +look like, Tony." + +"It does matter a lot," Tony said obstinately. + +"Other things matter much more. Courage and kindness and truth and +honesty. Look at Mr. Ledgard--he's not what you'd call a beautiful +person, and yet I'm sure we all like to look at him." + +"Sometimes you say Peter, and sometimes Mr. Ledgard. Why?" + +Again Jan's heart gave that queer, uncomfortable jump. She certainly +always _thought_ of him as Peter. Quite unconsciously she occasionally +spoke of him as Peter. Meg had observed this, but, unlike Tony, made no +remark. + +"Why?" Tony repeated. + +"I suppose," Jan mumbled feebly, "it's because I hear the rest of you do +it. I've no sort of right to." + +"Auntie Jan," Tony said earnestly. "What is a devil?" + +"I haven't the remotest idea, Tony," Jan replied, with the utmost +sincerity. + +"It isn't anything very nice, is it, or nice to look at?" + +"It might be," said Jan, with Scottish caution. + +"Daddie used to call me a surly little devil--when I used to come back +because Mummy was frightened ... she was always frightened when he +talked about money, and he did it a lot ... When he saw me, he would +say: 'Wot you doing here, you surly little devil--listening, eh?'" +Tony's youthful voice took on such a snarl that Jan positively jumped, +and put out her hand to stop him. "'I'll give you somefin to listen +to....'" + +"Tony, Tony, couldn't you try to forget all that?" + +Tony shook his head. "No! I shall never forget it, because, you see, +it's all mixed up with Mummy so, and you said"--here Tony held up an +accusing small finger at Jan--"you said I was never to forget her, not +the least little bit." + +"I know I did," Jan owned, and fell to pondering what was best to be +done about these memories. Absently she dug her hoe into the ground, +making ruts in the gravel, while Tony watched her solemnly. + +"Then why," he went on, "do you not want me to remember Daddie?" + +"Because," said Jan, "everything you seem to remember sounds so unkind." + +"Well, I can't help that," Tony answered. + +Jan arose from the seat. "If we sit idling here all afternoon," she +remarked severely, "we shall never get that border weeded for Earley." + +The afternoon post came in at four, and when Jan went in there were +several letters for her on the hall-table, spread out by Hannah in a +neat row, one above the other. It was Saturday, and the Indian mail was +in. There was one from Peter, but it was another letter that Jan seized +first, turning it over and looking at the post-mark, which was +remarkably clear. She knew the excellent handwriting well, though she +had seen it comparatively seldom. + +It was Hugo Tancred's; and the post-mark was Port Said. She opened it +with hands that trembled, and it said: + + "MY DEAR JAN, + + "In case other letters have miscarried, which is quite + possible while I was up country, let me assure you how + grateful I am for all you did for my poor wife and the + children--and for me in letting me know so faithfully what + your movements have been. I sent to the bank for your + letters while passing through Bombay recently, and but for + your kindness in allowing the money I had left for my + wife's use to remain to my credit, I should have been + unable to leave India, for things have gone sadly against + me, and the world is only too ready to turn its back upon a + broken man. + + "When I saw by the notice in the papers that my beloved + wife was no more, I realised that for me the lamp is + shattered and the light of my life extinguished. All that + remains to me is to make the best of my poor remnant of + existence for the sake of my children. + + "We will talk over plans when we meet. I hope to be in + England in about another month, perhaps sooner, and we will + consult together as to what is best to be done. + + "I have no doubt it will be possible to find a good and + cheap preparatory school where Tony can be safely bestowed + for the present, and one of my sisters would probably take + my precious little Fay, if you find it inconvenient to have + her with you. A boy is always better at school as soon as + possible, and I have strong views as to the best methods of + education. I never for a moment forget my responsibilities + towards my children and the necessity for a father's + supreme authority. + + "You may be sure that, in so far as you make it possible + for me to do so, I will fall in with your wishes regarding + them in every way. + + "It will not be worth your while writing to me here, as my + plans are uncertain. I will try to give you notice of my + arrival, but may reach you before my next letter. + + "Yours affectionately, + + "HUGO TANCRED." + +Still as a statue sat Jan. From the garden came the cheerful chirruping +of birds and constant, eager questioning of Earley by the children. +Earley's slow Gloucestershire speech rumbled on in muffled _obbligato_ +to the higher, carrying, little voices. + +The whirr of a sewing-machine came from the morning-room, now the +day-nursery, where Meg was busy with frocks for little Fay. + +In a distant pantry somebody was clinking teacups. Jan shivered, though +the air from the open window was only fresh, not cold. At that moment +she knew exactly how an animal feels when caught in a trap. Hugo +Tancred's letter was the trap, and she was in it. With the exception of +the lie about other letters--Jan was perfectly sure he had written no +other letters--and the stereotyped phrases about shattered lamps and the +wife who was "no more," the letter was one long menace--scarcely veiled. +That sentence, "in so far as you make it possible for me to do so, I +will fall in with your wishes regarding them in every way," simply meant +that if Jan was to keep the children she must let Hugo make ducks and +drakes of her money; and if he took her money, how could she do what she +ought for the children? + +And he was at Port Said; only a week's journey. + +Why had she left that money in Bombay? Why had she not listened to +Peter? Sometimes she had thought that Peter held rather a cynically low +view of his fellow-creatures--some of his fellow-creatures. Surely no +one could be all bad? Jan had hoped great things of adversity for Hugo +Tancred. Peter indulged in no such pleasant illusions, and said so. +"Schoolgirl sentimentality" Meg had called it, and so it was. "No doubt +it will be possible to find some cheap preparatory school for Tony." + +Would he try to steal Tony? + +From the charitable mood that hopeth all things Jan suddenly veered to a +belief in all things evil of her brother-in-law. At that moment she felt +him capable of murdering the child and throwing his little body down a +well, as they do in India. + +Again she shivered. + +What was she to do? + +So helpless, so unprotected; so absolutely at his mercy because she +loved the children. "Never let him blackmail you," Peter had said. +"Stand up to him always, and he'll probably crumple up." + +Suddenly, as though someone had opened shutters in a pitch-dark room, +letting in the blessed light, Jan remembered there was also a letter +from Peter. + +She crossed the hall to get it, though her legs shook under her and her +knees were as water. + +She felt she couldn't get back to the window-seat, so she sat on the +edge of the gate-table and opened the letter. + +A very short letter, only one side of a page. + + "DEAR MISS ROSS, + + "This is the last mail for a bit, for I come myself by the + next, the _Macedonia_. You may catch me at Aden, but + certainly a note will get me at Marseilles, if you are kind + enough to write. Tancred has been back in Bombay and gone + again in one of the smaller home-going boats. Where he got + the money to go I can't think, for from many sources lately + I've heard that his various ventures have been far from + prosperous, and no one will trust him with a rupee. + + "So look out for blackmail, and be firm, mind. + + "I go to my aunt in Artillery Mansions on arrival. When may + I run down to see you all? + + "Yours always sincerely, + + "PETER LEDGARD." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +"THOUGH AN HOST SHOULD ENCAMP AGAINST ME" + + +The flap of the gate-leg table creaked under Jan's weight, but she dug +her heels into the rug and balanced, for she felt incapable of moving. + +Peter was coming home; if the worst came to the worst he would deal with +Hugo, and a respite would be gained. But Peter would go out to India +again and Hugo would not. The whole miserable business would be +repeated--and how could she continue to worry Peter with her affairs? +What claim had she upon him? As though she were some stranger seeing it +for the first time, Jan looked round the square, comfortable hall. She +saw it with new eyes sharpened by apprehension; yet everything was +solidly the same. + +The floor with its draught-board pattern of large, square, black and +white stones; the old dark chairs; the high bookcases at each side of +the hearth; the wide staircase with its spacious, windowed turning and +shallow steps, so easily traversed by little feet; the whole steeped in +that atmosphere of friendly comfort that kind old houses get and keep. + +Such a good place to be young in. + +Such a happy place, so safe and sheltered and pleasant. + +Outside the window a wren was calling to his mate with a note that +sounded just like a faint kiss; such a tender little song. + +The swing door was opened noisily and Anne Chitt appeared bearing the +nursery tea-tray, deposited it in the nursery, opened the front door, +thumped on the gong and vanished again. Meg came out from the nursery +with two pairs of small slippers in her hand: "Where are my children? I +left little Fay with Earley while I finished the overalls; he's a most +efficient under-nurse--I suppose you left Tony with him too. Such a lot +of letters for you. Did you get your mail? I heard from both the boys. +Ah, sensible Earley's taking them round to the back door. Where's +William's duster? Hannah does make such a fuss about paw-marks." And +Meg, too, vanished through the swing door. + +Slowly Jan dragged herself off the table, gathered up her unread +letters, and went into the nursery. She felt as though she were +dreadfully asleep and couldn't awake to realise the wholesome everyday +world around her. + +Vaguely she stared round the room, the most charming room in Wren's End. +Panelled in wood long since painted white, with two delightful rounded +corner cupboards, it gave straight on to the wrens' sunk lawn from a big +French window with steps, an anachronism added by Miss Janet Ross. Five +years ago Anthony had brought a beautiful iron gate from Venice that +fitted into the archway, cut through the yew hedge and leading to the +drive. Jan had given this room to the children because in summer they +could spend the whole day in its green-walled garden, quite safe and +shut in from every possibility of mischief. A sun-dial was in the +centre, and in one corner a fat stone cherub upheld a bath for the +birds. Daffodils were in bloom on the banks, and one small single tulip +of brilliant red. Jan went out and stood on the top step. + +Long immunity from menace of any kind had made all sorts of little birds +extraordinarily bold and friendly. Even the usually shy and furtive +golden-crested wrens fussed in and out under the yew hedge quite +regardless of Jan. + +Through an open window overhead came the sound of cheerful high voices, +and little Fay started to sing at the top of her strong treble: + + Thlee mice went into a hole to spin, + Puss came by, and puss peeped in; + What are you doing, my littoo old men? + We're weaving coats for gentoomen. + +"Is that what I've been doing?" thought Jan. "Weaving coats of many +colours out of happy dreams?" Were she and the children the mice, she +wondered. + +Marauding cats had been kept away from Wren's End for over a hundred +years. "The little wrens that build" had been safe enough. But what of +these poor human nestlings? + +"Shall I come and help loo to wind up loo thleds?" sang little Fay. "Oh, +no, Missis Pussy, you'd bite off our heads!" And Tony joined in with a +shout: "Oh, no, Missis Pussy, you'd bite off our heads." + +The voices died away, the children were coming downstairs. + +Jan drank three cups of tea and crumbled one piece of bread and butter +on her plate. The rest of the party were hungry and full of adventures. +Before she joined Earley little Fay had been to the village with Meg to +buy tape, and she had a great deal to say about this expedition. Meg saw +that something was troubling Jan, and wondered if Mr. Ledgard had given +her fresh news of Hugo. But Meg never asked questions or worried people. +She chattered to the children, and immediately after tea carried them +off for the usual washing of hands. + +Jan went out into the hall; the door was open and the sunny spring +evening called to her. When she was miserable she always wanted to walk, +and she walked now; swiftly down the drive she went and out along the +road till she came to the church, which stood at the end of the village +nearest to Wren's End. + +She turned into the churchyard, and up the broad pathway between the +graves to the west door. + +Near the door was a square headstone marking the grave of Charles +Considine Smith; and she paused beside it to read once more the somewhat +strange inscription. + +Under his name and age, cut deep in the moss-grown stone, were the +words: "_Though an host should encamp against me, my heart shall not +fear._" + +Often before Jan had wondered what could have caused Tranquil, his wife, +to choose so strenuous an epitaph. Tranquil, who had never stirred +twenty miles from the place where she was born; whose very name, so far +as they could gather, exemplified her life. + +What secret menace had threatened this "staid person," this prosperous +shipper of sherry who, apparently, had spent the evening of his life in +observing the habits of wrens. + +Why should his gentle wife have thus commemorated his fighting spirit? + +Be the reason what it might, Jan felt vaguely comforted. There was +triumph as well as trust in the words. Whatever it was that had +threatened him, he had stood up to it. His wife knew this and was proud. + +Jan tried the heavy oak door and it yielded, and from the soft mildness +of the spring evening, so full of happy sounds of innocent life, she +passed into the grey and sacred silence of the church. + +It was cold in the beautiful old fourteenth-century church, with that +pervading smell of badly-burning wood that is so often found in country +churches till all attempt at heating ceases for the summer. But nothing +could mar the nobility of its austerely lovely architecture; the +indefinable, exquisite grace that soothes and penetrates. + +She went and knelt in the Wren's End pew where Charles Considine Smith's +vast prayer-book still stood on the book-board. And even as in the +Bombay Cathedral she had prayed that strength might be given to her to +walk in the Way, so now she prayed for courage and a quiet, steadfast +mind. + +Her head was bowed and buried in her hands: "_My heart shall not +fear_," she whispered; but she knew that it did fear, and fear +grievously. + +The tense silence was broken by an odd, fitful, pattering sound; but +Jan, absorbed in her petition for the courage she could not feel, heard +nothing. + +Something clumsy, warm, and panting pushed against her, and she +uncovered her face and looked down upon William trying to thrust his +head under her arm and join in her devotions. + +And William became a misty blur, for her eyes filled with tears; he +looked so anxious and foolish and kind with his tongue hanging out and +his absurd, puzzled expression. + +He was puzzled. Part of the usual ritual had been omitted. + +She ought, by all known precedents, to have put her arm round his neck +and have admonished him to "pray for his Master." But she did nothing of +the kind, only patted him, with no sort of invitation to join in her +orisons. + +William was sure something was wrong somewhere. + +Then Jan saw Tony sitting at the far end of the seat, hatless, coatless, +in his indoor strap shoes; and he was regarding her with grave, +understanding eyes. + +In a moment she was back in the present and vividly alive to the fact +that here was chilly, delicate Tony out after tea, without a coat and +sitting in an ice-cold church. + +She rose from her knees, much to William's satisfaction, who did not +care for religious services in which he might not take an active part. +He trotted out of the pew and Jan followed him, stooping to kiss Tony as +she passed. + +"It's too cold for you here, dear," she whispered; "let us come out." + +She held out her hand and Tony took it, and together they passed down +the aisle and into the warmer air outside. + +"How did you know I was here?" she asked, as they hurried into the road. + +"I saw you going down the drive from the bathroom window, and so I +runned after you, and William came too." + +"But what made you come after me?" + +"Because I thought you looked frightened, and I didn't like it; you +looked like Mummy did sometimes." + +No one who has seen fear stamped upon a woman's face ever forgets it. +Tony had watched his aunt all tea-time, and this quite new expression +troubled him. Mummy had always seemed to want him when she looked like +that; perhaps Auntie Jan would want him too. The moment his hands were +dried he had rushed past Meg and down the stairs with William in his +wake. Meg had not tried to stop him, for she, too, realised that +something worried Jan, and she knew that already there had arisen an +almost unconscious _entente_ between these two. But she had no idea that +he had gone out of doors. She dressed little Fay and took her out to the +garden, thinking that Tony and Jan were probably in the nursery, and she +was careful not to disturb them. + +"Are you cold, Tony?" Jan asked anxiously, walking so fast that Tony +had almost to run to keep up with her. + +"No, not very; it's a nice coldness rather, don't you think?" + +"Tony, will you tell me--when Daddie was angry with you, were you never +frightened?" + +Tony pulled at her hand to make her go more slowly. "Yes," he said, "I +used to feel frightened inside, but I wouldn't let him know it, and +then--it was funny--but quite sunn'ly I wasn't frightened any more. You +try it." + +"You mean," Jan asked earnestly, "that if you don't let anyone else know +you are frightened, you cease to be frightened?" + +"Something like that," Tony said; "it just happens." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +MEG AND CAPTAIN MIDDLETON + + +Meg had worked hard and faithfully ever since Ayah left. Very soon after +she took over the children entirely she discovered that, however naughty +and tiresome they were in many respects, they were quick-witted and +easily interested. And she decided there and then that to keep them good +she must keep them well amused, and it acted like a charm. + +She had the somewhat rare power of surrounding quite ordinary everyday +proceedings with a halo of romance, so that the children's day developed +into a series of entrancing adventures. + +With Meg, enthusiastic make-believe had never wholly given place to +common sense. Throughout the long, hard days of her childhood and early +apprenticeship to a rather unkindly world she had pretended joyously, +and invented for herself all sorts of imaginary pleasures to take the +place of those tangible ones denied to her. She had kept the width and +wistfulness of the child's horizon with a good deal of the child's +finality and love of detail; so that she was as responsive to the drama +of common things as the children themselves. + +Thus it came about that the daily donning of the uniform was in very +truth symbolic and inspiring; and once the muslin cap was adjusted, she +felt herself magically surrounded by the atmosphere most conducive to +the production of the Perfect Nurse. + +For Tony and little Fay getting up and going to bed resolved themselves +into feats of delicious dexterity that custom could not stale. The +underneaths of tables were caves and dungeons, chairs became chariots at +will, and every night little Fay waved a diminutive pocket-handkerchief +to Tony from the deck of an ocean-going P. and O. + +The daily walks, especially since they came to Wren's End, were filled +with hopeful possibilities. And to hunt for eggs with Mrs. Earley, or +gather vegetables with her son, partook of the nature of a high and +solemn quest. It was here Meg showed real genius. She drew all the +household into her net of interest. The children poked their busy +fingers into everybody's pies, and even stern Hannah was compelled, +quite unconsciously, to contribute her share in the opulent happiness of +their little world. + +But it took it out of Meg. + +For weeks she had been on the alert to prevent storms and tempests. Now +that the children's barometer seemed at "set fair" she suddenly felt +very tired. + +Jan had been watching her, and on that particular Sunday, had she been +able to catch Meg before she got up, Jan would have dressed the children +and kept her in bed. But Meg was too nimble for her, washed and dressed +her charges, and appeared at breakfast looking a "wispy wraith." + +She had slept badly; a habit formed in her under-nourished youth which +she found hard to break; and she had, in consequence, been sitting up in +bed at five in the morning to make buttonholes in garden smocks for +Tony. + +This would have enraged Jan had she but known it. But Meg, frank and +honest as the day in most things, was, at times, curiously secretive; +and so far had entirely eluded Jan's vigilance. By the time Anne Chitt +came with the awakening tea there wasn't a vestige of smock, needles, or +cotton to be seen, and so far lynx-eyed little Fay had never awoke in +time to catch her at it. + +This morning, however, Jan exerted her authority. She slung the hammock +between two trees in the sunniest part of the garden; she wrapped Meg in +her own fur coat, which was far too big for Meg; covered her with a +particularly soft, warm rug, gave her a book, a sun-umbrella, and her +cigarette case; and forbade her to move till lunch-time unless it +rained. + +Then she took the two children and William into Squire Walcote's woods +for the morning and Meg fell fast asleep. + +Warm with the double glow that came from being wrapped in Jan's coat +because Jan loved her; lulled by the songs of birds and a soft, shy wind +that ruffled the short hair about her forehead, little Meg was supremely +happy. To be tired, to be made to rest, to be kissed and tucked in and +sternly commanded to stay where she was till she was fetched--all this, +so commonplace to cherished, cared-for folk, seemed quite wonderful to +Meg, and she snuggled down among the cushions in blissful content. + +Meanwhile, on that same Sunday morning, Captain Middleton, at Amber +Guiting Manor, was trying to screw his courage up to the announcement +that he did not intend to accompany his aunt and uncle to church. Lady +Mary Walcote was his mother's only sister, and Mrs. Walcote, wife of +Jan's tenant, was one of his father's, so that he spoke quite truly when +he told Meg he had "stacks of relations down at Amber Guiting." + +Colonel Walcote was much better off than his elder brother, the squire +of Amber Guiting, for he benefited by the Middleton money. + +Miles Middleton's father was the originator of "Middleton's Made +Starch," which was used everywhere and was supposed to be superior to +all other starches. Why "Made" scoffers could never understand, for it +required precisely the same treatment as other starches. But the British +Public believed in it, the British Public also bought it in large +quantities, and George Middleton, son of Mutton-Pie Middleton, a +well-to-do confectioner in Doncaster, became an exceedingly rich man. He +did not marry till he was forty, and then he married "family," for Lady +Agnes Keills, younger daughter of Lord Glencarse, had a long pedigree +and no dower at all. She was a good wife to him, gentle, upright, and +always affectionate. She adored their only child, Miles, and died quite +suddenly from heart failure, just after that cheerful youth had joined +at Woolwich. George Middleton died some three years later, leaving his +money absolutely to his son, who came of age at twenty-five. And, so +far, Miles had justified his father's faith in him, for he had never +done anything very foolish, and a certain strain of Yorkshire shrewdness +prevented him from committing any wild extravagance. + +He was generous, kindly, and keen on his profession, and he had reached +the age of thirty-two without ever having felt any overwhelming desire +to marry; though it was pretty well known that considerable efforts to +marry him suitably had been made by both mothers and daughters. + +The beautiful and level-headed young ladies of musical comedy had failed +to land this considerable fish, angled they never so skilfully; though +he frankly enjoyed their amusing society and was quite liberal, though +not lavish, in the way of presents. + +Young women of his own rank were pleasant to him, their mothers cordial, +and no difficulty was ever put in the way of his enjoying their society. +But he was not very susceptible. Deep in his heart, in some dim, +unacknowledged corner, there lay a humble, homely desire that he might +_feel_ a great deal more strongly than he had felt yet, when the time +and the woman came to him. + +Never, until Meg smiled at him when he offered to carry little Fay up +that long staircase, had the thought of a girl thoroughly obsessed him; +and it is possible that even after their meetings in Kensington Gardens +her image might gradually have faded from his mind, had it not occurred +to Mrs. Trent to interfere. + +He had seen a good deal of the Trents while hunting with the Pytchley +two winters ago. Lotty was a fearless rider and what men called "a real +good sort." At one time it had sometimes crossed Captain Middleton's +mind that Lotty wouldn't make half a bad wife for a Horse Gunner, but +somehow it had always stopped at the idea, and when he didn't see Lotty +he never thought about her at all. + +Now that he no longer saw Meg he thought about her all day and far into +the night. His sensations were so new, so disturbing and unpleasant, his +life was so disorganised and upset, that he asked himself in varying +degrees of ever-accumulating irritation: "What the deuce was the +matter?" + +Then Mrs. Trent asked him to luncheon. + +She was staying with her daughters at the Kensington Palace Hotel, and +they had a suite of rooms. Lotty and her sister flew away before coffee +was served, as they were going to a _matinée_, and Miles was left +_tête-à-tête_ with Mrs. Trent. + +She was most motherly and kind. + +Just as he was wondering whether he might now decently take leave of +her, she said: "Captain Middleton, I'm going to take a great liberty and +venture to say something to you that perhaps you will resent ... but I +feel I must do it because your mother was such a dear friend of mine." + +This was a piece of information for Miles, who knew perfectly well that +Lady Agnes Middleton's acquaintance with Mrs. Trent had been of the +slightest. However, he bowed and looked expectant. + +"I saw you the other day walking with Miss Morton in Kensington Gardens; +apparently she is now in charge of somebody's children. May I ask if you +have known her long?" + +Mrs. Trent looked searchingly at Miles, and there was an inflection on +the "long" that he felt was in some way insulting to Meg, and he +stiffened all over. + +"Before I answer that question, Mrs. Trent, may I ask why you should +want to know?" + +"My dear boy, I see perfectly well that it must seem impertinent +curiosity on my part. But I assure you my motive for asking is quite +justifiable. Will you try not to feel irritated and believe that what I +am doing, I am doing for the best?" + +"I have not known Miss Morton very long; why?" + +"Do you know the people she is living with at present?" + +Again that curious inflection on the "present." + +"Oh, yes, and so do my people; they think all the world of her." + +"Of Miss Morton?" Shocked astonishment was in Mrs. Trent's voice. + +"I was not speaking of Miss Morton just then, but of the lady she is +with. I've no doubt, though," said Miles stoutly, "they'd think just +the same of Miss Morton if they knew her. They may know her, too; it's +just a chance we've never discussed her." + +"It is very difficult and painful for me to say what I have got to say +... but if Miss Morton is in charge of the children of a friend of your +family, I think you ought to know she is not a suitable person to be +anything of the kind." + +"I say!" Miles exclaimed, "that's a pretty stiff thing to say about any +girl; a dangerous thing to say; especially about one who seems to need +to earn her own living." + +"I know it is; I hate to say it ... but it seemed to me the other day--I +hope I was mistaken--that you were rather ... attracted, and knowing +what I do I felt I must speak, must warn you." + +Miles got up. He seemed to tower above the table and dwarf the whole +room. "I'd rather not hear any more, Mrs. Trent, please. It seems too +beastly mean somehow for me to sit here and listen to scandal about a +poor little unprotected girl who works hard and faithfully--mind you, +I've seen her with those children, and she's perfectly wonderful. Don't +you see yourself how I can't _do_ it?" + +Mrs. Trent sat on where she was and smiled at Miles, slowly shaking her +head. "Sit down, my dear boy. Your feelings do you credit; but we +mustn't be sentimental, and facts are facts. I have every reason to know +what I'm talking about, for some years ago Miss Morton was in my +service." + +Miles did not sit down. He stood where he was, glowering down at Mrs. +Trent. + +"That doesn't brand her, does it?" he asked. + +Still smiling maternally at him, Mrs. Trent continued: "She left my +service when she ran away with Mr. Walter Brooke--you know him, I think? +Disgraceful though it was, I must say this of him, that he never made +any concealment of the fact that he was a married man. She did it with +her eyes open." + +"If," Miles growled, "all this happened 'some years ago' she must have +been about twelve at the time, and Brooke ought to have been hounded out +of society long ago." + +"I needn't say that _we_ have cut him ever since. She was, I believe, +about nineteen at the time. She did not remain with him, but you can +understand that, naturally, I don't want _you_ to get entangled with a +girl of that sort." + +Miles picked up his hat and stick. "I wish you hadn't told me," he +groaned. "I don't think a bit less highly of her, but you've made _me_ +feel such a low-down brute, I can't bear it. Good-bye--I've no doubt you +did it for the best ... but----" And Miles fairly ran from the room. + +Mrs. Trent drummed with her fingers on the table and looked thoughtful. +"It was quite time somebody interfered," she reflected. And then she +remembered with annoyance that she had not found out the name of Meg's +employer. + +Miles strode through Kensington Gore and past Knightsbridge, when he +turned down Sloane Street till he came to a fencing school he +frequented. Here he went in and had a strenuous half-hour with the +instructor, but nothing served to restore his peace of mind. He was +angry and hurt and horribly worried. If it was true, if the whole +miserable story was true, then he knew that something had been taken +from him. Something he had cherished in that dim, secret corner of his +heart. Its truth or untruth did not affect his feeling for Meg. But if +it were true, then he had irretrievably lost something intangible, yet +precious. Young men like Miles never mention ideals, but that's not to +say that in some very hidden place they don't exist, like buried +treasure. + +All the shrewd Yorkshire strain in him shouted that he must set this +doubt at rest. That whatever was to be his action in the future he must +know and face the truth. All the delicacy, the fine feeling, the +sensitiveness he got from his mother, made him loathe any investigation +of the kind, and his racial instincts battled together and made him very +miserable indeed. + +When he left the fencing school, he turned into Hyde Park. The Row was +beginning to fill, and suddenly he came upon his second cousin, Lady +Penelope Pottinger, sitting all alone on a green chair with another +empty one beside it. Miles dropped into the empty chair. He liked Lady +Pen. She was always downright and sometimes very amusing. Moreover she +took an intelligent interest in dogs, and knew Amber Guiting and its +inhabitants. So Miles dexterously led the conversation round to Jan and +Wren's End. + +Lady Pen was looking very beautiful that afternoon. She wore a +broad-leaved hat which did not wholly conceal her glorious hair. Hair +the same colour as certain short feathery rings that framed a pale, +pathetic little face that haunted him. + +"Talking of Amber Guiting," he said, "did you ever come across a Miss +Morton down there? A friend of Miss Ross." + +Lady Pen turned and looked hard at him. "Oh dear, yes; she's rather a +pal of mine. I knew her long before I met her at the Ross's. Why, I knew +her when she was companion at the Trents, poor little devil." + +"Did she have a bad time there? Weren't they nice to her?" + +"At first they were nice enough, but afterwards it was rotten. Clever +little thing she is, but poor as a rat. What do you know about her?" + +Again Lady Pen looked hard at Miles. She was wondering whether Meg had +ever given away the reason for that short hair of hers. + +"Oh, I've met her just casually, you know, with Miss Ross. She strikes +me as a ... rather unusual sort of girl." + +"Ever mention me?" + +"No, never that I can remember. I haven't seen much of her, you know." + +"Well, my son, the less you see of her the better, for her, I should +say. She's a clever, industrious, good little thing, but she's not in +your row. After all, these workin' girls have their feelin's." + +"I don't fancy Miss Morton is at all the susceptible idiot you appear +to think her. It's other people's feelings I should be afraid of, not +hers." + +"Oh, I grant you she's attractive enough to some folks. Artists, for +instance, rave over her. At least, Anthony Ross did. Queer chap, that; +would never paint me. Now can you understand any man in his senses +refusin' to paint me?" + +"It seems odd, certainly." + +"He painted her, for nothin' of course, over an' over again ... just +because he liked doin' it. Odd chap he was, but very takin'. You +couldn't dislike him, even when he refused to paint you. Awful swank +though, wasn't it?" + +"Were his pictures of Miss Morton--sold?" + +"Some were, I believe; but Janet Ross has got a lot of 'em down at +Wren's End. She always puts away most of her father's paintin's when she +lets the house. But you take my advice, Miley, my son: you keep clear of +that little girl." + +This was on Thursday, and, of course, after two warnings in one +afternoon, Miles went down to Amber Guiting on Saturday night. + +"Aunt Mary, it's such a lovely morning, should you mind very much if I +go for a stroll in the woods--or slack about in the fresh air, instead +of going to church?" + +At the word "stroll" he had seen an interested expression lighten up +Squire Walcote's face, and the last thing he wanted was his uncle's +society for the whole morning. + +"I don't feel up to much exercise," Miles went on, trying to look +exhausted and failing egregiously. "I've had rather a hard week in town. +I'll give the vicar a turn in the evening, I will truly." + +Lady Mary smiled indulgently on this large young man, who certainly +looked far from delicate. But only a hard-hearted woman could have +pointed this out at such a moment, and where her nephew was concerned +Lady Mary's heart was all kindly affection. So she let him off church. + +Miles carried out a pile of books to a seat in the garden and appeared +to be settled down to a studious morning. He waved a languid hand to his +aunt and uncle as they started for church, and the moment they were out +of sight laid down his book and clasped his hands behind his head. + +The vicar of Amber Guiting was a family man and merciful. The school +children all creaked and pattered out of church after morning prayer, +and any other small people in the congregation were encouraged to do +likewise, the well-filled vicarage pew setting the example. Therefore, +Miles reckoned, that even supposing Miss Morton took the little boy to +church (he couldn't conceive of anyone having the temerity to escort +little Fay thither), they would come out in about three-quarters of an +hour after the bell stopped. But he had no intention of waiting for +that. The moment the bell ceased he--unaccompanied by any of the dogs +grouped about him at that moment--was going to investigate the Wren's +End garden. He knew every corner of it, and he intended to unearth Meg +and the children if they were to be found. + +Besides, he ardently desired to see William. + +William was a lawful pretext. No one could see anything odd in his +calling at Wren's End to see William. It was a perfectly natural thing +to do. + +Confound Mrs. Trent. + +Confound Pen, what did she want to interfere for? + +Confound that bell. Would it never stop? + +Yes it had. No it hadn't. Yes ... it had. + +Give a few more minutes for laggards, and then---- + +Three melancholy and disappointed dogs were left in the Manor Garden, +while Miles swung down the drive, past the church, and into the road +that led to Wren's End. + +What a morning it was! + +The whole world seemed to have put on its Sunday frock. There had been +rain in the night, and the air was full of the delicious fresh-washed +smell of spring herbage. Wren's End seemed wonderfully quiet and +deserted as Miles turned into the drive. As he neared the house he +paused and listened, but there was no sound of high little voices +anywhere. + +Were they at church, then? + +They couldn't be indoors on such a beautiful day. + +Miles whistled softly, knowing that if William were anywhere within +hearing, that would bring him at the double. + +But no joyfully galumphing William appeared to welcome him. + +He had no intention of ringing to inquire. No, he'd take a good look +round first, before he went back to hang about outside the church. + +It was pleasant in the Wren's End garden. + +Presently he went down the broad central path of the walled garden, with +borders of flowers and beds of vegetables. Half-way down, in the +sunniest, warmest place, he came upon a hammock slung between an +apple-tree not quite out and a pear-tree that was nearly over, and a +voice from the hammock called sleepily: "Is that you, Earley? I wish +you'd pick up my cigarette case for me; it's fallen into the lavender +bush just below." + +"Yes, Miss," a voice answered that was certainly not Earley's. + +Meg leaned out of the hammock to look behind her. + +"Hullo!" she said. "Why are you not in church? I can't get up because +I'm a prisoner on _parole_. Short of a thunderstorm nothing is to move +me from this hammock till Miss Ross comes back." + +Miles stood in the pathway looking down at the muffled figure in the +hammock. There was little to be seen of Meg save her rumpled, hatless +head. She was much too economical of her precious caps to waste one in a +hammock. She had slept for nearly two hours, then Hannah roused her with +a cup of soup. She was drowsy and warm and comfortable, and her usually +pale cheeks were almost as pink as the apple-blossom buds above her +head. + +"Do you want to sleep? Or may I stop and talk to you a bit?" Miles +asked, when he had found the somewhat battered cigarette case and +restored it to her. + +"As I'm very plainly off duty, I suppose you may stay and talk--if I +fall asleep in the middle you must not be offended. You'll find plenty +of chairs in the tool house." + +When Miles returned Meg had lit her cigarette, and he begged a light +from her. + +What little hands she had! How fine-grained and delicate her skin! + +Again he felt that queer lump in his throat at the absurd, sweet pathos +of her. + +He placed his chair where he had her full in view, not too near, yet +comfortably so for conversation. Jan had swung the hammock very high, +and Meg looked down at Miles over the edge. + +"It is unusual," she said, "to find a competent nurse spending her +morning in this fashion, but if you know Miss Ross at all, you will +already have realised that under her placid exterior she has a will of +iron." + +"I shouldn't say _you_ were lacking in determination." + +"Oh, I'm nothing to Jan. _She_ exerts physical force. Look at me perched +up here! How can I get down without a bad fall, swathed like a mummy in +wraps; while my employer does my work?" + +"But you don't want to get down. You look awfully comfortable." + +"I am awfully comfortable--but it's most ... unprofessional--please +don't tell anybody else." + +Meg closed her eyes, looking rather like a sleepy kitten, and Miles +watched her in silence with a pain at his heart. Something kept saying +over and over again: "Six years ago that girl there ran off with Walter +Brooke. Six years ago that apparently level-headed, sensible little +person was dazzled by the pinchbeck graces of that epicure in +sensations." Miles fully granted his charm, his gentle melancholy, his +caressing manner; but with it all Miles felt that he was so plainly "a +wrong-'un," so clearly second-rate and untrustworthy--and a nice girl +ought to recognise these things intuitively. + +Miles looked very sad and grave, and Meg, suddenly opening her eyes, +found him regarding her with this incomprehensible expression. + +"You are not exactly talkative," she said. + +"I thought, perhaps, you wanted to rest, and would rather not talk. +Maybe I'm a bit of a bore, and you'd rather I went away?" + +"You have not yet asked after William." + +"I hoped to find William, but he's nowhere to be seen." + +"He's with Jan and the children. I think"--here Meg lifted her curly +head over the edge of the hammock--"he is the very darlingest animal in +the world. I love William." + +"You do! I knew you would." + +"I do. He's so faithful and kind and understanding." + +"Has he been quite good?" + +"Well ... once or twice he may have been a little--destructive--but you +expect that with children." + +"I hope you punish him." + +"Jan does. Jan has a most effectual slap, but there's always a dreadful +disturbance with the children on these occasions. Little Fay roars the +house down when William has to be chastised." + +"What has he done?" + +"I'm not going to tell tales of William." + +Miles and Meg smiled at one another, and Walter Brooke faded from his +mind. + +"Perhaps," he said, and paused, "you will by and by allow to William's +late master a small portion of that regard?" + +"If William's master on further acquaintance proves half as loyal and +trustworthy as William--I couldn't help it." + +"I wonder what you mean exactly by loyal and trustworthy?" + +"They're not very elastic terms, are they?" + +"Don't you think they mean rather the same thing?" + +"Not a bit," Meg cried eagerly; "a person might be ever so trustworthy +and yet not loyal. I take it that trustworthy and honest in tangible +things are much the same. Loyalty is something intangible, and often +means belief in people when everything seems against them. It's a much +rarer quality than to be trustworthy. William would stick to one if one +hadn't a crust, just because he liked to be there to make things a bit +less wretched." + +Miles smoked in silence for a minute, and again Meg closed her eyes. + +"By the way," he said presently, "I didn't know you and my cousin Pen +were friends. I met her in the Park the day before yesterday. Her hair's +rather the same colour as yours--handsome woman, isn't she?" + +Meg opened her eyes and turned crimson. Had the outspoken Lady Pen said +anything about her hair, she wondered. + +Miles, noting the sudden blush, put it down to Lady Pen's knowledge of +what had happened at the Trents, and the miserable feelings of doubt and +apprehension came surging back. + +"She's quite lovely," said Meg. + +"A bit too much on the big side, don't you think?" + +"I admire big women." + +Silence fell again. Meg pulled the rug up under her chin. + +Surely it was not quite so warm as a few minutes ago. + +Miles stood up. "I have a guilty feeling that Miss Ross will strongly +disapprove of my disturbing you like this. If you will tell me which way +they have gone I will go and meet them." + +"They've gone to your uncle's woods, and I think they must be on their +way home by now. If you call William he'll answer." + +"I won't say good-bye," said Miles, "because I shall come back with +them." + +"I shall be on duty then," said Meg. "Good-bye." + +She turned her face from him and nestled down among her cushions. For a +full minute he stood staring at the back of her head, with its crushed +and tumbled tangle of short curls. + +Then quite silently he took his way out of the Wren's End garden. + +Meg shut her eyes very tight. Was it the light that made them smart so? + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE YOUNG IDEA + + +Squire Walcote had given the Wren's End family the run of his woods, +and, what was even more precious, permission to use the river-path +through his grounds. Lady Mary, who had no children of her own, was +immensely interested in Tony and little Fay, and would give Jan more +advice as to their management in an hour than the vicar's wife ever +offered during the whole of their acquaintance. But then _she_ had a +family of eight. + +But the first time Tony went to the river Jan took him alone; and not to +the near water in Squire Walcote's grounds, but to the old bridge that +crossed the Amber some way out of the village. It was the typical +Cotswold bridge, with low parapets that make such a comfortable seat for +meditative villagers. Just before they reached it she loosed Tony's +hand, and held her breath to see what he would do. Would he run straight +across to get to the other side, or would he look over? + +Yes. He went straight to the low wall; stopped, looked over, leaned +over, and stared and stared. + +Jan gave a sigh of relief. + +The water of the Amber just there is deep and clear, an infinite thing +for a child to look down into; but it was not of that Jan was thinking. + +Hugo was no fisherman. Water had no attraction for him, save as a +pleasant means of taking exercise. He was a fair oar; but for a stream +that wouldn't float a boat he cared nothing at all. + +Charles Considine Smith had angled diligently. In fact, he wrote almost +as much about the habits of trout as about wrens. James Ross, the +gallant who carried off the second Tranquil, had been fishing at Amber +Guiting when he first saw her. Anthony's father fished and so did +Anthony; and Jan, herself, could throw a fly quite prettily. Yet, your +true fisherman is born, not made; it is not a question of environment, +but it is, very often, one of heredity; for the tendency comes out when, +apparently, every adverse circumstance has combined to crush it. + +And no mortal who cares for or is going to care for fishing can ever +cross a bridge without stopping to look down into the water. + +"There's a fish swimming down there," Tony whispered (was it instinct +made him whisper? Jan wondered), "brown and speckledy, rather like the +thrushes in the garden." + +Jan clutched nervously at the little coat while Tony hung over so far +that only his toes were on the ground. She had brought a bit of bread in +her pocket, and let him throw bits to the greedy, wily old trout who had +defied a hundred skilful rods. On that first day old Amber whispered her +secret to Tony and secured another slave. + +For Jan it was only another proof that Tony possessed a sterling +character. Since her sister's disastrous marriage she had come to look +upon a taste for fishing as more or less of a moral safeguard. She had +often reflected that if only Fay had not been so lukewarm with regard to +the gentle craft--and so bored in a heavenly place where, if it did rain +for twenty-three of the twenty-four hours, even a second-rate rod might +land fourteen or fifteen pounds of good sea-trout in an afternoon--she +could never have fallen in love with Hugo Tancred, who was equally +without enthusiasm and equally bored till he met Fay. Jan was ready +enough now to blame herself for her absorption at this time, and would +remember guiltily the relief with which she and her father greeted Fay's +sudden willingness to remain a week longer in a place she previously had +declared to be absolutely unendurable. + +The first time Tony's sister went to Amber Bridge Meg took them both. +Little Fay descended from her pram just before they reached it, +declaring it was a "nice dly place to walk." She ran on a little ahead, +and before Meg realised what she was doing, she had scrambled up on to +the top of the low wall and run briskly along it till her progress was +stopped by a man who was leaning over immersed in thought. He nearly +fell in himself, when a clear little voice inquired, "Do loo mind if I +climb over loo?" + +It was Farmer Burgess, and he clasped the tripping lady of the white +woolly gaiters in a pair of strong arms, and lifted her down just as the +terrified Meg reached them. + +"Law, Missie!" gasped Mr. Burgess, "you mustn't do the like o' that +there. It's downright fool'ardy." + +"Downlight foolardy," echoed little Fay. "And what nelse?" + +According to Mr. Burgess it was dangerous and a great many other things +as well, but he lost his heart to her in that moment, and she could +twist him round her little finger ever after. + +To be told that a thing was dangerous was to add to its attractions. She +was absolutely without fear, and could climb like a kitten. She hadn't +been at Wren's End a week before she was discovered half-way up the +staircase on the outside of the banisters. And when she had been caught +and lifted over by a white-faced aunt, explained that it was "muts the +most instasting way of going up tairs." + +When asked how she expected to get to the other side at the top, she +giggled derisively and said "ovel." + +Jan seriously considered a barbed-wire entanglement for the outside edge +of her staircase after that. + +While Meg rested in the hammock Jan spent a strenuous morning in Guiting +Woods with the children and William. Late windflowers were still in +bloom, and early bluebells made lovely atmospheric patches under the +trees, just as though a bit of the sky had fallen, as in the oft-told +tale of "Cockie Lockie." There were primroses, too, and white violets, +so that there were many little bunches with exceedingly short stalks to +be arranged and tied up with the worsted provident Auntie Jan had +brought with her; finally they all sat down on a rug lined with +mackintosh, and little Fay demanded "Clipture." + +"Clipture" was her form of "Scripture," which Auntie Jan "told" every +morning after breakfast to the children. Jan was a satisfactory +narrator, for the form of her stories never varied. The Bible stories +she told in the actual Bible words, and all children appreciate their +dramatic simplicity and directness. + +That morning Joseph and his early adventures and the baby Moses were the +favourites, and when these had been followed by "The Three Bears" and +"Cock Robin," it was time to collect the bouquets and go home. And on +the way home they met Captain Middleton. William spied him afar off, and +dashed towards him with joyful, deep-toned barks. He was delighted to +see William, said he had grown and was in the pink of condition; and +then announced that he had already been to Wren's End and had seen Miss +Morton. There was something in the tone of this avowal that made Jan +think. It was shy, it was proud, it seemed to challenge Jan to find any +fault in his having done so, and it was supremely self-conscious. He +walked back with them to the Wren's End gate, and then came a moment of +trial for William. + +He wanted to go with his master. + +He wanted to stay with the children. + +Captain Middleton settled it by shaking each offered paw and saying very +seriously: "You must stay and take care of the ladies, William. I trust +you." William looked wistfully after the tall figure that went down the +road with the queer, light, jumpetty tread of all men who ride much. + +Then he trotted after Jan and the children and was exuberantly glad to +see Meg again. + +She declared herself quite rested; heard that they had seen Captain +Middleton, and met unmoved the statement that he was coming to tea. + +But she didn't look nearly so well rested as Jan had hoped she would. + +After the children's dinner Meg went on duty, and Jan saw no more of the +nursery party till later in the afternoon. The creaking wheels of two +small wheelbarrows made Jan look up from the letters she was writing at +the knee-hole table that stood in the nursery window, and she beheld +little Fay and Tony, followed by Meg knitting busily, as they came +through the yew archway on to the lawn. + +Meg subsided into one of the white seats, but the children processed +solemnly round, pausing under Jan's window. + +"I know lots an' lots of Clipture," her niece's voice proclaimed proudly +as she sat down heavily in her wheelbarrow on the top of some garden +produce she had collected. + +"How much do you know?" Tony asked sceptically. + +"Oh, lots an' lots, all about poor little Jophez in the bullushes, and +his instasting dleams." + +"Twasn't Jophez," Tony corrected. "It was Mophez in the bulrushes, and +he didn't have no dreams. That was Jophez." + +"How d'you know," Fay persisted, "that poor little Mophez had no dleams? +Why _shouldn't_ he have dleams same as Jophez?" + +"It doesn't say so." + +"It doesn't say he _didn't_ have dleams. He _had_ dleams, I tell you; I +know he had. Muts nicer dleams van Jophez." + +"Let's ask Meg; she'll know." + +Jan gave a sigh of relief. The children had not noticed her, and Meg had +a fertile mind. + +The wheelbarrows were trundled across the lawn and paused in front of +Meg, while a lively duet demanded simultaneously: + + {"_Did_ little Mophez have dleams?" + {"_Didn't_ deah littoo Mophez have dleams?" + +When Meg had disentangled the questions and each child sat down in a +wheelbarrow at her feet, she remarked judicially: "Well, there's nothing +said about little Moses' dreams, certainly; but I should think it's +quite likely the poor baby did have dreams." + +"What sort of dleams? Nicer van sheaves and sings, wasn't they?" + +"I should think," Meg said thoughtfully, "that he dreamed he must cry +very quietly lest the Egyptians should hear him." + +"Deah littoo Mophez ... and what nelse?" + +Meg was tempted and fell. It was very easy for her to invent "dleams" +for "deah littoo Mophez" lying in his bulrush ark among the flags at the +river's edge. And, wholly regardless of geography, she transported him +to the Amber, where the flags were almost in bloom at that moment, such +local colour adding much to the realism of her stories. + +Presently William grew restless. He ran to Anthony's Venetian gate in +the yew hedge and squealed (William never whined) to get out. Tony let +him out, and he fled down the drive to meet his master, who had come a +good half-hour too soon for tea. + +Jan continued to try and finish her letters while Captain Middleton, +coatless, on all-fours, enacted an elephant which the children rode in +turn. When he had completely ruined the knees of his trousers he arose +and declared it was time to play "Here we go round the mulberry-bush," +and it so happened that once or twice he played it hand-in-hand with +Meg. + +Jan left her letters and went out. + +The situation puzzled her. She feared for Meg's peace of mind, for +Captain Middleton was undoubtedly attractive; and then she found herself +fearing for his. + +After tea and more games with the children Captain Middleton escorted +his hostess to church, where he joined his aunt in the Manor seat. + +During church Jan found herself wondering uneasily: + +"Was everybody going to fall in love with Meg?" + +"Would Peter?" + +"What a disagreeable idea!" + +And yet, why should it be? + +Resolutely she told herself that Peter was at perfect liberty to fall +in love with Meg if he liked, and set herself to listen intelligently to +the Vicar's sermon. + + * * * * * + +Meg started to put her children to bed, only to find that her fertility +of imagination in the afternoon was to prove her undoing in the evening; +for her memory was by no means as reliable as her powers of invention. + +Little Fay urgently demanded the whole cycle of little Mophez' dleams +over again. And for the life of her Meg couldn't remember them either in +their proper substance or sequence--and this in spite of the most +persistent prompting, and she failed utterly to reproduce the +entertainment of the afternoon. Both children were disappointed, but +little Fay, accustomed as she was to Auntie Jan's undeviating method of +narrating "Clipture," was angry as well. She fell into a passion of rage +and nearly screamed the house down. Since the night of Ayah's departure +there had not been such a scene. + +Poor Meg vowed (though she knew she would break her vow the very first +time she was tempted) that never again would she tamper with Holy Writ, +and for some weeks she coldly avoided both Jophez and Mophez as topics +of conversation. + +Meg could never resist playing at things, and what "Clipture" the +children learned from Jan in the morning they insisted on enacting with +Meg later in the day. + +Sometimes she was seized with misgiving as to the propriety of these +representations, but dismissed her doubts as cowardly. + +"After all," she explained to Jan, "we only play the very human bits. I +never let them pretend to be anybody divine ... and you know the +people--in the Old Testament, anyway--were most of them extremely human, +not to say disreputable at times." + +It is possible that "Clipture's" supreme attraction for the children was +that it conveyed the atmosphere of the familiar East. The New Testament +was more difficult to play at, but, being equally dramatic, the children +couldn't see it. + +"Can't we do one teeny miracle?" Tony would beseech, but Meg was firm; +she would have nothing to do with either miracles nor yet with angels. +Little Fay ardently desired to be an angel, but Meg wouldn't have it at +any price. + +"You're not in the least _like_ an angel, you know," she said severely. + +"What for?" + +"Because angels are _perfectly_ good." + +"I could _pletend_ to be puffectly good." + +"Let's play Johnny Baptist," suggested the ever-helpful Tony, "and we +could pittend to bring in his head on a charger." + +"Certainly not," Meg said hastily. "That would be a horrid game." + +"Let me be the daughter!" little Fay implored, "and dance in flont of +Helod." + +This was permitted, and Tony, decorated with William's chain, sat +gloomily scowling at the gyrations of "the daughter," who, assisted by +William, danced all over the nursery: and Meg, watching the +representation, decided that if the original "daughter" was half as +bewitching as this one, there really might have been some faint excuse +for Herod. + +Hannah had no idea of these goings-on, or she would have expected the +roof to fall in and crush them. Yet she, too, was included among the +children's prophets, owing to her exact and thorough knowledge of +"Clipture." Hannah's favourite part of the Bible was the Book of Daniel, +which she knew practically by heart; and her rendering of certain +chapters was--though she would have hotly resented the phrase--extremely +dramatic. + +It is so safe and satisfying to know that your favourite story will run +smoothly, clause for clause, and word for word, just as you like it +best, and the children were always sure of this with Hannah. + +Anne Chitt would listen open-mouthed in astonishment, exclaiming +afterwards, "Why, 'Annah, wot a tremenjous lot of Bible verses you 'ave +learned to be sure." + +The children once tried Anne Chitt as a storyteller, but she was a +failure. + +As she had been present at several of Hannah's recitals of the Three +Children and the burning fiery furnace, they thought it but a modest +demand upon her powers. But when--instead of beginning with the sonorous +"_Then an herald cried aloud, To you it is commanded, O people, nations +and languages_"--when she wholly omitted any reference to "_the sound of +cornet, flute, harp, sackbut, psaltery, and dulcimer_, and all kinds of +musick"--and essayed to tell the story in broad Gloucestershire and her +own bald words, the disappointed children fell upon her and thumped her +rudely upon the back; declaring her story to be "_kutcha_" and she, +herself, a _budmash_. Which, being interpreted, meant that her story was +most badly made and that she, herself, was a rascal. + +Anne Chitt was much offended, and complained tearfully to Jan that she +"wouldn't 'ave said nothin' if they'd called 'er or'nery names, but them +there Injian words was more than she could abear." + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +"ONE WAY OF LOVE" + + +Among the neighbours there was none more assiduous in the matter of +calls and other friendly manifestations than Mr. Huntly +Withells--emphasis on the "ells"--who lived at Guiting Grange, about a +couple of miles from Wren's End. Mr. Withells was settled at the Grange +some years before Miss Janet Ross left her house to Jan, and he was +already a person of importance and influence in that part of the county +when Anthony Ross and his daughters first spent a whole summer there. + +Mr. Withells proved most neighbourly. He had artistic leanings himself, +and possessed some good pictures; among them, one of Anthony's, which +naturally proved a bond of union. He did not even so much as sketch, +himself--which Anthony considered another point in his favour--but he +was a really skilled photographer, possessed the most elaborate cameras, +and obtained quite beautiful results. + +Since Jan's return from India he had completely won her heart by taking +a great many photographs of the children, pictures delightfully natural, +and finished as few amateurs contrive to present them. + +It was rumoured in Amber Guiting that Mr. Withells' views on the +subject of matrimony were "peculiar"; but all the ladies, especially the +elderly ladies, were unanimous in declaring that he had a "beautiful +mind." + +Mrs. Fream, the vicar's wife, timidly confided to Jan that Mr. Withells +had told her husband that he cared only for "spiritual marriage"-- +whatever that might be; and that, as yet, he had met no woman whom he +felt would see eye to eye with him on this question. "He doesn't approve +of caresses," she added. + +"Well, who wants to caress him?" Jan asked bluntly. + +Meg declared there was one thing she could not bear about Mr. Withells, +and that was the way he shook hands, "exactly as if he had no thumbs. If +he's so afraid of touching one as all that comes to, why doesn't he let +it alone?" + +Yet the apparently thumbless hands were constantly occupied in bearing +gifts of all kinds to his friends. + +In appearance he was dapper, smallish, without being undersized, always +immaculately neat in his attire, with a clean-shaven, serious, rather +sallow face, which was inclined to be chubby as to the cheeks. He wore +double-sighted pince-nez, and no mortal had ever seen him without them. +His favourite writer was Miss Jane Austen, and he deplored the +licentious tendency of so much modern literature; frequently, and with +flushed countenance, denouncing certain books as an "outrage." He was +considered a very well-read man. He disliked anything that was "not +quite nice," and detested a strong light, whether it were thrown upon +life or landscape; in bright sunshine he always carried a white umbrella +lined with green. The game he played best was croquet, and here he was +really first class; but he was also skilled in every known form of +Patience, and played each evening unless he happened to be dining out. + +As regards food he was something of a faddist, and on the subject of +fresh air almost a monomaniac. He declared that he could not exist for +ten minutes in a room with closed windows, and that the smell of apples +made him feel positively faint; moreover, he would mention his somewhat +numerous antipathies as though there were something peculiarly +meritorious in possessing so many. This made his entertainment at any +meal a matter of agitated consideration among the ladies of Amber +Guiting. + +Nevertheless, he kept an excellent and hospitable table himself, and in +no way forced his own taste upon others. He disliked the smell of +tobacco and hardly ever drank wine, yet he kept a stock of excellent +cigars and his cellar was beyond reproach. + +He had been observing Jan for several years, and was rapidly coming to +the conclusion that she was an "eminently sensible woman." Her grey hair +and the way she had managed everything for her father led him to believe +that she was many years older than her real age. Recently he had taken +to come to Wren's End on one pretext and another almost every day. He +was kind and pleasant to the children, who amused and pleased +him--especially little Fay; but he was much puzzled by Meg, whom he had +known in pre-cap-and-apron days while she was staying at Wren's End. + +He couldn't quite place Meg, and there was an occasional glint in her +queer eyes that he found disconcerting. He was never comfortable in her +society, for he objected to red hair almost as strongly as to a smell of +apples. + +He really liked the children, and since he knew he couldn't get Jan +without them he was beginning to think that in such a big house as the +Grange they would not necessarily be much in the way. He knew nothing +whatever about Hugo Tancred. + +Jan satisfied his fastidious requirements. She was dignified, graceful, +and, he considered, of admirable parts. He felt that in a very little +while he could imbue Jan with his own views as to the limitations and +delicate demarcations of such a marriage as he contemplated. + +She was so sensible. + +Meanwhile the object of these kind intentions was wholly unaware of +them. She was just then very much absorbed in her own affairs and +considerably worried about Meg's. For Captain Middleton's week-end was +repeated on the following Saturday and extended far into the next week. +He came constantly to Wren's End, where the children positively adored +him, and he seemed to possess an infallible instinct which led him to +the village whensoever Meg and her charges had business there. + +On such occasions Meg was often quite rude to Captain Middleton, but the +children and William more than atoned for her coldness by the warmth of +their welcome, and he attached himself to them. + +In fact, as regards the nursery party at Wren's End, Miles strongly +resembled William before a fire--you might drive him away ninety and +nine times, he always came thrusting back with the same expression of +deprecating astonishment that you could be other than delighted to see +him. + +Whither was it all tending? Jan wondered. + +No further news had come from Hugo; Peter, she supposed, had sailed and +was due in London at the end of the week. + +Then Mr. Huntly Withells asked her one afternoon to bicycle over to see +his spring irises--he called them "_irides_," and invariably spoke of +"_croci_," and "_delphinia_"--and as Meg was taking the children to tea +at the vicarage, Jan went. + +To her surprise, she found herself the sole guest, but supposed she was +rather early and that his other friends hadn't come yet. + +They strolled about the gardens, so lovely in their spring blossoming, +and it happened that from one particular place they got a specially good +view of the house. + +"How much larger it is than you would think, looking at the front," Jan +remarked. "You don't see that wing at all from the drive." + +"There's plenty of room for nephews and nieces," Mr. Withells said +jocularly. + +"Have you many nephews and nieces?" she asked, turning to look at him, +for there was something in the tone of his voice that she could not +understand. + +"Not of my own," he replied, still in that queer, unnatural voice, "but +you see my wife might have ... if I was married." + +"Are you thinking of getting married?" she asked, with the real interest +such a subject always rouses in woman. + +"That depends," Mr. Withells said consciously, "on whether the lady I +have in mind ... er ... shall we sit down, Miss Ross? It's rather hot in +the walks." + +"Oh, not yet," Jan exclaimed. She couldn't think why, but she began to +feel uncomfortable. "I must see those Darwin tulips over there." + +"It's very sunny over there," he objected. "Come down the nut-walk and +see the _myosotis arvensis_; it is already in bloom, the weather has +been so warm. + +"Miss Ross," Mr. Withells continued seriously, as they turned into the +nut-walk which led back towards the house, "we have known each other for +a considerable time...." + +"We have," said Jan, as he had paused, evidently expecting a reply. + +"And I have come to have a great regard for you...." + +Again he paused, and Jan found herself silently whispering, "Curtsy +while you're thinking--it saves time," but she preserved an outward +silence. + +"You are, if I may say so, the most sensible woman of my acquaintance." + +"Thank you," said Jan, but without enthusiasm. + +"We are neither of us quite young"--(Mr. Withells was forty-nine, but it +was a little hard on Jan)--"and I feel sure that you, for instance, +would not expect or desire from a husband those constant outward +demonstrations of affection such as handclaspings and kisses, which are +so foolish and insanitary." + +Jan turned extremely red and walked rather faster. + +"Do not misunderstand me, Miss Ross," Mr. Withells continued, looking +with real admiration at her downcast, rosy face--she must be quite +healthy he thought, to look so clean and fresh always--"I lay down no +hard-and-fast rules. I do not say should my wife desire to kiss me +sometimes, that I should ... repulse her." + +Jan gasped. + +"But I have the greatest objection, both on sanitary and moral grounds +to----" + +"I can't imagine anyone _wanting_ to kiss you," Jan interrupted +furiously; "you're far too puffy and stippled." + +And she ran from him as though an angry bull were after her. + +Mr. Withells stood stock-still where he was, in pained astonishment. + +He saw the fleeing fair one disappear into the distance and in the +shortest time on record he heard the clanging of her bicycle bell as she +scorched down his drive. + +"Puffy and stippled"--"Puffy and stippled"! + +Mr. Withells repeated to himself this rudely personal remark as he +walked slowly towards the house. + +What could she mean? + +And what in the world had he said to make her so angry? + +Women were really most unaccountable. + +He ascended his handsome staircase and went into his dressing-room, and +there he sought his looking-glass, which stood in the window, and +surveyed himself critically. Yes, his cheeks _were_ a bit puffy near the +nostrils, and, as is generally the case in later life, the pores of the +skin were a bit enlarged, but for all that he was quite a personable +man. + +He sighed. Miss Ross, he feared, was not nearly so sensible as he had +thought. + +It was distinctly disappointing. + + * * * * * + +For the first mile and a quarter Jan scorched all she knew. The angry +blood was thumping in her ears and she exclaimed indignantly at +intervals, "How dared he! How dared he!" + +Then she punctured a tyre. + +There was no hope of getting it mended till she reached Wren's End, when +Earley would do it for her. As she pushed her bicycle along the lane she +recovered her sense of humour and she laughed. And presently she became +aware of a faint, sweet, elusive perfume from some flowering shrub on +the other side of somebody's garden wall. + +It strongly resembled the smell of a blossoming tree that grew on Ridge +Road, Malabar Hill. And in one second Jan was in Bombay, and was +standing in the moonlight, looking up into a face that was neither puffy +nor stippled nor prim; but young and thin and worn and very kind. And +the exquisite understanding of that moment came back to her, and her +eyes filled with tears. + +Yet in another moment she was again demanding indignantly, "How dared +he!" + +She went straight to her room when she got in, and, like Mr. Withells, +she went and looked at herself in the glass. + +Unlike Mr. Withells, she saw nothing there to give her any satisfaction. +She shook her head at the person in the glass and said aloud: + +"If that's all you get by trying to be sensible, the sooner you become a +drivelling idiot the better for your peace of mind--and your vanity." + +The person in the glass shook her head back at Jan, and Jan turned away +thoroughly disgusted with such a futile sort of _tu quoque_. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +ANOTHER WAY OF LOVE + + +Meg and the children, returning from their tea-party at the vicarage, +were stopped continually in their journey through the main street by +friendly folk who wanted to greet the children. It was quite a triumphal +progress, and Meg was feeling particularly proud that afternoon, for her +charges, including William, had all behaved beautifully. Little Fay had +refrained from snatching other children's belongings with the cool +remark, "Plitty little Fay would like 'at"; Tony had been quite merry +and approachable; and William had offered paws and submitted to +continual pullings, pushings and draggings with exemplary patience. + +Once through the friendly, dignified old street, they reached the main +road, which was bordered by rough grass sloping to a ditch surmounted by +a thick thorn hedge. They were rather late, and Meg was wheeling little +Fay as fast as she could, Tony trotting beside her to keep up, when a +motor horn was sounded behind them and a large car came along at a good +speed. They were all well to the side of the road, but William--with the +perverse stupidity of the young dog--above all, of the young +bull-terrier--chose that precise moment to gambol aimlessly right into +the path of the swiftly-coming motor, just as it seemed right upon him; +and this, regardless of terrified shouts from Meg and the children, +frantic sounding of the horn and violent language from the driver of the +car. + +It seemed that destruction must inevitably overtake William when the car +swerved violently as the man ran it down the sloping bank, where it +stuck, leaving William, unscathed and rather alarmed by all the clamour, +to run back to his family. + +Meg promptly whacked him as hard as she could, whereupon, much +surprised, he turned over on his back, waving four paws feebly in the +air. + +"Why don't you keep your dog at the side?" the man shouted with very +natural irritation as he descended from his seat. + +"He's a naughty--stupid--puppy," Meg ejaculated between the whacks. "It +wasn't your fault in the least, and it was awfully good of you to avoid +him."--Whack--whack. + +The man started a little as she spoke and came across the road towards +them. + +Meg raised a flushed face from her castigation of William, but the +pretty colour faded quickly when she saw who the stranger was. + +"Meg!" he exclaimed. "_You!_" + +For a tense moment they stared at one another, while the children stared +at the stranger. He was certainly a handsome man; melancholy, +"interesting." Pale, with regular features and sleepy, smallish eyes set +very near together. + +"If you knew how I have searched for you," he said. + +His voice was his great charm, and would have made his fortune on the +stage. It could convey so much, could be so tender and beseeching, so +charged with deepest sadness, so musical always. + +"Your search cannot have been very arduous," Meg answered drily. "There +has never been any mystery about my movements." And she looked him +straight in the face. + +"At first, I was afraid ... I did not try to find you." + +"You were well-advised." + +"Who is 'at sahib?" little Fay interrupted impatiently. "Let us go +home." She had no use for any sahib who ignored her presence. + +"Yes, we'd better be getting on," Meg said hurriedly, and seized the +handle of the pram. + +But he stood right in their path. + +"You were very cruel," the musical voice went on. "You never seemed to +give a thought to all _I_ was suffering." + +Meg met the sleepy eyes, that used to thrill her very soul, with a look +of scornful amusement in hers that was certainly the very last +expression he had ever expected to see in them. + +She had always dreaded this moment. + +Realising the power this man had exercised over her, she always feared +that should she meet him again the old glamour would surround him; the +old domination be reasserted. She forgot that in five years one's +standards change. + +Now that she did meet him she discovered that he held no bonds with +which to bind her. That what she had dreaded was a chimera. The real +Walter Brooke, the moment he appeared in the flesh, destroyed the image +memory had set up; and Meg straightened her slender shoulders as though +a heavy burden had dropped from them. + +The whole thing passed like a flash. + +"You were very cruel," he repeated. + +"There is no use going into all that," Meg answered in a cheerful, +matter-of-fact tone. "Good-bye, Mr. Brooke. We are most grateful to you +for not running over William, who is," here she raised her voice for the +benefit of the culprit, "a naughty--tiresome dog." + +"But you can't leave me like this. When can I see you again--there is so +much I want to explain...." + +"But I don't want any explanations, thank you. Come children, we _must_ +go." + +"Meg, listen ... surely you have some little feeling of kindness towards +me ... after all that happened...." + +He put his hand on Meg's arm to detain her, and William, who had never +been known to show enmity to human creature, gave a deep growl and +bristled. A growl so ominous and threatening that Meg hastily loosed the +pram and caught him by the collar with both hands. + +Tony saw that Meg was flustered and uncomfortable. "Why does he not go?" +he asked. "I thought he was a sahib, but I suppose he is the +gharri-wallah. We have thanked him--does he want backsheesh? Give him a +rupee." + +"He _does_ want backsheesh," the deep, musical voice went on--"a little +pity, a little common kindness." + +It was an embarrassing situation. William was straining at his collar +and growling like an incipient thunderstorm. + +"We have thanked you," Tony said again with dignity. "We have no money, +or we would reward you. If you like to call at the house, Auntie Jan +always has money." + +The man smiled pleasantly at Tony. + +"Thank you, young man. You have told me exactly what I wanted to know. +So you are with your friends?" + +"I can't hold this dog much longer," Meg gasped. "If you don't +go--you'll get bitten." + +William ceased to growl, for far down the road he had heard a footstep +that he knew. He still strained at his collar, but it was in a direction +that led away from Mr. Walter Brooke. Meg let go and William swung off +down the road. + +"Shall we all have a lide in loo ghalli?" little Fay asked--it seemed to +her sheer waste of time to stand arguing in the road when a good car was +waiting empty. The children called every form of conveyance a "gharri." + +"We shall meet again," said this persistent man. "You can't put me off +like this." + +He raised his voice, for he was angry, and its clear tones carried far +down the quiet road. + +"There's Captain Middleton with William," Tony said suddenly. "Perhaps +_he_ has some money." + +Meg paled and crimsoned, and with hands that trembled started to push +the pram at a great pace. + +The man went back to his car, and Tony, regardless of Meg's call to him, +ran to meet William and Miles. + +The back wheels of the car had sunk deeply into the soft wet turf. It +refused to budge. Miles came up. He was long-sighted, and he had seen +very well who it was that was talking to Meg in the road. He had also +heard Mr. Brooke's last remark. + +Till lately he had only known Walter Brooke enough to dislike him +vaguely. Since his interview with Mrs. Trent this feeling had +intensified to such an extent as surprised himself. At the present +moment he was seething with rage, but all the same he went and helped to +get the car up the bank, jacking it up, and setting his great shoulders +against it to start it again. + +All this Tony watched with deepest interest, and Meg waited, fuming, a +little way down the road, for she knew it was hopeless to get Tony to +come till the car had once started. Once on the hard road again, it +bowled swiftly away and to her immense relief passed her without +stopping. + +She saw that Miles was bringing Tony, and started on again with little +Fay. + +Fury was in her heart at Tony's disobedience, and behind it all a dull +ache that Miles should have heard, and doubtless misunderstood, Walter +Brooke's last remark. + +Tony was talking eagerly as he followed, but she was too upset to listen +till suddenly she heard Miles say in a tone of the deepest satisfaction, +"Good old William." + +This was too much. + +She stopped and called over her shoulder: "He isn't good at all; he's a +thoroughly tiresome, disobedient, badly-trained dog." + +They came up with her at that, and William rolled over on his back, for +he knew those tones portended further punishment. + +"He's an ass in lots of ways," Miles allowed, "but he is an excellent +judge of character." + +And as if in proof of this William righted himself and came cringing to +Meg to try and lick the hand that a few minutes ago had thumped him so +vigorously. + +Meg looked up at Miles and he looked down at her, and his gaze was +pained, kind and grave. _His_ eyes were large and well-opened and set +wide apart in his broad face. Honest, trustworthy eyes they were. + +Very gently he took the little pram from her, for he saw that her hands +were trembling: "You've had a fright," he said. "I know what it is. I +had a favourite dog run over once. It's horrible, it takes months to get +over it. I can't think why dogs are so stupid about motors ... must have +been a near shave that ... very decent of Brooke--he's taken pounds off +his car with that wrench." + +While Miles talked he didn't look at Meg. + +"I say, little Fay," he suddenly suggested, "wouldn't you like to walk a +bit?" and he lifted her out. "There, that's better. Now, Miss Morton, +you sit down a minute; you've had a shake, you know. I'll go on with the +kiddies." + +Meg was feeling a horrible, humiliating desire to cry. Her eyes were +bright with unshed tears, her knees refused to bear her. Thankfully she +sat down on the foot-board of Fay's little pram. The tall figure between +the two little ones suddenly grew blurred and dim. Furtively she blew +her nose and wiped her eyes. They were not a stone's throw from the +lodge at Wren's End. + +How absurd to be sitting there! + +And yet she didn't feel inclined to move just yet. + +"'Ere, my dear, you take a sip o' water; the gentleman's told me all +about it. Them sort o' shocks fair turns one over." + +And kind Mrs. Earley was beside her, holding out a thick tumbler. Meg +drank the deliciously cold water and arose refreshed. + +And somehow the homely comfort of Mrs. Earley's presence made her +realise wherein lay the essential difference between these two men. + +"He still treats me like a princess," she thought, "even though he +thinks ... Oh, what _can_ he think?" and Meg gave a little sob. + +"There, there!" said Mrs. Earley, "don't you take on no more, Miss. The +dear dog bain't 'urted not a 'air of him. 'E cum frolicking in that +friendly--I sometimes wonders if there do be anyone as William 'ud ever +bite. 'E ain't much of a watchdog, I fear." + +"He nearly bit someone this afternoon," Meg said. + +"Well, I'm not sorry to yer it. It don't do for man nor beast to be too +trustful--not in this world it don't." + +At the drive gate Miles was standing. + +Mrs. Earley took the pram with her for Earley to clean, and Meg and +Miles walked on together. + +"I'm sorry you've had this upset," he said. "I've talked to William like +a father." + +"It wasn't only William," Meg murmured. + +They were close to the house, and she stopped. + +"Good night, Captain Middleton. I must go and put my children to bed; +we're late." + +"I don't want to seem interfering, Miss Morton, but don't you let anyone +bully you into picking up an acquaintance you'd rather drop." + +"I suppose," said Meg, "one always has to pay for the things one has +done." + +"Well, yes, sooner or later; but it's silly to pay Jew prices." + +"Ah," said Meg, "you've never been poor enough to go to the Jews, so you +can't tell." + + * * * * * + +Miles walked slowly back to Amber Guiting that warm May evening. He had +a good deal to think over, for he had come to a momentous decision. When +he thought of Meg as he had just seen her--small and tremulous and +tearful--he clenched his big hands and made a sound in his throat not +unlike William's growl. When he pictured her angry onslaught upon +William, he laughed. But the outcome of his reflections was this--that +whether in the past she had really done anything that put her in Walter +Brooke's power, or whether he was right to trust to that intangible +quality in her that seemed to give the direct lie to the worst of Mrs. +Trent's story, Meg appeared to him to stand in need of some hefty chap +as a buffer between her and the hard world, and he was very desirous of +being that same for Meg. + +His grandfather, "Mutton-Pie Middleton," had married one of his own +waitresses for no other reason than that he found she was "the lass for +him"--and he might, so the Doncaster folk thought, have looked a good +deal higher for a wife, for he was a "warm" man at the time. Miles +strongly resembled his grandfather. He was somewhat ruefully aware that +in appearance there was but little of the Keills about him. He could +just remember the colossal old man who must have weighed over twenty +stone in his old age, and Miles, hitherto, had refused to buy a motor +for his own use because he knew that if he was to keep his figure he +must walk, and walk a lot. + +Like his grandfather, he was now perfectly sure of himself; Meg "was the +lass for him"; but he was by no means equally sure of her. By some +infallible delicacy of instinct--and this he certainly did not get from +the Middletons--he knew that what the world would regard as a +magnificent match for Meg, might be the very circumstance that would +destroy his chance with her. The Middletons were all keenly alive to the +purchasing powers of money, and saw to it that they got their money's +worth. + +All the same, a man's a man, whether he be rich or poor, and Miles still +remembered the way Meg had smiled upon him the first time they ever met. +Surely she could never have smiled at him like that unless she had +rather liked him. + +It was the pathos of Meg herself--not the fact that she had to +work--that appealed to Miles. That she should cheerfully earn her own +living instead of grousing in idleness in a meagre home seemed to him +merely a matter of common sense. He knew that if he had to do it he +could earn his, and the one thing he could neither tolerate nor +understand about a good many of his Keills relations was their +preference for any form of assistance to honest work. He helped them +generously enough, but in his heart of hearts he despised them, though +he did not confess this even to himself. + +As he drew near the Manor House he saw Lady Mary walking up and down +outside, evidently waiting for him. + +"Where have you been, Miles?" she asked, impatiently. "Pen has been +here, and wanted specially to see you, but she couldn't stay any longer, +as it's such a long run back. She motored over from Malmesbury." + +"What did she want?" Miles asked. "She's always in a stew about +something. One of her Pekinese got pip, or what?" + +Lady Mary took his arm and turned to walk along the terrace. "I think," +she said, and stopped. "Where _were_ you, Miles?" + +"I strolled down the village to get some tobacco, and then I saw a chap +who'd got his motor stuck, and helped him, and then ..." Here Miles +looked down at his aunt, who looked up at him apprehensively. "I caught +up with Miss Morton and the children, and walked back to Wren's End with +them. There, Aunt Mary, that's a categorical history of my time since +tea." + +Lady Mary pressed his arm. "Miles, dear, do you think it's quite wise to +be seen about so much with little Miss Morton ... wise for her I mean?" + +"I hope I'm not the sort of chap it's bad to be seen about with...." + +"Of course not, dear Miles, but, you see, her position...." + +"What's the matter with her position?" + +"Of course I know it's most creditable of her and all that ... but ... +when a girl has to go out as a sort of nursery governess, it is +different, isn't it, dear? I mean...." + +"Yes, Aunt Mary, I'm awfully interested--different from what?" + +"From girls who lead the sheltered life, girls who don't work ... girls +of our own class." + +"I don't know," Miles said thoughtfully, "that I should say Pen, for +instance, lives exactly a _sheltered_ life, should you?" + +"Pen is married." + +"Yes, but before she was married ... eh, Aunt Mary? Be truthful, now." + +Miles held his aunt's arm tightly within his, and he stooped and looked +into her face. + +"And does the fact that Pen is married explain or excuse her deplorable +taste in men? Which does it do, Aunt Mary? Speak up, now." + +Lady Mary laughed. "I'm not here to defend Pen; I'm here to get your +answer as to whether you think it's ... quite fair to make that little +Miss Morton conspicuous by running after her and making her the talk of +the entire county, for that's what you're doing." + +"What good old Pen has been telling you I'm doing, I suppose." + +"I had my own doubts about it without any help from Pen ... but she said +Alec Pottinger had been talking...." + +"Pottinger's an ass." + +"He doesn't talk _much_, anyhow, Miles, and she felt if _he_ said +anything...." + +"Look here, Aunt Mary, how's a chap to go courting seriously if he +doesn't run after a girl?... he can't work it from a distance ... not +unless he's one of those poet chaps, and puts letters in hollow trees +and so on. And you don't seem to have provided any hollow trees about +here." + +"Courting ... seriously!" Lady Mary repeated with real horror in her +tones. "Oh, Miles, you can't mean that!" + +"Surely you'd not prefer I meant the other thing?" + +"But, Miles dear, think!" + +"I have thought, and I've thought it out." + +"You mean you want to _marry_ her?" + +Lady Mary spoke in an awed whisper. + +"Just exactly that, and I don't care who knows it; but I'm not at all +sure she wants to marry me ... that's why I don't want to rush my fences +and get turned down. I'm a heavy chap to risk a fall, Aunt Mary." + +"Oh, Miles! this is worse than anything Pen even dreamt of." + +"What is? If you mean that she probably won't have me--I'm with you." + +"Of course she'd jump at you--any girl would.... But a little +nursemaid!" + +"Come now, Aunt Mary, you know very well she's just as good as I am; +better, probably, for she's got no pies nor starch in her pedigree. Her +father's a Major and her mother was of quite good family--and she's got +lots of rich, stingy relations ... and she doesn't sponge on 'em. What's +the matter with her?" + +"Please don't do anything in a hurry, dear Miles." + +"I shan't, if you and Pen and the blessed 'county,' with its criticism +and gossip, don't drive me into it ... but the very first word you +either say or repeat to me against Miss Morton, off I go to her and to +the old Major.... So now we understand each other, Aunt Mary--eh?" + +"There are things you ought to know, Miles." + +"You may depend," said Miles grimly, "that anything I ought to know I +shall be told ... over and over again ... confound it.... And remember, +Aunt Mary, that what I've told you is not in the least private. Tell +Pen, tell Mrs. Fream, tell Withells, but just leave me to tell Miss +Ross, that's all I beg." + +"Miles, I shall tell nobody, for I hope ... I hope----" + +"'Hope told a flattering tale,'" said Miles, and kissed his aunt ... but +to himself he said: "I've shut their mouths for a day or two anyway." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +THE ENCAMPMENT + + +It was the morning of the first Monday in June, and Tony had wandered +out into the garden all by himself. Monday mornings were very busy, and +once Clipture was over Jan and Meg became socially useless to any +self-respecting boy. + +There was all the washing to sort and divide into two large heaps: what +might be sent to Mrs. Chitt in the village, and what might be kept for +the ministrations of one Mrs. Mumford, who came every Monday to Wren's +End. And this division was never arrived at without a good deal of +argument between Jan and Meg. + +If Jan had had her way, Mrs. Mumford's heap would have been very small +indeed, and would have consisted chiefly of socks and handkerchiefs. If +Meg had had hers, nothing at all would have gone to Mrs. Chitt. Usually, +too, Hannah was called in as final arbitrator, and she generally sided +with Meg. Little Fay took the greatest interest in the whole ceremony, +chattered continually, and industriously mixed up the heaps when no one +was looking. + +At such times Tony was of the opinion that there were far too many women +in the world. On this particular morning, too, he felt injured because +of something that had happened at breakfast. + +It was always a joy to Meg and Jan that whatever poor Fay might have +left undone in the matter of disciplining her children, she had at least +taught them to eat nicely. Little Fay's management of a spoon was a joy +to watch. The dimpled baby hand was so deft, the turn of the plump wrist +so sure and purposeful. She never spilled or slopped her food about. Its +journey from bowl to little red mouth was calculated and assured. Both +children had a horror of anything sticky, and would refuse jam unless it +was "well covelled in a sangwidge." + +That very morning Jan and Meg exchanged congratulatory glances over +their well-behaved charges, sitting side by side. + +Then, all at once, with a swift, sure movement, little Fay stretched up +and deposited a spoonful of exceedingly hot porridge exactly on the top +of her brother's head, with a smart tap. + +Tony's hair was always short, and had been cut on Saturday, and the hot +mixture ran down into his eyes, which filled him with rage. + +He tried to get out of his high chair, exclaiming angrily, "Let me get +at her to box her!" + +Jan held him down with one hand while she wiped away the offending mess +with the other, and all the time Tony cried in _crescendo_, "Let me get +at her!" + +Little Fay, quite unmoved, continued to eat her porridge with studied +elegance, and in gently reproachful tones remarked, "Tony velly closs +littoo boy." + +Jan and Meg, who wanted desperately to laugh, tried hard to look +shocked, and Meg asked, "What on earth possessed you to do such a +thing?" + +"Tony's head so shiny and smoove." + +Tony rubbed the shiny head ruefully. + +"Can't I do nuffin to her?" he demanded. + +"No," his sister answered firmly, "loo can't, 'cos I'm plitty littoo +Fay." + +"Can't I plop some on _her_ head?" he persisted. + +"It certainly seems unfair," Jan said thoughtfully, "but I think you'd +better not." + +"It _is_ unfair," Tony grumbled. + +Jan loosed his hands. "Now," she said, "you can do what you like." + +Little Fay leaned towards her brother, smiling her irresistible, +dimpled, twinkling smile, and held out a spoonful of her porridge. + +"Deah littoo Tony," she cooed, "taste it." + +And Tony meekly accepted the peace-offering. + +"You haven't smacked her," Jan remarked. + +Tony sighed. "It's too late now--I don't feel like it any more." + +All the same he felt aggrieved as he set out to seek Earley in the +kitchen garden. + +Earley was not to be found. He saw Mrs. Mumford already hanging kitchen +cloths on a line in the orchard, but he felt no desire for Mrs. +Mumford's society. + +Tony's tormented soul sought for something soothing. + +The garden was pleasant, but it wasn't enough. + +Ah! he'd got it! + +He'd go to the river; all by himself he'd go, and not tell anybody. He'd +look over the bridge into that cool deep pool and perhaps that big fat +trout would be swimming about. What was it he had heard Captain +Middleton say last time he was down at Amber Guiting? "The Mayfly was +up." + +He had seemed quite delighted about it, therefore it must mean something +pleasant. + +After all, on a soft, not too sunny morning in early June, with a west +wind rustling the leaves in the hedges, the world was not such a bad +place; for even if there were rather too many women in it, there were +dogs and rivers and country roads where adventurous boys could see life +for themselves. + +William agreed with Tony in his dislike of Monday mornings. He went and +lay on the front door mat so that he was more than ready to accompany +anyone who happened to be going out. + +By the time they reached the bridge all sense of injury had vanished, +and buoyant expectation had taken its place. + +Three men were fishing. One was far in the distance, one about three +hundred yards up stream, and one Tony recognised as Mr. Dauncey, +landlord of "The Full Basket," the square white house standing in its +neat garden just on the other side of the bridge. The fourth gentleman, +who had forgotten his hat, and was clad in a holland smock, sandals, +and no stockings, leaned over luxuriously, with his elbows on the low +wall and his bare legs thrust out. He was very still, even trying not to +twitch when William licked his bare legs, as he did at intervals just to +show he was there on guard. + +There had been heavy rain in the night and the water was discoloured. +Nobody noticed Tony, and for about an hour nothing happened. Then Mr. +Dauncey got a rise. The rigid little figure on the bridge leaned further +over as Mr. Dauncey's reel screamed and he followed his cast down +stream. + +Presently, with a sense of irritation, Tony was aware of footsteps +coming over the bridge. He felt that he simply could not bear it just +then if anyone leaned over beside him and talked. The footsteps came up +behind him and passed; and William, who was lying between Tony's legs +and the wall, squeezed as close to him as possible, gave a low growl. + +"Hush, William, naughty dog!" Tony whispered crossly. + +William hushed, and drooped as he always did when rebuked. + +It occurred to Tony to look after this amazing person who could cross a +bridge without stopping to look over when a reel was joyfully +proclaiming that some fisherman was having luck. + +It was a man, and he walked as though he were footsore and tired. There +was something dejected and shabby in his appearance, and his clothes +looked odd somehow in Amber Guiting. Tony stared after the stranger, +and gradually he realised that there was something familiar in the back +of the tall figure that walked so slowly and yet seemed trying to walk +fast. + +The man had a stick and evidently leant upon it as he went. He wore an +overcoat and carried nothing in his hand. + +Mr. Dauncey's reel chuckled and one of the other anglers ran towards him +with a landing-net. + +But Tony still stared after the man. Presently, with a deep sigh, he +started to follow him. + +Just once he turned, in time to see that Mr. Dauncey had landed his +trout. + +The sun came out from behind the clouds. "The Full Basket," the river, +brown and rippled, the bridge, the two men talking eagerly on the bank +below, the muddy road growing cream-coloured in patches as it dried, +were all photographed upon Tony's mind. When he started to follow the +stranger he was out of sight, but now Tony trotted steadily forward and +did not look round again. + +William was glad. He had been lying in a puddle, and, like little Fay, +he preferred "a dly place." + +Meanwhile, at Wren's End the washing had taken a long time to count and +to divide. There seemed a positively endless number of little smocks and +frocks and petticoats and pinafores, and Meg wanted to keep them all for +Mrs. Mumford to wash, declaring that she (Meg) could starch and iron +them beautifully. This was quite true. She could iron very well, as she +did everything she undertook to do. But Jan knew that it tired her +dreadfully, that the heat and the wielding of the heavy iron were very +bad for her, and after much argument and many insulting remarks from Meg +as to Jan's obstinacy and extravagance generally, the things were +divided. Meg put on little Fay's hat and swept her out into the garden; +whereupon Jan plunged into Mrs. Mumford's heap, removed all the things +to be ironed that could not be tackled by Anne Chitt, stuffed them into +Mrs. Chitt's basket, fastened it firmly and rang for Anne and Hannah to +carry the things away. + +She washed her hands and put on her gardening gloves preparatory to +going out, humming a gay little snatch of song; and as she ran down the +wide staircase she heard the bell ring, and saw the figure of a man +standing in the open doorway. + +The maids were carrying the linen down the back stairs, and she went +across the hall to see what he wanted. + +"Well, Jan," he said, and his voice sounded weak and tired. "Here I am +at last." + +He held out his hand, and as she took it she felt how hot and dry it +was. + +"Come in, Hugo," she said quietly. "Why didn't you let me know you were +coming, and I'd have met you." + +The man followed her as she led the way into the cool, fragrant +drawing-room. He paused in the doorway and passed his hand across his +eyes. "It does bring it all back," he said. + +He sat down in a deep chair and leaned his head against the back, +closing his eyes. Jan saw that he was thin to emaciation, and that he +looked very ill; shabby, too, and broken. + +The instinct of the nurse that exists in any woman worth her salt was +roused in Jan. All the passionate indignation she had felt against her +brother-in-law was merged at the moment in pity and anxiety. + +"Hugo," she said gently, "I fear you are ill. Have you had any +breakfast?" + +"I came by the early train to avoid ordering breakfast; I couldn't have +paid for it. I'd only enough for my fare. Jan, I haven't a single rupee +left." + +He sat forward in the chair with his hands on the arms and closed his +eyes again. + +Jan looked keenly at the handsome, haggard face. There was no pretence +here. The man was gravely ill. His lips (Jan had always mistrusted his +well-shaped mouth because it would never really shut) were dry and +cracked and discoloured, the cheekbones sharp, and there was that deep +hollow at the back of the neck that always betrays the man in +ill-health. + +She went to him and pressed him back in the chair. + +"What do you generally do when you have fever?" she asked. + +"Go to bed--if there is a bed; and take quinine and drink hot tea." + +"That's what you'd better do now. Where are your things?" + +"There's a small bag at the station. They promised to send it up. I +couldn't carry it and I had no money to pay a boy. I came the long way +round, Jan, not through the village. No one recognised me." + +"I'll get you some tea at once, and I have quinine in the house. Will +you take some now?" + +Hugo laughed. "Your quinine would be of no earthly use to me, but I've +already taken it this morning. I've got some here in my pocket. The +minute my bag comes I'll go to bed--if you don't mind." + +Someone fumbled at the handle of the door, and Tony, followed by +William, appeared on the threshold. + +Hugo Tancred opened his eyes. "Hullo!" he said. "Do you remember me, +young shaver?" + +Tony came into the room holding out his hand. "How do you do?" he said +solemnly. + +Hugo took it and stared at his son with strange glazed eyes. "You look +fit enough, anyhow," he said, and dropped the little hand. + +"I came as quick as I could," Tony said eagerly to Jan. "But Mr. Dauncey +caught a trout, and I _had_ to wait a minute." + +"Good heavens!" Hugo exclaimed irritably. "Do you all _still_ think and +talk about nothing but fishing?" + +"Come," said Jan, holding out her hand to Tony, "and we'll go and see +about some breakfast for Daddie." + +William, who had been sniffing dubiously at the man in the chair, dashed +after them. + +As they crossed the hall Tony remarked philosophically: "Daddie's got +fever. He'll be very cross, then he'll be very sad, and then he'll want +you to give him something, and if you do--p'raps he'll go away." + +Jan made no answer. + +Tony followed her through the swing door and down the passage to speak +to Hannah, who was much moved and excited when she heard Mr. Tancred had +arrived. Hannah was full of sympathy for the "poor young widower," and +though she could have wished that he had given them notice of his +coming, still, she supposed him to be so distracted with grief that he +forgot to do anything of the kind. She and Anne Chitt went there and +then to make up his bed, while Jan boiled the kettle and got him some +breakfast. + +While she was doing this Meg and little Fay came round to the back to +look for Tony, whom they found making toast. + +"Who's tum?" asked little Fay, while Jan rapidly explained the situation +to Meg. + +"Your Daddie's come." + +Little Fay looked rather vague. "What sort of a Daddie?" she asked. + +"You take her to see him, Tony, and I'll finish the toast," said Jan, +taking the fork out of his hand. + +When the children had gone Meg said slowly: "And Mr. Ledgard comes +to-morrow?" + +"He can't. I must telegraph and put him off for a day or two. Hugo is +really ill." + +"I shouldn't put him off long, if I were you." + +Jan seized the tray: "I'll send a wire now, if you and the children will +take it down to the post-office for me." + +"Why send it at all?" said Meg. "Let him come." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +TACTICS + + +It was a fortnight since Hugo Tancred arrived at Wren's End, and Jan had +twice put off Peter's visit. + +During the first few days Hugo's temperature remained so high that she +grew thoroughly alarmed; and in spite of his protestations that he was +"quite used to it," she sent for the doctor. Happily the doctor in his +youth had been in the East and was able to reassure her. His opinion, +too, had more weight with Hugo on this account, and though he grumbled +he consented to do what the doctor advised. And at the end of a week +Hugo was able to come downstairs, looking very white and shaky. He lay +out in the garden in a deck-chair for most of the day and managed to eat +a good many of the nourishing dishes Hannah prepared for him. + +It had been a hard time for Jan, as Hugo was not an invalid who excited +compassion in those who had to wait upon him. He took everything for +granted, was somewhat morose and exacting, and made no attempt to +control the extreme irritability that so often accompanies fever. + +When the fever left him, however, his tone changed, and the second +stage, indicated by Tony as "sad," set in with severity. + +His depression was positively overwhelming, and he seemed to think that +its public manifestation should arouse in all beholders the most +poignant and respectful sympathy. + +Poor Jan found it very difficult to behave in a manner at all calculated +to satisfy her brother-in-law. She had not, so far, uttered one word of +reproach to him, but she _would_ shrink visibly when he tried to discuss +his wife, and she could not even pretend to believe in the deep +sincerity of a grief that seemed to find such facile solace in +expression. The mode of expression, too, in hackneyed, commonplace +phrases, set her teeth on edge. + +She knew that poor Hugo--she called him "poor Hugo" just then--thought +her cold and unsympathetic because she rather discouraged his +outpourings; but Fay's death was too lately-lived a tragedy to make it +possible for her to talk of it--above all, with him; and after several +abortive attempts Hugo gave up all direct endeavour to make her. + +"You are terribly Scotch, Jan," he said one day. "I sometimes wonder +whether anything could make you _really_ feel." + +Jan looked at him with a sort of contemptuous wonder that caused him to +redden angrily, but she made no reply. + +He was her guest, he was a broken man, and she knew well that they had +not yet even approached their real difference. + +Two people, however, took Hugo's attitude of profound dejection in the +way he expected and liked it to be taken. These were Mr. Withells and +Hannah. + +Mr. Withells did not bear Jan a grudge because of her momentary lapse +from good manners. In less than a week from the unfortunate interview in +the nut-walk he had decided that she could not properly have understood +him; and that he had, perhaps, sprung upon her too suddenly the high +honour he held in store for her. + +So back he came in his neat little two-seater car to call at Wren's End +as if nothing had happened, and Jan, guiltily conscious that she _had_ +been very rude, was only too thankful to accept the olive-branch in the +spirit in which it was offered. + +He took to coming almost as often as before, and was thoroughly +interested and commiserating when he heard that poor Mrs. Tancred's +husband had come home from India and been taken ill almost immediately +on arrival. He sent some early strawberries grown in barrels in the +houses, and with them a note conjuring Jan "on no account to leave them +in the sickroom overnight, as the smell of fruit was so deleterious." + +Hannah considered Hugo's impenetrable gloom a most proper and husbandly +tribute to the departed. She felt that had there been a Mr. Hannah she +could not have wished him to show more proper feeling had Providence +thought fit to snatch her from his side. So she expressed her admiration +in the strongest of soups, the smoothest of custards, and the most +succulent of mutton-chops. Gladly would she have commanded Mrs. Earley +to slay her fattest cockerels for the nourishment of "yon poor +heartbroken young man," but that she remembered (from her experience of +Fay's only visit) that no one just home from India will give a thank-you +for chickens. + +Jan had cause to bless kind Mr. Withells, for directly Hugo was able for +it, he came with his largest and most comfortable car, driven by his +trustworthy chauffeur, to take the invalid for a run right into +Wiltshire. He pressed Jan to go too, but she pleaded "things to see to" +at home. + +Hugo had seen practically nothing of Meg. She was fully occupied in +keeping the children out of their father's way. Little Fay "pooah +daddied" him when they happened to meet, and Tony stared at him in the +weighing, measuring way Hugo found so trying, but Meg neither looked at +him nor did she address any remark whatever to him unless she positively +could not help it. + +Meg was thoroughly provoked that he should have chosen to turn up just +then. She had been most anxious that Peter should come. Firstly, +because, being sharply observant, she had come to the conclusion that +his visit would be a real pleasure to Jan, and secondly, because she +ardently desired to see him herself that she might judge whether he was +"at all good enough." + +And now her well-loved Jan, instead of looking her best, was growing +thin and haggard, losing her colour, and her sweet serenity, and in +their place a patient, tired expression in her eyes that went to Meg's +heart. + +She had hardly seen Jan alone for over a week; for since Hugo came +downstairs Meg had taken all her meals with the children in the nursery, +while Jan and Hugo had theirs in the rarely-used dining-room. The girls +breakfasted together, as Hugo had his in his room, but as the children +were always present there was small chance of any confidential +conversation. + +The first afternoon Mr. Withells took Hugo for a drive, Meg left her +children in Earley's care the minute she heard the car depart, and went +to look for Jan in the house. + +She found her opening all the windows in the dining-room. Meg shut the +door and sat on the polished table, lit a cigarette and regarded her own +pretty swinging feet with interest. + +"How long does Mr. Tancred propose to stay?" she asked. + +"How can I tell," Jan answered wearily, as she sat down in one of the +deep window-seats. "He has nowhere to go and no money to go with; and, +so far, except for a vague allusion to some tea-plantation in Ceylon, he +has suggested no plans. Oh, yes! I forgot, there was something about +fruit-farming or vine-growing in California, but I fancy considerable +capital would be needed for that." + +"And how much longer do you intend to keep Mr. Ledgard waiting for _his_ +visit?" + +"It would be small pleasure for Mr. Ledgard to come here with Hugo, and +horrid for Hugo, for he knows perfectly well what Peter ... Mr. Ledgard +thinks of him." + +"But if friend Hugo knew Mr. Ledgard was coming, might it not have an +accelerating effect upon his movements? You could give him his +fare--single, mind--to Guernsey. Let him go and stay with his people for +a bit." + +Jan shook her head. "I can't turn him out, Meg; and I'm not going to let +Mr. Ledgard waste his precious leave on an unpleasant visit. If I could +give him a good time it would be different; but after all he did for us +while we were in Bombay, it would be rank ingratitude to let him in for +more worries at home." + +"Perhaps he wouldn't consider them worries. Perhaps he'd _like_ to +come." + +Jan's strained expression relaxed a little and she smiled with her eyes +fixed on Meg's neat swinging feet. "He _says_ he would." + +"Well, then, take him at his word. We can turn the excellent Withells on +to Hugo. Let him instruct Hugo in the importance of daily free +gymnastics after one's bath and the necessity for windows being left +open at the top 'day and night, but _especially_ at night.' Let's tell +that Peter man to come." + +Jan shook her head. + +"No, I've explained the situation to him and begged him not to consider +us any more for the present. We must think of the maids too. You see, +Hugo makes a good deal of extra work, and I'm afraid Hannah might turn +grumpy if there was yet another man to do for." + +Meg thoughtfully blew beautiful rings of smoke, carefully poked a small +finger exactly into the centre of each and continued to swing her feet +in silence. + +Jan leaned her head against the casement and closed her eyes. + +Without so much as a rustle Meg descended from the table. She went over +to Jan and dropped a light kiss on the top of the thick wavy hair that +was so nearly white. Jan opened her tired eyes and smiled. + +This quaint person in the green linen frock and big white apron always +looked so restfully neat and clean, so capable and strong with that +inward shining strength that burns with a steady light. Jan put her arms +round Meg and leaned her head against the admirable apron's cool, smooth +bib. + +"You're here, anyway," she said. "You don't know how I thank God for +that." + +Meg held her close. "Listen to me," she said. "You're going on quite a +wrong tack with that brother-in-law. You are, Jan--I grieve to say +it--standing between him and his children--you don't allow him to see +his children, especially his adored daughter, nearly enough. Now that he +is well enough to take the air with Mr. Withells I propose that we allow +him to _study_ his children--and how can he study them if they are never +left with him? Let him realise what it would be if he had them with him +constantly, and no interfering aunt to keep them in order--do you +understand, Jan? Have you tumbled to it? You are losing a perfectly +magnificent opportunity." + +Jan pushed Meg a little away from her and looked up: "I believe there's +a good deal in what you say." + +"There's everything in what I say. As long as the man was ill one +couldn't, of course, but now we can and will--eh, Jan?" + +"Not Tony," Jan said nervously. "Hugo doesn't care much for Tony, and +I'm always afraid what he may say or do to the child." + +"If you let him have them both occasionally he may discover that Tony +has his points." + +"They're _both_ perfect darlings," Jan said resentfully. Meg laughed and +danced a two-step to the door. + +"They're darlings that need a good deal of diplomatic managing, and if +they don't get it they'll raise Cain. I'm going to take them down to the +post-office directly with my Indian letters. Why not come with us for +the walk?" + + * * * * * + +Hugo quite enjoyed his run with Mr. Withells and Mr. Withells enjoyed +being consulted about Hugo's plans. He felt real sympathy for a young +man whose health, ruined by one bad station after another, had forced +him to give up his career in India. He suggested various ameliorating +treatments to Hugo, who received his advice with respectful gratitude, +and they arranged to drive again together on Saturday, which was next +day but one. + +Hugo sought the sofa in the drawing-room for a quiet hour before dinner +and lit a cigar. He had hardly realised his pleasantly tired and rather +somnolent condition when his daughter entered carrying a large +Teddy-bear, two dolls, a toy trumpet and a box containing a wooden +tea-set. She dropped several of these articles just inside the door. +"Come and help me pick up my sings," she commanded. "I've come to play +wis loo, Daddie." + +Hugo did not move. He was fond of little Fay; he admired her good looks +and her splendid health, but he didn't in the least desire her society +just then. + +"Poor Daddie's tired," he said in his "saddest" tone. "I think you'd +better go and play in the nursery with Tony." + +"No," said little Fay, "Tony's not zere; _loo_ mus' play wis me. +Or"--she added as a happy alternative--"loo can tell me sumfin +instastin." + +"Surely," said Hugo, "it's your bed-time?" + +"No," little Fay answered, and the letters were never formed that could +express the finality of that "no," "Med will fesh me when it's time. +I've come to play wis _loo_. Det up, Daddie; loo can't play p'oply lying +zere." + +"Oh, yes, I can," Hugo protested eagerly. "You bring all your nice toys +one by one and show them to me." + +"'At," she remarked with great scorn, "would be a velly stupid game. Det +up!" + +"Why can't Meg play with you?" Hugo asked irritably. "What's she doing?" + +Little Fay stared at her father. She was unaccustomed to be addressed +in that tone, and she resented it. Earley and Mr. Burgess were her +humble slaves. Captain Middleton did as he was told and became an +elephant, a camel, or a polar bear on the shortest notice, moreover he +threw himself into the part with real goodwill and enjoyment. The lazy +man lying there on the sofa, who showed no flattering pleasure in her +society, must be roused to a sense of his shortcomings. She seized the +Teddy-bear, swung it round her head and brought it down with a +resounding thump on Hugo's chest. "Det up," she said more loudly. "Loo +don't seem to know any stolies, so you _mus'_ play wis me." + +Hugo swung his legs off the sofa and sat up to recover his breath, which +had been knocked out of him by the Teddy-bear. + +"You're a very rude little girl," he said crossly. "You'll have to be +punished if you do that sort of thing." + +"What sort of sing?" + +"What you did just now; it's very naughty indeed." + +"What nelse?" + +Little Fay stood with her head on one side like an inquisitive sparrow. +One of the things she had not dropped was the tin trumpet. She raised it +to her lips now, and blew a blast that went through Hugo's head like a +knife. + +He snatched it from her. "You're not to do that," he said. "I can't +stand it. Go and pick up those other things and show them to me." + +"Loo can see zem from here." + +"Not what's in the box," he suggested diplomatically. + +"I'm tah'ed too," she said, suddenly sitting down on the floor. "You +fesh 'em." + +"Will you play with them if I do?" + +She shook her head. "Not if loo're closs, and lude and naughty and ... +stupid." + +Hugo groaned and stalked over to collect the two dolls and the +tea-things. He brought them back and put them down on one end of the +sofa while he sat down at the other. + +"Now," he said, "show me how you play with them." + +His cigar had gone out and he struck a match to light it again. Little +Fay scrambled to her feet and blew it out before he had touched his +cigar with it. + +"Adain," she said joyously. "Make anozer light." + +He struck another match, but sheltered it with his hand till he'd got +his cigar going, his daughter blowing vigorously all the time. + +"Now," she said, "you can be a nengine and I'll be the tlain." + +Round that drawing-room the unfortunate Hugo ran, encouraged in his +efforts by blasts upon the trumpet. The chairs were arranged as +carriages, the dolls as passengers, and the box of tea-things was +luggage. None of these transformations were suggested by Hugo, but +little Fay had played the game so often under Meg's brilliant +supervision that she knew all the properties by heart. + +At the end of fifteen minutes Hugo was thoroughly exhausted and audibly +thanked God when Meg appeared to fetch her charge. But he hadn't +finished even then, for little Fay, aided and abetted by Meg, insisted +that every single thing should be tidily put back exactly where it was +before. + +At the door, just as they were on the point of departure, Meg paused. +"You must enjoy having her all to yourself for a little while," she said +in honeyed, sympathetic tones such as Hugo, certainly, had never heard +from her before. "I fear we've been rather selfish about it, but for the +future we must not forget that you have the first right to her.... Did +you kiss your dear Daddie, my darling?" + + * * * * * + +Through the shut door Hugo heard his daughter's voice proclaiming in +lofty, pitying tones, "Pooah Daddie velly stupid man, he was a velly bad +nengine, he did it all long." + +"Damn!" said Hugo Tancred. + + * * * * * + +During dinner that night Jan talked continually about the children. She +consulted Hugo as to things in which he took not the smallest interest, +such as what primers he considered the best for earliest instruction in +reading, and whether he thought the Montessori method advantageous or +not. + +As they sat over dessert he volunteered the remark that little Fay was +rather an exhausting child. + +"All children are," Jan answered, "and I've just been thinking that +while you are here to help me, it would be such a good chance to give +Meg a little holiday. She has not had a day off since I came back from +India, and it would be so nice for her to go to Cheltenham for a few +days to see Major Morton." + +"But surely," Hugo said uneasily, "that's what she's here for, to look +after the children. She's very highly paid; you could get a good nurse +for half what you pay her." + +"I doubt it, and you must remember that, because she loved Fay, she is +accepting less than half of what she could earn elsewhere to help me +with Fay's children." + +"Of course, if you import sentiment into the matter you must pay for +it." + +"But I fear that's just what I don't do." + +"My dear Jan, you must forgive me if I venture to think that both you +and your father, and even Fay, were quite absurd about Meg Morton. She's +a nice enough little girl, but nothing so very wonderful, and as for her +needing a holiday after a couple of months of the very soft job she has +with you ... that's sheer nonsense." + +There was silence for a minute. Hugo took another chocolate and said, +"You know I don't believe in having children all over the place. The +nursery is the proper place for them when they're little, and school is +the proper place--most certainly the proper place, anyway, for a boy--as +soon as ever any school can be found to take him." + +"I quite agree with you as to the benefit of a good school," Jan said +sweetly. "I am painfully conscious myself of how much I lost in never +having had any regular education. Have you thought yet what preparatory +school you'd prefer for Tony?" + +"Hardly yet. I've not been home long enough, and, as you know, at +present, I've no money at all...." + +"I shall be most pleased to help with Tony's education, but in that case +I should expect to have some voice in the school selected." + +"Certainly, certainly," Hugo agreed. "But what I really want to know is +what you propose to do to help me to attain a position in which I _can_ +educate my children as we both should wish." + +"I don't quite see where I come in." + +"My dear Jan, that's absurd. You have money--and a few hundreds now will +start me again...." + +"Start you again in what direction?" + +"That's what we've got to thresh out. I've several propositions to lay +before you." + +"All propositions will have to be submitted to Mr. Davidson." + +"That's nonsense. You must remember that I could contest Fay's will if I +liked--it was grossly unfair to leave that two thousand pounds away from +me." + +"She left it to her children, Hugo, and _you_ must remember you spent +eight thousand pounds of her money." + +"_I_ didn't spend it. Do you think _I_ benefited? The investments were +unfortunate, I grant you, but that's not to say I had it." + +"Anyway that money is gone." + +"And the sooner I set about making some more to replace it the better, +but I must have help." + +"It takes every penny of my income to run things here." + +"Well, you know, Jan, to be quite candid, I think it's rather ridiculous +of you to live here. You could let this place easily and for a good +rent. In a smaller house you'd be equally comfortable and in easier +circumstances. I'm not at all sure I approve of my children being +brought up with the false ideas they will inevitably acquire if they +continue to live in a big place like this." + +"You see, Hugo, it happens to be my house, and I'm fond of it." + +"No doubt, but if you make a fetish of the house, if the house stands in +the way of your helping your own flesh and blood...." + +"I don't think I've ever refused to help my _own_ relations." + +"Which means, I suppose, that your sister's husband is nothing to you." + +Jan rose. "You are rather unjust, I think," she said quietly. "I must +put the children first." + +"And suppose you marry----" + +"I certainly wouldn't marry any man who would object to my doing all I +could for my sister's children." + +"You think so now, but wait till a man comes along. You're just getting +to the age, Jan, when a woman is most apt to make a fool of herself over +a man. And, remember this, I'd much rather my children were brought up +simply with my people in Guernsey than that they should grow up with all +sorts of false ideas with nothing to back them." + +Jan clenched her teeth, and though outwardly she was silent, her soul +was repeating, "I _will_ not fear," over and over again. + +"Perhaps you are right, Hugo," she said quietly. "You must arrange as +you think best; only please remember that you can hardly expect me to +contribute to the keeping of the children if I am allowed no voice in +their upbringing. Have you consulted your parents as to their living +with them in Guernsey? Shall we go out? It's such a beautiful evening." + +Hugo followed her into the hall and out into the garden. Involuntarily +he looked after her with considerable admiration. She held herself well, +that quiet woman. She waited for him in the drive, and as she did so +Tony's words came back to her: "I used to feel frightened inside, but I +wouldn't let him know it, and then--it was funny--but quite sunnly I +wasn't frightened any more. You try it." + + * * * * * + +Jan had tried it, and, again to quote Tony, "it just happened." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +"THE WAY OF A MAN WITH A MAID" + + +Peter began to feel annoyed. More and more clearly did he realise that +his chief object in coming home was to see Jan again; and here was he, +still in London in the third week of June, and never so much as a +glimpse of her. + +Her last letter, too, had postponed his visit indefinitely, and he +almost thought she was not treating him quite fairly. It was, of course, +a confounded bore that Hugo Tancred should have turned up just now, but +Peter saw no reason for staying away for ever on that account. He knew +Wren's End was a good-sized house, and though he appreciated Jan's +understanding of the fact that he wouldn't exactly choose to be a +fellow-guest with such a thoroughly bad hat as Hugo Tancred, still he +considered it was laying too much stress upon the finer shades of +feeling to keep him away so long. + +His aunt was delighted to have him; London was very pleasant; he had +dined out quite a number of times, attended some big parties, seen all +the best plays, and bought or ordered all the new clothes he needed, and +a good deal that he didn't need at all. He had also bought a motor to +take out with him. It was more than time to get within range of the main +objective of his leave. + +Suggestions that Jan _must_ have shopping to do and might as well come +up for a day or two to do it only elicited the reply that she had no +money for shopping and that it was most unlikely that she would be in +London again for ages. + +She hadn't answered his last letter, either, which was another +grievance. + +Then came a letter with the Amber Guiting post-mark, and in a +handwriting he did not know--a funny little, clear, square handwriting +with character in every stroke. + +He opened it and read: + + "DEAR MR. LEDGARD, + + "It is just possible you may have heard of me from Mrs. + Tancred or Miss Ross, but in case you haven't I will + explain that I am nurse to the little Tancreds and that + Miss Ross is my dearest friend. I think it would be a very + good thing if you came down to see her, for her + brother-in-law is here, and I am never quite sure what he + might persuade her to do if he put the screw on about the + children. There is a comfortable inn called 'The Green + Hart,' and there's another called 'The Full Basket,' but I + fear you'd not get a room there as it's very small and + always chock-full at this time of year with fishing people. + + "You see, if you came down to 'The Green Hart,' Jan + couldn't say anything, for you've a perfect right to stay + there if you choose, and I know it would help her and + strengthen her hands to talk things over with you. She has + spoken much of your kindness to them all in India. + + "Do you fish, I wonder? I'm sure Squire Walcote would be + amiable to any friend of Jan's. + + "Believe me, yours truly, + + "MARGARET MORTON." + +Peter put the letter in his pocket and left the rest of his +correspondence till after breakfast, and his aunt decided that he really +was a most amusing and agreeable companion, and that she must have been +mistaken last night in thinking he seemed rather depressed and worried. + +After breakfast he went out to send a reply-paid telegram, and then to +the garage, where he kept his car. Among other places he drove to "Hardy +Brothers" in Pall Mall, where he stayed over an hour. + +By the time he got back to Artillery Mansions it was lunch time. More +letters awaited him, also a telegram. + +During lunch he mentioned casually that he was going down into the +country for the week-end to fish. He was going to motor down. + +"Yes," in answer to his aunt's inquiry, "I do know people down there, +but I'm not going to stay with them. I'm going to the inn--one's freer, +you know, and if the sport's good I may stay on a few days." + + * * * * * + +Mr. Withells came again for Hugo on Saturday morning and proposed a run +right over to Cheltenham for a rose show. Hugo declined the rose show, +but gratefully accepted the drive. He would potter about the town while +Mr. Withells inspected the flowers. The Grange head-gardener had +several exhibits, and was to be taken on the front seat. + +They started soon after breakfast and would be gone the whole day, for +it was an hour and three-quarters run by road and two by train. + +"I wish he had offered to take you," Jan said to Meg when the big motor +had vanished out of the drive. "It would have been so nice for you to +see Major Morton." + +"And sit bodkin between Hugo and Mr. Withells or on one of those horrid +little folding-seats--no, thank you! When I go to see my poor little +papa I shall go by train by myself. I'll choose a day when their dear +father can help you with the children." + +After lunch Meg began to find fault with Jan's appearance. "I simply +won't see you in that old grey skirt a minute longer--go and put on a +white frock--a nice white frock. You've got plenty." + +"Who is always grumbling about the washing? Besides, I want to garden." + +"You can't garden this afternoon. On such a lovely day it's your duty to +dress in accordance with it. I'm going to clean up my children, and then +we'll all go down to the post-office to buy stamps and show ourselves. +_You_ ought to call on Lady Mary--you know you ought. Go and change, and +then come and see if I approve of you. You might leave a card at the +vicarage, too. I know they're going to the rose show, so you'd be quite +safe." + +"You're a nuisance, Meg," Jan complained. "Let you and little Fay go +swanking down the village if you like, but why can't you leave Tony and +me to potter comfortably in our old clothes?" + +"I'm tired of your old clothes; I want you to look decent for once. You +haven't done anything I asked you for ages. You might as well do this." + +Jan sighed. "It seems rather absurd when you yourself say every soul we +know will be at the flower show." + +"I never said anything of the kind. I said Mrs. Fream was going to the +flower show. Hurry up, Jan." + + * * * * * + +"Well, will I do? Will I satisfy the hedges and ditches, do you think?" +Jan asked later, as she appeared in the hall clad in the white raiment +Meg had commanded. + +Meg turned her round. "Very nice indeed," she said. "I'm glad you put on +the expensive one. It's funny why the very plain things cost such a lot. +I like the black hat with your white hair. Yes, I consent to take you +out; I don't mind owning you for my missus. Children, come and admire +Auntie Jan." + +Jan dutifully delivered a card at the vicarage, and the nursery party +left her to walk up the Manor drive alone. Lady Mary was in, and pleased +to see her, but she only stayed a quarter of an hour, because Meg had +made her promise to meet them again in the village. They were to have +tea in the garden with the children and make it a little festival. + +What a funny little thing Meg was, she thought as she strolled down the +drive under the splendid beeches. So determined to have her own way in +small things, such an incarnation of self-sacrifice in big ones. + +A man was standing just outside the great gates in a patch of black +shade thrown by a holly-tree in the lodge garden. Jan was long-sighted, +and something in the figure and its pose caused her to stop suddenly. He +wore the usual grey summer suit and a straw hat. Yet he reminded her of +somebody, but him she had always seen in a topee, out of doors. + +Of course it was only a resemblance--but what was he waiting there for? + +He moved out from the patch of shade and looked up the drive through the +open gates. He took off his hat and waved it, and came quickly towards +her. + +"I couldn't wait any longer," he said. "I won't be the least bit of a +nuisance. I've come to fish, and I'm staying at 'The Green Hart'.... And +how are you?" + +She could never make it out, when she thought it over afterwards, but +Jan found herself standing with both her hands in his and her beautiful +black parasol tumbled unheeded in the dust. + +"I happened to meet the children and Miss Morton, and they asked me to +tell you they've gone home. They also invited me to tea." + +"So do I," said Jan. + +"I should hardly have known Tony," he continued; "he looks capital. And +as for little Fay--she's a picture, but she always was." + +"Did they know you?" + +"_Did_ they know me!" + +"Were they awfully pleased?" + +"They were ever so jolly; even Tony shouted." + +At the lodge they met the Squire. Jan introduced Peter and explained +that he had just come down for a few days' fishing and was staying at +"The Green Hart." The Squire proffered advice as to the best flies and a +warning that he must not hope for much sport. The Amber was a difficult +river, very; and variable; and it had been a particularly dry June. + +Peter bore up under this depressing intelligence and he and Jan walked +on through warm, scented lanes to Wren's End; and Peter looked at Jan a +good deal. + +Those who happened to be in London during the season of 1914 will +remember that it was a period of powder and paint and frankest +touching-up of complexions. The young and pretty were blackened and +whitened and reddened quite as crudely as the old and ugly. There was no +attempt at concealment. The faces of many Mayfair ladies filled Peter +with disrespectful astonishment. He had not been home for four years, +and then nice girls didn't do that sort of thing--much. + +Now one of Jan's best points was her complexion; it was so fair and +fresh. The touch of sunburn, too, was becoming, for she didn't freckle. + +Peter found himself positively thankful to behold a really clean face; +a face, too, that just then positively beamed with warm welcome and +frank pleasure. + +A clean face; a cool, clean frock; kind, candid eyes and a gentle, +sincere voice--yes, they were all there just as he remembered them, just +as he had so often dreamt of them. Moreover, he decided there and then +that the Georgian ladies knew what they were about when they powdered +their hair--white hair, he thought, was extraordinarily becoming to a +woman. + +"You are looking better than when I was in Bombay. I think your leave +must have done you good already," said the kind, friendly voice. + +"I need a spell of country air, really to set me up," said Peter. + +They had an hilarious tea with the children on the Wren's lawn, and the +tamest of the robins hopped about on the step just to show that he +didn't care a fig for any of them. + +Meg was just going to take the children to bed when Mr. Withells brought +Hugo back. It was an awkward moment. Peter knew far too much about Hugo +to simulate the smallest cordiality; and Hugo was too well aware of some +of the things Peter knew to feel at all comfortable in his presence. But +he had no intention of giving way an inch. He took the chair Meg had +just vacated and sat down. Mr. Withells, too, sat down for a few +minutes, and no sooner had he done so than William dashed out from +amongst them, and, returning, was accompanied by Captain Middleton. + +"No tea, thank you. Just got down from town, came with a message from +my uncle--would Miss Ross's friend care for a rod on the Manor water on +Monday? A brother officer who had been coming had failed at the last +minute--there was room for four rods, but there wasn't a chance of much +sport." + +Miles was introduced to Peter and sat down by him. The children rushed +at Miles and, ably impeded by William, swarmed over him in riotous +welcome, wholly regardless of their nurse's voice which summoned them to +bed. + +Meg stood waiting. + +"Miss Morton's father lives in Cheltenham," Jan said to Mr. Withells, +who seemed rather left out. "She's going to see him on Tuesday--to spend +the day." + +"Then," said Mr. Withells in his clear staccato, "she must take the +9.15--it's much the best train in the day. And the 4.55 back. No other +trains are at all suitable. I hope you will be guided by me in this +matter, Miss Morton. I've made the journey many times." + +So had Meg; but Mr. Withells always irritated her to such an extent that +had it been possible, she would have declared her intention to go and +return by quite different trains. As it was, she nodded pleasantly and +said those were the very trains she had selected. + +Miles thrust his head out from among the encompassing three and +respectfully implored Mr. Withells' advice about trains to Cricklade, +which lay off the Cheltenham route, even going so far as to note the +hours of departure and arrival carefully in a little book. + +Finally Meg came and disencumbered Miles of the children and bore them +away. + +When her voice took on a certain tone it was as useless to cope with Meg +as with Auntie Jan. They knew this, and like wise children gave in +gracefully. + +Elaborate farewells had to be said to everybody, and with a final warm +embrace for Miles, little Fay called to him "Tum and see me in my baff." + +"Captain Middleton will have gone long before you are ready for that," +Meg said inhospitably, and trying to look very tall and dignified she +walked up the three steps leading to the nursery. But it is almost +impossible to look imposing with a lagging child dragging at each hand, +and poor Meg felt that her exit was far from effective. + +William settled himself comfortably across his master's knees and in two +minutes was snoring softly. + +Miles manifested so keen an interest in Mr. Withells' exhibits (he had +got a second prize and a highly commended) that the kindly little man +was quite attracted; and when Miles inquired about trains to Cheltenham +he gave him precisely the same advice that he had given Meg. + + * * * * * * * * + +The station at Amber Guiting is seldom crowded; it's on a shuttle line, +and except on market-day there is but little passenger traffic. + +Therefore a small young lady with rather conspicuously red hair, a neat +grey coat and skirt, a shady grey straw hat trimmed with white clover +and green leaves, and a green parasol, was noticeable upon the platform +out of all proportion to her size. + +The train was waiting. The lady entered an empty third-class carriage, +and sitting in the corner with her back to the engine, shut herself in. +The train departed punctually, and she took out from her bag a note-book +which she studied with frowning concentration. + +Ten minutes further down the line the train stops again at Guiting +Green, and here the young lady looked out of the window to see whether +anyone was travelling that she recognised. + +There was. But it was impossible to judge from the young lady's +expression whether the recognition gave her pleasure or not. + +She drew in her head very quickly, but not before she had been seen. + +"Hullo, Miss Morton! Where are you going? May I get in here?" + +"Aren't you travelling first?" + +"Not a bit of it. Sure you don't mind? How jolly to have met you!" + +Miles looked so smiling, so big and well turned out, and pleased with +life, that Meg's severe expression relaxed somewhat. + +"I suppose," she said, "you're just going to the junction. But why come +to Guiting Green?" + +"I came to Guiting Green because it's exactly four miles from the Manor +House. And I've walked those four miles, Miss Morton, walked 'em for +the good of my health. Wish it wasn't so dusty, though--look at my +boots! _I'm_ going to Cheltenham. Where are you going?" + +"Cheltenham?" Meg repeated suspiciously. "What are you going to do +there?" + +"I'm going to see about a horse--not a dog this time--I hear that +Smith's have got a horse that may suit me; really up to my weight they +say it is, so I took the chance of going over while I'm with my +uncle--it's a lot nearer than town, you know. But where are _you_ +going?" + +"I," said Meg, "am going to Cheltenham----" + +"To Cheltenham!" Miles exclaimed in rather overdone astonishment. "What +an extraordinary coincidence! And what are _you_ going to buy in +Cheltenham?" + +"I am going to see my father. I thought I had told you he lives there." + +"So you did, of course. How stupid of me to forget! Well, it's very +jolly we should happen to be going down together, isn't it?" + +They looked at one another, and Miles laughed. + +"I'm not at all sure that we ought to travel together after we reach the +junction, and I don't believe you've got a third-class ticket." Meg +looked very prim. + +Miles produced his ticket--it _was_ third-class. + +"There!" he said triumphantly. + +"You would be much more comfortable in a smoker." + +"So would you. We'll take a smoker; I've got the sort of cigarette you +like." + +At the junction they got a smoker, and Miles saw to it that they had it +to themselves; he also persuaded the guard to give Meg a square wooden +box to put her feet on, because he thought the seats were too high for +her. + +It seemed a very short journey. + +Major Morton was awaiting Meg when they arrived; a little gentleman +immaculately neat (it was quite clear whence Meg got her love of detail +and finish)--who looked both washed-out and dried-up. He embraced her +with considerable solemnity, exclaiming, "God bless you, my dear child! +You look better than I expected." + +"Papa, dear, here is Captain Middleton, a friend from Amber Guiting. We +happened to travel together." + +"Pleased to meet you, sir," said the little Major graciously; and +somehow Miles contrived in two minutes so to ingratiate himself with +Meg's "poor little papa" that they all walked out of the station +together as a matter of course. + +Then came the question of plans. + +Meg had shopping to do, declared she had a list as long as her arm, but +was entirely at her father's disposal as to whether she should do it +before or after lunch. + +Miles boldly suggested she should do it now, at once, while it was still +fairly cool, and then she could have all her parcels sent to the station +to meet her. He seemed quite eager to get rid of Meg. The little Major +agreed that this would be the best course. He would stroll round to his +club while Meg was shopping, and meet her when she thought she would +have finished. They walked to the promenade and dropped her at Cavendish +House. Miles, explaining that he had to go to Smith's to look at a +horse, asked for directions from the Major. Their way was the same, and +without so much as bidding her farewell, Miles strolled up one of the +prettiest promenades in England in company with her father. Meg felt +rather dazed. + +She prided herself on having reduced shopping to a fine art, but to-day, +somehow, she didn't get through as quickly as usual, and there was a +number of items on her list still unticked when it was time to meet her +father just outside his club at the top of the promenade. + +Major Morton was the essence of punctuality. Meg flew to meet him, and +found he had waited five minutes. He was not, however, upset, as might +have been expected. He took her to his rooms in a quiet terrace behind +the promenade and comfortably near his club. The sun-blinds were down +outside his sitting-room windows, and the room seemed cool and pleasant. + +Then it was that Meg discovered that her father was looking at her in +quite a new way. Almost, in fact, as though he had never seen her +before. + +Was it her short hair? she wondered. + +Yet that was not very noticeable under such a shady hat. + +Major Morton had vigorously opposed the nursemaid scheme. To the +sympathetic ladies who attended the same strictly evangelical church of +which he was a pillar, he confided that his only daughter did not care +for "a quiet domestic life." It was a grief to him--but, after all, +parents are shelved nowadays; every girl wants to "live her own life," +and he would be the last man to stand in the way of his child's +happiness. The ladies felt very sorry for Major Morton and indignant +with the hard-hearted, unfilial Meg. They did not realise that had Meg +lived with her father--in rooms--and earned nothing, the Major's +delicate digestion might occasionally have suffered, and Meg would +undoubtedly have been half-starved. + +To-day, however, he was more hopeful about Meg than he had been for a +long time. Since the Trent episode he had ceased even to imagine her +possible marriage. By her own headstrong folly she had ruined all her +chances. "The weariful rich" who had got her the post did not spare him +this aspect of her deplorable conduct. To-day, however, there was a rift +in these dark clouds of consequence. + +Captain Middleton--he only knows how--had persuaded Major Morton to go +with him to see the horse, had asked his quite useless advice, and had +subtly and insidiously conveyed to the Major, without one single +incriminating sentence, a very clear idea as to his own feelings for the +Major's daughter. + +Major Morton felt cheered. + +He had no idea who Miles really was, but he had remarked the gunner tie, +and, asking to what part of the Royal Regiment Miles belonged, decided +that no mere pauper could be a Horse-Gunner. + +He regarded his daughter with new eyes. + +She was undoubtedly attractive. He discovered certain resemblances to +himself that he had never noticed before. + +Then he informed her that he had promised they would both lunch with her +agreeable friend at the Queen's Hotel: "He made such a point of it," +said Major Morton, "I could hardly refuse; begged us to take pity on his +loneliness, and so on--and I'm feeling rather better to-day." + +Meg decided that the tide of fate was too strong for her, she must just +drift with it. + +It was a most pleasant lunch, save for one incident. Lady Penelope +Pottinger and her husband, accompanied by Lottie Trent and a man, were +lunching at another table. + +Lady Penelope's party came in late. Miles and his guests had already +arrived at coffee when they appeared. + +They had to pass Miles' table, and Lady Penelope stopped; so did her +husband. She shook hands with Meg. Miss Trent passed by with her nose in +the air. + +Miles presented his relations to the Major and they passed on. + +The Major was quite pleased and rather flattered. He had no idea that +the tall young woman with Lady Penelope had deliberately cut his host. +But Meg knew just why she had done it. + +After lunch Miles very properly effaced himself, but made a point of +asking the Major if he might act as Miss Morton's escort on the journey +back to Amber Guiting. + +The Major graciously accompanied Meg while she did the rest of her +shopping, and in the promenade they met the Pottinger party again. + +The 4.55 was crowded. Miles collected Meg's parcels and suggested to the +Major that it would be less tiring for his daughter if they returned +first-class. Should he change the tickets? + +The Major thought it a sensible proposition, especially with all those +parcels. Meg would pay Captain Middleton the difference. + +Again an amiable porter secured them an empty carriage. The parcels +spread themselves luxuriously upon the unoccupied seats. The Major +kissed his daughter and gave her his benediction, shaking hands quite +warmly with her "pleasant young friend." + +The 4.55 runs right up to the junction without a stop. Meg took off her +best hat and placed it carefully in the rack. She leaned her bewildered +head against the cushions and closed her eyes. She would drift with the +tide just a few minutes more, and then---- + +Miles put a box of groceries for Lady Mary under her feet. She smiled +faintly, but did not speak. + +Presently she opened her eyes to find him regarding her with that +expression she had surprised once or twice before, and never understood. + +"Tired?" he asked. + +"Only pleasantly. I think I've only travelled first-class about five +times in my life before--and then it was with Mr. Ross." + +"And now it's with me, and I hope it's the first of many." + +"You say very odd things." + +"What I mean isn't in the least odd--it's the most natural thing in the +world." + +"What is?" + +"To want to go on travelling with you." + +"If you're going to talk nonsense, I shall go to sleep again." + +"No, I don't think I can allow you to go to sleep. I want you to wake up +and face facts." + +"Facts?" + +"A fact." + +"Facts are sometimes very unpleasant." + +"I hope the fact I want you to face isn't exactly that--if it is ... +then I'm ... a jolly miserable chap. Miss Morton--Meg--you must see how +it is with me--you must know that you're dearer to me than anything on +earth. I think your father tumbled to it--and I don't think he minded +... that I should want you for my wife." + +"My poor little papa would be relieved to think that anyone could...." + +"Could what?" + +"Care for me ... in that way." + +"Nonsense! But I'm exceedingly glad to have met your father." + +"Why?" + +"Because I wanted to meet him." + +"Again, why?" + +"Because he's your father." + +"Did you observe that Miss Lotty Trent cut you dead at the Queen's +to-day?" + +"I did notice it, and, like you, I wonder why." + +"I can tell you." + +"I don't think you'd better bother. Miss Trent's opinion of me really +doesn't matter----" + +"It was because you were with me." + +"But what a silly reason--if it is a reason." + +"Captain Middleton, will you answer a question quite truthfully?" + +"I'll try." + +"What have you heard about me in connection with the Trents?" + +"Not much, and that I don't believe." + +"But you must believe it, some of it. It may not be so bad--as it might +have been--but I put myself entirely in the wrong. I deceived Mrs. Trent +and I did a thing no girl in her senses ought to have done." + +"Look here, Meg," said Miles, leaning forward. "I don't want to know +anything you don't choose to tell me; but since you _are_ on the +subject--what did happen between you and that ... and Walter Brooke?" + +Meg, too, leant forward; the express swayed and lurched. Their faces +were very near; their eyes met and held each other in a long, searching +gaze on the one side and an answering look of absolute candour on the +other. + +"I promised to go away with him, and I went away a few miles, and +something came over me that I couldn't go any further, and I broke my +promise and ran away. Jan knows it's true, for it was to them I went. +But the Trents would never believe it, though Mr. Ross saw Mrs. Trent +herself, and told her exactly what had happened. And I daresay ... they +are quite justified." + +"And how many times have you seen him since?" + +"Never till the other day, when he nearly ran over William." + +"And how long ago is it since all this happened?" + +"Nearly six years." + +"Don't you think it's about time you put it all out of your mind?" + +"I had put it out of my mind ... till ... you came." + +"It didn't make any difference to me." + +"I shall never forget that," Meg said, so low that the rattle of the +train wholly drowned her remark, but it couldn't conceal her smile. + +Miles lost his head. He kneeled down plump on the floor of that +compartment and took her in his arms and kissed her. + + * * * * * * * * + +"All the same, I don't believe I can marry you," she said later. + +"Why on earth not?" + +"Because I don't think I'm a suitable wife for you." + +"Surely I'm the best judge of that." + +"No, you're not a judge at all. You think you're in love with me...." + +"I'm hanged if I do--I _know_." + +"Because you're sorry for me----" + +"On the contrary, I'm sorry for myself. I think you're a hard-hearted +... obstinate ... little...." + +Mr. Withells would have been scandalised at the conduct of Miles. He +would undoubtedly have described it as both "insanitary and improper." + +"Oh, please listen!" Meg gasped. "Perhaps a long time hence ... if +you're still of the same mind...." + +"Anyway, may I tell people?" + +"Not a soul. I won't have my Jan worried just now. I've undertaken those +children ... and she's having a bad time with that brother-in-law----" + +"I say, Meg, what is it about that chap Tancred? I can't stick him.... +Is he a bad egg, or what?" + +"He is...." + +"Poor Miss Ross! But why does she have him there?" + +"Oh, it's a long story--and here we are at the junction, and I'm not +going on first to Amber Guiting--so there!" + + * * * * * + +Jan in the pony-cart was waiting outside when Meg came from the little +station. Captain Middleton followed in her train, laden with parcels +like a Father Christmas. + +He packed her and the parcels in, covered both the ladies with the +dust-holland, announced that he had bought a charger, and waited to get +into the Manor motor till they had driven out of the station. + +They neither of them spoke till they had turned into the road. Then Jan +quoted softly: "When I go to see my poor little papa, I shall go by +train _by myself_." + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +A DEMONSTRATION IN FORCE + + +Hugo was dissatisfied. So far, beyond a miserable ten pounds to buy some +clothes, he had got no money out of Jan; and he was getting bored. + +To be sure, he still had most of the ten pounds, for he had gone and +ordered everything in the market-town, where the name of Ross was +considered safe as the Bank of England. So he hadn't paid for anything. + +Then there was that fellow Ledgard--what did he want hanging about, +pretending to fish? He was after Jan and her money, that was his game. + +But however clear Peter Ledgard's nefarious intentions might be, Hugo +confessed his sister-in-law puzzled him. She wasn't nearly as much +afraid of him as he had expected. She was always gentle and courteous, +but under the soft exterior he had occasionally felt a rock of +determination, that was disconcerting. + +He had ceased to harp upon the string of his desolation. Somehow Jan +contrived to show him that she didn't believe in it, and yet she never +said one word to which he could take exception. + +It was awkward that his own people were all of them so unsympathetic +about the children. His father and mother declared themselves to be too +old to undertake them unless Hugo could pay liberally for their board +and for a thoroughly capable nurse. Neither of his sisters would +entertain the idea at all; and both wrote pointing out that until Hugo +was able to make a home for them himself, he would be most foolish to +interfere with the arrangements of a devoted aunt who appeared not only +willing but anxious to assume their entire maintenance. + +He had told his people that his health forced him to relinquish his work +in India. His brothers-in-law, although they had no idea of the real +cause, thought there was something fishy about this, and were +unsympathetic. + +Peter got at the doctor, and the doctor declared sea-air to be the one +thing necessary to insure Hugo's complete restoration to health. Jan +happened to mention that her brother-in-law's people lived in Guernsey, +close to the shore. The doctor said he couldn't do better than go and +stay with them, and that the journey wouldn't hurt him a bit. + +Still Hugo appeared reluctant to leave Wren's End. + +Peter came one day and demanded a business talk with him. It was a most +unpleasant conversation. Peter declared on Jan's behalf that she was +quite ready to help him to some new start in life, but that if it meant +a partnership in any rubber plantation, fruit-farm, or business of any +sort whatsoever, the money required must be paid through her lawyer +directly into the hands of the planter, farmer, or merchant concerned. + +Hugo declared such an offer to be an insult. Peter replied that it was +a great deal better than he deserved or could expect; and that he, +personally, thought Miss Ross very silly to make it; but she did make +it, and attached to its acceptance was a clause to the effect that until +he could show he was in a position to maintain his family in comfort, he +was to give their aunt an undertaking that he would not interfere with +her arrangements for the welfare of the children. + +"I see no reason," said Hugo, "why you should interfere between my +sister-in-law and me, but, of course, any fool could see what you're +after. _You_ want her money, and when you've married her, I suppose my +poor children are to be thrown out into the street, and me too far off +to see after them." + +"Up to now," Peter retorted, "you have shown no particular desire to +'see after' your children. Why are you such a fool, Tancred? Why don't +you thankfully accept Miss Ross's generous offer, and try to make a +fresh start?" + +"It's no business of yours what I do." + +"Certainly not, but your sister-in-law's peace and happiness is my +business, because I have the greatest admiration, respect and liking for +her." + +"_Les beaux yeux de sa cassette_," growled Hugo. + +"You _are_ an ass," Peter said wearily. "And you know very little of +Miss Ross if you haven't seen by this time ..." Peter stopped. + +"Well, go on." + +"No," said Peter, "I won't go on, for it's running my horses on a rock. +Think it over, that's all. But remember the offer does not remain open +indefinitely." + +"Well, and if I choose to refuse it and go to law and _take_ my +children--what then?" + +"No court in England would give you their custody." + +"Why not?" + +"Because you couldn't show means to support them, and we could produce +witnesses to prove that you are not a fit person to have the custody of +children." + +"We should see about that." + +"Well, think it over. It's your affair, you know." And Peter went away, +leaving Hugo to curse and bite his nails in impotent rage. Peter really +was far from conciliatory. + +Jan needed a fright, Hugo decided; that's what she wanted to bring her +to heel. And before very long he'd see that she got it. She shouldn't +shelter herself for ever behind that supercilious beast, Ledgard. Hugo +was quite ready to have been pleasant to Jan and to have met her more +than half-way if she was reasonable, but since she had chosen to bring +Ledgard into it, she should pay. After all, she was only a woman, and +you can always frighten a woman if you go the right way about it. It was +damned bad luck that Ledgard should have turned up just now. It was +Ledgard he'd got to thank that Fay had made that infamously unjust will +by which she left the remnant of her money to her children and not to +her husband. Oh yes! he'd a lot to thank Ledgard for. Well, he wouldn't +like it when Jan got hurt. Ledgard was odd about women. He couldn't +bear to see them worried; he couldn't bear to see Fay worried, +interfered then. A blank, blank, blank interfering chap, Ledgard was. +_What Jan needed was a real good scare._ + +They suggested Guernsey. Well, he'd go to Guernsey, and he wouldn't go +alone. Hugo thoroughly enjoyed a plot. The twilight world that had been +so difficult and perplexing to poor Fay had for him a sort of exciting +charm. Wren's End had become dreadfully dull. For the first week or two, +while he felt so ill, it had been restful. Now its regular hours and +ordered tranquillity were getting on his nerves. All those portraits of +his wife, too, worried him. He could go into no room where the lovely +face, with youth's wistful wonder as to what life held, did not confront +him with a reminder that the wife he had left to die in Bombay did not +look in the least like that. + +There were few things in his life save miscalculation that he regretted. +But he did feel uncomfortable when he remembered Fay--so trustful +always, so ready to help him in any difficulty. People liked her; even +women liked her in spite of her good looks, and Hugo had found the world +a hard, unfriendly place since her death. + +The whole thing was getting on his nerves. It was time to shuffle the +cards and have a new deal. + +He packed his suit-case which had been so empty when he arrived, and +waited for a day when Peter had taken Jan, Meg and the children for a +motor run to a neighbouring town. He took care to see that Earley was +duly busy in the kitchen garden, and the maids safely at the back of the +house. Then he carried it to the lodge gate himself and waited for a +passing tradesman's cart. Fortune favoured him; the butcher came up with +(had Hugo known it) veal cutlets for Hugo's own dinner. Hugo tipped the +butcher and asked him to leave the suit-case at the station to be sent +on as carted luggage to its address. + +Next morning he learned that Tony was to go with Earley to fetch extra +cream from Mr. Burgess' farm. + +It was unfortunate that he couldn't get any of Tony's clothes without +causing comment. He had tried the day before, but beyond a jersey and +two little vests (which happened to be little Fay's), he had been unable +to find anything. Well, Jan would be glad enough to send Tony's clothes +when he let her know where they were to be sent. Tony had changed a good +deal from the silent, solemn child he had disliked in India. He was +franker and more talkative. Sometimes Hugo felt that the child wasn't +such a bad little chap, after all. But the very evident understanding +between Jan and Tony filled Hugo with a dull sort of jealousy. He had +never tried to win the child, but nevertheless he resented the fact that +Tony's attitude to Jan and Meg was one of perfect trust and +friendliness. He never looked at them with the strange judging, weighing +look that Hugo hated so heartily. + +He strolled into the drive and waited. Meg and Jan were busy in the +day-nursery, making the little garments that were outgrown so fast. +Little Fay was playing on the Wren's lawn and singing to herself: + + The fox went out one moonlight night, + And he played to the moon to give him light, + For he had a long way to tlot that night + Before he could leach his den-oh. + +Hugo listened for a minute. What a clear voice the child had. He would +like to have taken little Fay, but already he stood in wholesome awe of +his daughter. She could use her thoroughly sound lungs for other +purposes than song, and she hadn't the smallest scruple about drawing +universal attention to any grievance. Now Tony would never make a scene. +Hugo recognised and admired that quality in his queer little son. He did +not know that Tony already ruled his little life by a categorical +imperative of things a sahib must not do. + +At the drive gate he met Earley carrying the can of cream, with Tony +trotting by his side. + +"I'm going into the village, Tony, and Auntie Jan says you may as well +come with me for company. Will you come?" + +Tony looked dubious. Still, he remembered that Auntie Jan had said he +must try and be kind to poor Daddie, who had been so ill and was so sad. + +"All right," he said with a little sigh, and took the hand Hugo held +out. + +"He'll be quite safe with me, Earley," Hugo said with a pleasant smile. +"Miss Ross knows I'm going to take him." + +Nevertheless Earley went to the back door and asked Hannah to inform her +mistress that "Mr. Tancred had taken Mazter Tony along of 'im." + +Hannah was busy, and serene in her conception of Hugo as the sorrowing +widower, did not think the fact that Tony had gone for a walk with his +own father was worth a journey to the day-nursery. + +"How would you like a ride down to the junction?" Hugo said. "I believe +we could just catch a train if we take the omnibus at 'The Green Hart.' +I want to make inquiries about something for Auntie Jan." + +Tony loved trains; he had only been twice to the junction since he came +to Wren's End; it was a fascinating place. Daddie seemed in an agreeable +mood this morning. Auntie Jan would be pleased that he should be nice to +him. + +It all fell out as if the fates had arranged things for Hugo. They saw +very few people in the village; only one old woman accompanied them in +the bus; he heard his father ask for a ticket to the junction, and they +arrived without incident of any kind. + +The junction, however, was busy. There were quite a lot of people, and +when Hugo went to the ticket-office he had to stand in a queue of others +while Tony waited outside the long row. + +Suddenly Tony began to wonder why his father should go to the +ticket-office at all to inquire for a parcel. Tony was observant, and +just because everything was so different from things in India small +incidents were impressed upon his mind. If his father was going on +anywhere else, he wasn't going; for Peter had promised to take them out +in his car again that afternoon. When Hugo reached the window of the +ticket-office Tony heard something about Paddington. + +That decided him. Nothing would induce him to go to Paddington. + +He pushed his way among the crowd and ran for dear life up the stairs, +and over the bridge to the other platform where the train for Amber +Guiting was still waiting, lonely and deserted. He knew that train. It +went up and down all day, for Amber Guiting was the terminus. No one was +on the platform as he ran along. With the sure instinct of the hunted he +passed the carriages with their shut doors. Right at the end was a van +with empty milk-cans. He had seen a porter putting them in the moment +the train stopped. Tony darted into the van and crouched down between +the milk-cans and the wall. He thought of getting into one of them. The +story of Morgiana and the Forty Thieves was clear in his mind, for Meg +had told it to them the night before. But the cans were so high and +narrow he decided that it was impossible. Someone slammed the door of +the van. There came a bump and a jar, and the train moved out onto a +siding till it should go back to Amber Guiting when the 1.30 from London +came in. Tony sat quite still in the dark, stuffy van. His little heart +was beating with hammer strokes against his ribs, but his face expressed +nothing but scorn. + +Again his father had lied to him. Again he had said he was going to do +one thing when he fully intended to do another. The pleasantness, the +kindliness, the apparent desire for Tony's society were a cheat. Tony +spoke rapidly to himself in Hindustani, and by the time he had finished +expressing his views Hugo Tancred hadn't a shred of character left. + +He didn't know when the train would go back to Amber Guiting. It might +not be till evening. Tony could wait. Some time it would go back, and +once in that dear, safe place all would be well. + +He disliked the sound of Paddington; it had to do with London, he knew. +He didn't mind London, but he wasn't going there with his father, and no +Meg and no Jan and no little Fay and no kind sahibs who were _real_ +sahibs. + +He was very hungry, and his eyes grew a bit misty as he thought of +little Fay consuming scones and milk at the "elevens" Meg was always so +careful they should have. + +A new and troubling thought perturbed him. Did Auntie Jan know he had +gone at all? Would she be frightened? Would she get that look on her +dear face that he couldn't bear to see? That Auntie Jan loved them both +with her whole heart was now one of the fixed stars in Tony's firmament +of beliefs. He began to think that perhaps it would be better for Auntie +Jan to give his father some of her twinkly things and let him go away +and leave them in peace; but he dismissed that thought as cowardly and +unworthy of a sahib. + +Oh, dear! it was very long sitting in the dark, scrunched up behind +those cans. He must tell himself stories to pass the time; and he +started to relate the interminable legend of Cocky-locky and Henny-Penny +who by their superior subtlety evaded the snares set for them by +Toddy-Loddy the fox. He felt a sort of kinship with those harried fowls. +Gradually the constant repetition of the various other birds involved, +"Juckie-Puckie, Goosie-Loosie, Turkey-lurkey and Swannie-Lonnie," had a +soothing effect, and Tony fell asleep. + + * * * * * + +Meanwhile Hugo had hunted through every corner of the four platforms; he +had even gone to look for the Amber Guiting train, but was told it +always was moved on to a siding directly it had discharged its +passengers. + +It was mysterious, it was profoundly annoying, but it was not, to Hugo, +alarming. He suspected that Peter Ledgard was in some way mixed up in +it; that he, himself, had been shadowed and that Peter had stolen Tony +in the crowd. In his mistrustful wrath he endowed Peter with such +abnormal foresight and acumen as he certainly did not possess. + +It really was an impossible situation. Hugo could not go about asking +porters and people for a lost child, or the neighbourhood would be +roused. He couldn't go back to Wren's End without Tony, or there would +be the devil to pay. He even got a porter to look in every carriage of +the side-tracked train for a mythical despatch-case, and accompanied him +in his search. Naturally they didn't seek a despatch-case in the van. + +He had lost his train, but there was another, very slow, about +three-quarters of an hour later, and this he decided to take. He would +telegraph to Jan from London. Somehow he was not in the least concerned +about the fate of Tony. Peter and Peter's car had something to do with +this mysterious disappearance. He was sure of that. + +Well, if this particular deal had failed, he must shuffle the cards and +deal again. In any case Jan should see that where his children were +concerned he was not to be trifled with. + +He was sorry, though, he had bought the half-ticket for Tony, and to ask +them to take it back might cause comment. + +As the slow train steamed out from the junction Hugo felt a very +ill-used man. + + * * * * * + +At eleven o'clock Anne Chitt brought in the tray with two cups of milk +and a plate of Hannah's excellent scones. + +"Please go into the kitchen garden and ask Master Tony to come for his +lunch," Jan said. + +Presently Anne returned. "Master Tony ain't in the garden, miss; and +'Annah says as 'e most likely ain't back yet, miss." + +"Back! Back from where?" + +"Please, miss, 'Annah says as 'is pa've took him with him down the +village." + +Jan laid her sewing on the table and got up. + +"Is Earley in the garden?" + +"Yes, miss. I ast Earley an' 'e says the same as 'Annah. Mr. Tancred +'ave took Master Tony with 'im." + +Anne went away, and Jan and Meg, who had stopped her machining to +listen, stared at each other across the table. + +"I suppose they'll be back directly," Jan said uneasily. "I'll go and +ask Earley when Hugo took Tony." + +"He got up to breakfast to-day for the first time," Meg remarked +irrelevantly. + +Jan went out into the Wrens' garden and through Anthony's gate. She +fumbled at the catch, for her hands trembled. + +Earley was picking peas. + +"What time did Mr. Tancred take Master Tony?" she asked. + +"Just as we got back from fetchin' the cream, miss. I should say as it +was about 'alf-past nine. He did meet us at the lodge, and took the +young gentleman with 'im for company--'e said so." + +"Thank you, Earley," Jan said quietly. + +Earley looked at her and over his broad, good-natured face there passed +a shade of misgiving. "I did tell Hannah to let you know the minute I +cum in, miss." + +"Thank you," Jan said again; "that's quite right." + +"Be you feelin' the 'eat, miss?" Earley asked anxiously. "I don't think +as you ought to be out without an 'at." + +"No, I expect not. I'll go and get one." + +By lunch time there was still no sign of Hugo and Tony; and Jan was +certainly as much scared as even Hugo could have wished. + +Meg had been down to the village and discovered that Hugo and Tony had +gone by bus to the junction in time for the 10.23. + +Peter was playing golf with Squire Walcote on a little course he had +made in some of his fields. It was impossible to go and hunt for Peter +without giving away the whole situation, and Jan was loth to do that. + +She and Meg stared at one another in dismayed impotence. + +Jan ordered the pony-carriage; she would drive to the junction, leaving +a note for Peter at "The Green Hart," but it was only too likely he +would lunch with the Walcotes. + +"You must eat something," said Meg. "There's a train in at a quarter to +two; you'd better meet that before you go to the junction; the guard +might be able to tell you something." + +At lunch little Fay wept because there was no Tony. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +IN WHICH SEVERAL PEOPLE SPEAK THEIR MINDS + + +"After all, you know," Meg said, with intent to comfort, "no great harm +can happen to Tony. Hugo will only take the child a little way off, to +see what he can get out of you." + +"It's the moral harm to Tony that I mind," Jan answered sadly. "He was +getting so happy and trustful, so much more like other children. I know +his father has got him to go away by some ruse, and he will be miserable +and embittered because he has been cheated again." + +"Shall you drive to the junction if you hear nothing at the station?" + +"Yes, I think so, though I've little hope of learning anything there. +You see, people come there from three directions. They couldn't possibly +notice everybody as they do at a little station like this." + +"Wait," said Meg, "don't go to the junction. Have you forgotten Mr. +Ledgard was to fetch us all at half-past two? He'll run you over in his +car in a quarter the time you'd take to go with Placid, and be some use +as well. You'd better come straight back here if you get no news, and +I'll keep him till you get back if he turns up first." + +By this time the pony-cart was at the door. Meg helped Jan in, kissed +her, and whispered, "Cheer up; I feel somehow you'll hear something," +and Jan drove off. She found a boy to hold the pony when she reached the +station, and went in. The old porter was waiting for the train, and she +asked if he happened to notice her little nephew that morning. + +"Yes, miss, I did see 'un along with a holder gentleman unbeknownst to +me." + +Jan walked up and down in an agony of doubt and apprehension. + +The train came in. There were but few passengers, and among them was +Miles, come down again for the week-end. + +He greeted Jan with effusion. Had she come to meet anyone, or was it a +parcel? + +To his astonishment Miss Ross broke from him and rushed at the guard +right up at the far end of the train. + +The guard evidently disclaimed all knowledge of the parcel, for Miles +saw him shaking his head vigorously. + +"Any other luggage, sir?" asked the old porter, lifting out Miles' +suit-case. + +"Yes, a box of rods in the van." + +The old porter went to the end of the train near where Jan had been to +the guard three minutes before. + +He opened the van door and nearly tumbled backward in astonishment, for +right in the doorway, blinking at the light, stood "Miss Rass' young +gen'leman." + +"Well, I am blessed!" exclaimed the porter, and lifted him out. + +Tony was dreadfully dirty. The heat, the dust, the tears he had shed +when he woke up with the putting in of luggage at the junction and +couldn't understand what had happened to him, all combined to make him +about the most miserable-looking and disreputable small boy you could +imagine. He had left his hat behind the milk-cans. + +Jan had gone out of the station. She had passed Miles blindly, and her +face caused that young man to whistle softly, just once. Then he dashed +after her. + +"Your haunt bin askin' for you," the old porter said to Tony. "'Peared +to me she was a bit worried-like." + +Tony moved stiffly down the little station, the old porter following +with Miles' luggage on a truck. + +The ticket-collector stood in the doorway. Tony, of course, had none. +"Don't you say nothin'," whispered the old porter. "'Is haunt'll make it +good; there's some sort of a misteree." + +Tony felt queer and giddy. Jan, already in her little pony-trap, had +started to drive away. Miles, waiting for his baggage beside his uncle's +car, saw the dejected little figure appear in the station entrance. + +He let fly a real barrack-square bellow after Jan, and she pulled up. + +She looked back and saw the reason for Captain Middleton's amazing roar. + +She swung the indignant Placid round, and in two minutes she was out of +the pony-trap and had Tony in her strong arms. + +Miles tipped the porter and drove off. He, too, realised that there was +some sort of a "misteree," something painful and unpleasant for Miss +Ross, and that she would probably prefer that no questions were asked. + +Whatever mischief could that young Tony have been after? And dared Miles +call at Wren's End that evening, in the hope of a glimpse of Meg, or +would it look inquisitive and ill-bred? + +Placid turned a mild, inquiring head to discover the reason for this new +delay. + +When Jan, after paying Tony's fare back from the junction, had driven +away, the old porter, the ticket-collector, and the station-master sat +in conclave on the situation. And their unanimous conclusion was summed +up by the old porter: "Byes be a mishtiful set of young varmints, an' it +warn't no job for a lone 'ooman to 'ave to bring 'em up." + +The lone woman in question held her reins in one hand and her other arm +very tightly round the dirty little boy on the seat beside her. + +As they drove through the village neither of them spoke, but when they +reached the Wren's End Road, Tony burst into tears. + +"I _am_ so hungry," he wailed, "and I feel so nasty in my inside." + + * * * * * + +As Meg was putting him to bed that night she inquired if he had done +anything with his green jersey, for she couldn't find it. + +"No," Tony answered. "I haven't had it for a long time--it's been too +warm." + +"It's very odd," said Meg. "It has disappeared, and so have two vests +of little Fay's that I put in the nursery ottoman to mend. Where can +they be? I hate to lose things; it seems so untidy." + +"I 'spect," said Tony, thoughtfully, "my Daddie took them. He'd never +leave without takin somefin." + + * * * * * + +There was a dinner-party at the Manor House. Peter had come down from +town for it, and this time he was staying at Wren's End. Lady Penelope +and her husband were to dine and sleep at the Manor, likewise Miles, who +had come down with Peter; and Lady Pen contrived thoroughly to upset her +aunt before dinner, by relating how she had met Miles with Miss Morton +and her father in Cheltenham. And poor Lady Mary had been hoping that +the unfortunate affair would die a natural death. She had asked the +prettiest girl in the neighbourhood for Miles to take in, and now, +looking down the table at him, she would have said he was as +well-pleased with his neighbour as any young man could be. The Freams +were there and Mr. Withells, the pretty girl's mamma and a bride and +bridegroom--fourteen in all. A dangerous number to ask, the Squire had +declared; one might so easily have fallen through. No one did, however, +and Peter found himself allotted to Lady Penelope, while Jan's fate was +the bridegroom. "His wife won't be jealous of Miss Ross, you know," Lady +Mary had said while arranging her couples. + +It happened that Peter sat opposite to Jan, and he surveyed her across +the sweet-peas with considerable satisfaction. He had never seen Jan in +what her niece bluntly called "a nekked dless" before. To-night she wore +black, in some soft, filmy stuff from which her fine arms and shoulders +and beautiful neck stood out in challenging whiteness. Her hair, too, +had "pretty twinkly things" in it, and she wore a long chain of small +but well-matched pearls, her father's last gift to her. Yes, Jan was +undoubtedly distinguished, and oh, thank heaven! she _had_ a clean face. + +Beautiful Lady Pen was painted to the eyes, and her maid was not quite +skilful in blending her complexion rightly with her vivid hair; +beautiful hair it was, with a large ripple that was most attractive, but +Mr. Withells, sitting on the other side of Lady Pen, decided that he +didn't approve of her. She was flamboyant and daring of speech. She made +him nervous. He felt sincerely sorry for Pottinger. + +Peter found Lady Pen very amusing, and perhaps she rather neglected her +other neighbour. + +The dinner was excellent and long; and after it the ladies, when they +left the men to smoke, strolled about on the terrace, and Jan found +herself side by side with Lady Penelope. + +"How's your little friend?" she asked abruptly. "I suppose you know my +cousin's playin' round?" + +Jan was a little taller than Lady Pen, and turned her head slowly to +look at her: "I'm afraid I don't quite understand," she said. + +"Surely," Lady Pen retorted, "you must have seen." + +"If you mean that Captain Middleton admires Miss Morton, I believe he +does. But you see, to say that anyone is 'playing round' rather reflects +on me, because she is in my charge." + +"I should say you've got a pretty good handful," Lady Pen said +sympathetically. + +"I don't think you quite understand Miss Morton. I've known her, as it +happens, known her well, for close upon nine years." + +"And you think well of her?" + +"It would be difficult to express how well." + +"You're a good friend, Miss Ross. I had occasion to think so once +before--now I'm pretty sure of it. What's the sayin'--'Time tryeth +thingummy'?" + +"Troth?" Jan suggested. + +"That's it. 'Time tryeth troth.' I never was any good at quotations and +things. But now, look here, I'd like to ask you somethin' rather +particular ..." Lady Pen took Jan's arm and propelled her gently down a +side-walk out of earshot of the others. "Suppose you knew folks--and +they weren't exactly friends, but pleasant, you know, and all that, and +you were aware that they went about sayin' things about a third person +who also wasn't exactly a friend, but ... well, likeable; and you +believed that what the first lot said gave a wrong impression ... in +short, was very damaging--none of it any business of yours, mind--would +you feel called upon to do anything?" + +The two tall women stopped and faced one another. + +The moon shone full on Lady Pen's beautiful painted face, and Jan saw, +for the first time, that the eyes under the delicately darkened eyebrows +were curiously like Miles'. + +"It's always tiresome to interfere in other people's business," said +Jan, "but it's not quite fair, is it, not to stand up for people if you +believe an accusation to be untrue--whether you like them or not. You +see, it may be such a serious thing for the person implicated." + +"I believe you're right," said Lady Pen, "but oh, lord! what a worry it +will be." + +Lady Mary called to them to come, for the bride was going to sing. + +The bride's singing was not particularly pleasing, and she was followed +by Miles, who performed "Drake's Drum," to his aunt's rather uncertain +accompaniment, in a voice that shook the walls. Poor Mr. Withells fled +out by the window, and sat on the step on his carefully-folded +handkerchief, but even so the cold stones penetrated, and he came in +again. + +And after "Drake's Drum" it was time to go home. + +Jan and Peter walked back through the scented night, Peter carrying her +slippers in a silk bag, for the sternly economical Meg wouldn't hear of +wasting good suède slippers at 22s. 6d. a pair by walking half a mile in +them, no matter how dry it was. + +When all the guests had gone, Lady Pen seized Miles by the arm and +implored him to take her outside for a cigarette. "That little Withells +had given her the hump." + +Lady Mary said it was bed-time and the servants wanted to lock up. The +Squire and Mr. Pottinger melted away imperceptibly to smoke in peace +elsewhere. + +Lady Pen, still holding Miles in an iron grip, pulled him over to the +door, which she shut, led him back, and stood in front of Lady Mary, who +was just going to ring for the servants to shut the windows. + +"Wait a minute, Aunt Mary. I've got somethin' to say, and I want to say +it before Miles." + +"Oh, don't let us go into all that to-night," Lady Mary implored, "if +what you have to say has anything to do with what you told me before +dinner." + +"It has and it hasn't. One thing I've decided is that I've got to tell +the Trents they are liars; and the other thing is that, though I +disapprove with all my strength of the game Miles is playing, I believe +that little girl is square...." + +"You see," Lady Pen went on, turning to Miles, "I've repeated things to +Aunt Mary that I heard from the Trents lately--but I heard a different +story at the time--and though I think you, Miles, are throwing yourself +away, I won't be a party to spreadin' lies. Somethin' that _poudrée_ +woman with the good skin said to-night made me feel a swab----" + +"I'm glad you've spoken up like this, Pen," Miles said slowly, "for if +you hadn't, we couldn't have been friends any more. I promised Meg I +wouldn't tell anybody--but I've asked her to marry me ... and though she +isn't over keen, I believe I'll get her to do it some day." + +"Isn't over keen?" Lady Mary repeated indignantly. "Why, she ought to be +down on her knees with joy!" + +Miles laughed. "She's not a kneeling sort, Aunt Mary. It's I who'll have +to do the kneeling, I can tell you." + +Lady Pen was looking straight at her cousin with the beautiful candid +eyes that were so like his own. "Just for curiosity," she said slowly, +"I'd dearly like to know if Meg Morton ever said anything to you about +me--anything rather confidential--I won't be offended, I'd just like to +know." + +"About you?" Miles echoed in a puzzled voice. + +"About my appearance, you know--my looks." + +"I think she called you good-looking, like everybody else, but I don't +remember that she was specially enthusiastic. To tell you the honest +truth, Pen, we've had other things to talk about than you." + +"Now listen, you two," said Lady Pen. "That little girl is straight. You +won't understand, Miles, but Aunt Mary will. Meg Morton knew I was +against her--about you, Miles--women always know these things. And yet +she held her tongue when she could have said something true that I'd +rather not have talked about. You'll hold your tongue, old chap, and so +will Aunt Mary. I've got her hair; got it on this minute. That's why +she's such a croppy." + +Lady Mary sat down on the nearest chair and sighed deeply. + +"It's been a real satisfaction to me, this transformation, because I +know where it came from." + +Miles took his cousin's hand and kissed it. "If somebody had to have it, +I'm glad it's you," he said. + +"Yes, she's straight," Lady Pen repeated. "I don't believe there's many +girls who would have kept quiet--not when the man they cared about was +being got at. You may ring now, Aunt Mary. I'm through. Good night." + + * * * * * * * * + +"Do you realise," said Peter as they turned out of the dark Manor drive +into the moonlit road, "that I've been here on and off over a month, and +that we are now nearly at the end of July?" + +"You've only just come to _us_," said Jan. "You can't count the time you +stayed at 'The Green Hart' as a visit." + +"And now I have come ... I'm not quite sure I've done wisely, +unless...." + +"Unless what?" + +"Unless I can put something through that I came back from India to do." + +Jan did not answer. They walked on in silence, and Peter looked at the +moon. + +"I think," he said, "you've always had a pretty clear idea why I came +home from India ... haven't you?" + +"It was time for your leave," Jan said nervously. "It isn't good to +stay out there too long." + +"I shouldn't have taken leave this year, though, if it hadn't been for +you." + +"You've always been kind and helpful to me ... I hope it hasn't been +very ... inconvenient." + +Peter laughed, and stopped in the middle of the road. + +"I'm fond of fencing," he said lightly, "and free play's all very well +and pretty; but I've always thought that the real thing, with the +buttons off the foils, must have been a lot more sport than anything we +get now." + +Again Jan was silent. + +"You've fenced with me, Jan," he said slowly, "ever since I turned up +that day unexpectedly. Now, I want a straight answer. Do you care at +all, or have you only friendship for me? Look at me; tell me the truth." + +"It's all so complicated and difficult," she faltered, and her eyes fell +beneath Peter's. + +"What is?" + +"This caring--when you aren't a free agent." + +"Free fiddlestick! You either care or you don't--which is it?" + +"I care a great deal too much for my own peace of mind," said Jan. + +"I am quite satisfied," said Peter. And if Mr. Withells had seen what +happened to the "sensible" Miss Ross just then, his neatly-brushed hair +would have stood straight on end. + +In the road, too! + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +AUGUST, 1914 + + +"No," said Jan, "it would be like marrying a widow ... with +encumbrances." + +"But you don't happen to be a widow--besides, if you were, and had a +dozen encumbrances, if we want to get married it's nobody's business but +our own." + +Peter spoke testily. He wanted Jan to marry him before he went back to +India in October, and if he got the billet he hoped for, to follow him, +taking the two children out, early in November. + +But Jan saw a thousand lions in the way. She was pulled in this +direction and that, and though she knew she had got to depend on Peter +to--as she put it--"a dreadful extent," yet she hesitated to saddle him +with her decidedly explosive affairs, without a great deal more +consideration than he seemed disposed to allow her. + +Hugo, for the present, was quiet. He was in Guernsey with his people, +and beyond a letter in which he directly accused Peter Ledgard of +abducting Tony when his father was taking him to visit his grandparents, +Jan had heard nothing. + +By Peter's advice she did not answer this letter. But they both knew +that Hugo was only waiting to make some other and more unpleasant +demonstration than the last. + +"You see," Jan began again, "I've got so many people to think of. The +children and Meg and the house and all the old servants.... You mustn't +hustle me, dear." + +"Yes, I see all that; but I've got _you_ to think of, and if we're +married and anything happens to me you'll get your pension, and I want +you to have that." + +"And if anything happened to me, you'd be saddled with the care of two +little children who've got a thoroughly unsatisfactory father, who can +always make life hateful for them and for you. No, Peter, it wouldn't be +fair--we must wait and see how things work out." + +"At present," Peter said gloomily, "it looks as if things were working +out to a fair bust-up all round." + +This was on the 30th of July. + +Peter went up to London, intending to return on the first to stay over +the Bank Holiday, but he did not come. He wanted to be within easy reach +of recalling cablegram. + +Meg got a wire from Miles on Saturday: "Try to come up for to-morrow and +Monday I can't leave town must see you." + +And half an hour after it, came a note from Squire Walcote, asking her +to accept his escort, as he and Lady Mary were going up to the +Grosvenor, and hoped Meg would be their guest. + +It was during their stay in London that Lady Mary and the Squire got the +greatest surprise of their whole lives. + +Miles, looking bigger than ever in uniform, rushed in and demanded an +interview with Meg alone in their private room. He showed her a special +licence, and ordered, rather than requested, that she should marry him +at once. + +"I can't," she said, "it's no use asking me ... I _can't_." + +"Listen; have you any objection to me?" + +Meg pulled a little away from him and pretended to look him up and down. +"No ... in fact ... I love every bit of you--especially your boots." + +"Have you thought how likely it is that I may not come back ... if +there's war?" + +"Don't!" said Meg. "Don't put it into words." + +"Then why won't you marry me, and let me feel that, whether I'm killed +or not, I've had the thing I wanted most in this world?" + +"Dear, I can't help it, but I feel if I married you now ... you would +never come back ... but if I wait ... if I don't try to grasp this +wonderful thing too greedily ... it will come to us both. I _daren't_ +marry you, Miles." + +"Suppose I'm all smashed up ... I couldn't ask you then ... suppose I +come back minus an arm or a leg, or blind or something?" + +"If the least little bit of you comes back, I'll marry that; not you or +anyone else could stop me then." + +"You'd make it easier all round if you'd marry me now...." + +"That's it ... I don't want it to be easier. If I was your wife, how +could I go on being nurse to those children?" + +"I wouldn't stop you--you could go back to Miss Ross and do just +exactly what you're doing. I agree with you--the children are +cheery----" + +Meg shook her head. "No; if I was your wife, it wouldn't do. As it is +... the nursemaid has got her soldier, and that's as it should be." + +"Will you marry me the first leave I get, if I live to get any?" + +"I'll think about that." + +He gave her the ring she had refused before. Such an absurd little ring, +with its one big sapphire set with diamonds, and "no backing to it," +Miles said. + +And he gave her a very heavy brass-studded collar for William, and on +the plate was engraved her name and address. + +"You see," he explained, "Miss Ross would never really have him, and I'd +like to think he was your dog. And here's his licence." + +Then Miles took her right up in his arms and hugged her close, and set +her gently down and left her. + +That night he asked his uncle and a brother-officer to witness his will. +He had left most of his money among his relations, but twenty thousand +pounds he had left to Meg absolutely, in the event of his being killed +before they were married. + +His uncle pointed out that there was nothing said about her possible +marriage. "She'll be all the better for a little money of her own if she +does marry," Miles said simply. "I don't want her to go mourning all her +days, but I do want the capital tied up on her so that he couldn't +waste it ... if he was an unfortunate sort of chap over money." + +The Squire blew his nose. + +"You see," Miles went on, "she's a queer little thing. If I left her too +much, she'd refuse it altogether. Now I trust to you, Uncle Edward, to +see that she takes this." + +"I'll do my best, my boy, I'll do my best," said the Squire; "but I hope +with all my soul you'll make settlements on her yourself before long." + +"So do I, but you never can tell in war, you know. And we must always +remember," Miles added with his broad, cheerful smile, "there's a good +deal of target about me." + +Miles wrote to the little Major, a very manly, straightforward letter, +telling him what he had done, but swearing him to secrecy as regarded +Meg. + +He also wrote to Jan, and at the end, he said, "I am glad she is to be +with you, because you really apreciate her." + +The one "p" in "appreciate" fairly broke Jan down. It was so like Miles. + +Meg, white-faced and taciturn, went back to Wren's End on Tuesday night. +The Squire and Lady Mary remained in town. + +In answer to Jan's affectionate inquiries, Meg was brief and +business-like. Yes; she had seen Miles several times. He was very busy. +No, she did not expect to see him again before ... he left. Yes; he was +going with the First Army. + +Jan asked no more questions, but was quietly, consistently kind. Meg +was adorable with her children and surpassed herself in the telling of +stories. + +The First Army left England for Flanders with the silence of a shadow. + +But Meg knew when it left. + +That night, Jan woke about one o'clock, conscious of a queer sound that +she could neither define nor locate. + +She sat up in bed to listen, and arrived at the conclusion that it came +from the day-nursery, which was below her room. + +Tony was sleeping peacefully. Jan put on her dressing-gown and went +downstairs. The nursery door was not shut, and a shaft of light shone +through it into the dark hall. She pushed it open a little way and +looked in. + +Meg was sitting at the table, making muslin curtains as if her life +depended on it. She wore her nightgown, and over it a queer little +Japanese kimono of the green she loved. Her bare feet were pillowed upon +William, who lay snoring peacefully under the table. + +Her face was set and absorbed. A grave, almost stern, little face. And +her rumpled hair, pushed back from her forehead, gave her the look of a +Botticelli boy angel. It seemed to merge into tongues of flame where the +lamplight caught it. + +The window was wide open and the sudden opening of the door caused a +draught, though the night was singularly still. + +The lamp flickered. + +Meg rested her hand on the handle of the sewing-machine, and the +whirring noise stopped. She saw Jan in the doorway. + +"Dear," said Jan gently, standing where she was, half in and half out of +the door, "are you obliged to do this?" + +Meg looked at her, and the dumb pain in that look went to Jan's heart. + +Jan came towards her and drew the flaming head against her breast. + +"I'm sorry I disturbed you," Meg murmured, "but I was _obliged_ to do +something." + +William stirred at the voices, and turning his head tried to lick the +little bare feet resting on his back. + +"Dearest, I really think you should go back to bed." + +"Very well," said Meg meekly. "I'll go now." + +"He," Jan continued, "would be very angry if he thought you were making +curtains in the middle of the night." + +"He," Meg retorted, "is absurd--and dear beyond all human belief." + +"You see, he left you in my charge ... what will he say if--when he +comes back--he finds a haggard Meg with a face like a threepenny-bit +that has seen much service?" + +"All right, I'm coming." + +When Meg got back to her room, she went and leaned over little Fay +sleeping in the cot beside her bed. Rosy and beautiful, warm and +fragrant, the healthy baby brought comfort to Meg's stricken heart. + +Perhaps--who knows--the tramp of that silent army sounded in little +Fay's ears, for she stretched out her dimpled arms and caught Meg round +the neck. + +"Deah Med!" she sighed, and was still. + +William stood at attention. + +Presently Meg knelt down by her bed, and according to the established +ritual he thrust his head into her encircling arm. + +"Pray for your master, William," Meg whispered. "Oh, William, pray for +your master as you never prayed before." + + * * * * * * * * + +The strange tense days went on in August weather serene and lovely as +had not been seen for years. Young men vanished from the country-side +and older men wistfully wondered what they could do to help. + +Peter came down from Saturday to Monday, telling them that every officer +and every civilian serving in India was recalled, but he had not yet +learned when he was to sail. + +They were sitting in the wrens' garden with the children. + +"Earley's going," Tony said importantly. + +"Earley!" Jan exclaimed. "Going where?" + +"To fight, of course," little Fay chimed in. + +"Oh, poor dear Earley!" Jan sighed. + +"Happy, fortunate Earley," said Peter. "I wish I stood in his shoes." + +Earley joined the Gloucesters because, he said, "he couldn't abear to +think of them there Germans comin' anigh Mother and them childring and +the ladies; and he'd better go and see as they didn't." + +Mr. Withells called the men on his place together and told them that +every man who joined would have his wages paid to his wife, and his wife +or his mother, as the case might be, could stop on in her cottage. And +Mr. Withells became a special constable, with a badge and a truncheon. +But he worried every soldier that he knew with inquiries as to whether +there wasn't a chance for him in _some_ battalion: "I've taken great +care of my health," he said. "I do exercises every day after my bath; +I'm young-looking for my age, don't you think? And anyway, a bullet +might find me instead of a more useful man." + +No one laughed then at Mr. Withells and his exercises. + +Five days after the declaration of war Jan got a letter from Hugo +Tancred. He was in London and was already a private in a rather famous +cavalry regiment. + +"They didn't ask many questions," he wrote, "so I hadn't to tell many +lies. You see, I can ride well and understand horses. If I get knocked +out, it won't be much loss, and I know you'll look after Fay's kiddies. +If I come through, perhaps I can make a fresh start somewhere. I've +always been fond of a gamble, and this is the biggest gamble I've ever +struck." + +Jan showed the letter to Peter, who gave it back to her with something +like a groan: "Even the wrong 'uns get their chance, and yet I have to +go back and do a deadly dull job, just because it _is_ my job." + +Peter went up to town and two days after came down again to "The Green +Hart" to say good-bye. He had got his marching orders and was to sail in +the _Somali_ from Southampton. Some fifteen hundred civilians and +officers serving in India were sailing by that boat and the _Dongola_. + +By every argument he could bring forward he tried to get Jan to marry +him before he sailed. Yet just because she wanted to do it so much, she +held back. She, too, she kept telling herself, had her job, and she knew +that if she was Peter's wife, nothing, not even her dear Fay's children, +could be of equal importance with Peter. + +The children and Meg and the household had by much thinking grown into a +sort of Frankenstein's monster of duty. + +Her attitude was incomprehensible to Peter. It seemed to him to be +wrong-headed and absurd, and he began to lose patience with her. + +On his last morning he sought and found her beside the sun-dial in the +wrens' garden. + +Meg had taken little Fay to see Lady Mary's Persian kittens, but Tony +preferred to potter about the garden with the aged man who was trying to +replace Earley. William was not allowed to call upon the kittens, as +Fatima, their mother, objected to him vehemently, and Tony cared to go +nowhere if William might not be of the party. + +Peter came to Jan and took both her hands and held them. + +"It's the last time I shall ask you, my dear. If you care enough, we +can have these last days together. If you don't I must go, for I can't +bear any more of this. Either you love me enough to marry me before I +sail or you don't love me at all. Which is it?" + +"I do love you, you know I do." + +"Well, which is it to be?" + +"Peter, dear, you must give me more time. I haven't really faced it all. +I can't do anything in such a hurry as that." + +Peter looked at her and shook his head. + +"You don't know what caring is," he said. "I can't stand any more of +this. Do you see that motto on the sun-dial: 'I bide my time'--I've read +it and read it, and I've said it over to myself and waited and hoped to +move you. Now I can't wait any more." + +He kissed her, dropped her hand, and turning from her went out through +the iron gate and down the drive. For a moment Jan stood by the sun-dial +as though she, too, were stone. + +Then blindly she went up the steps into the empty nursery and sat down +on an old sofa far back in the room. She leaned face-downward against +the cushions, and great, tearing sobs broke from her. + +Peter was gone. He would never come back. She had driven him from her. +And having done so she realised that he was the one person in the world +she could not possibly do without. + +Tony's own hen had laid an egg. Carrying it very carefully in a +cabbage-leaf, he went, accompanied by the faithful William, to show it +to Auntie Jan, and was just in time to see Peter going down the drive. + +He went through the wrens' garden and in by the window. For a moment he +didn't see his aunt; and was turning to go again when a strange sound +arrested him, and he saw her all huddled up at the head of the sofa, +with hidden face and heaving shoulders. + +He laid his egg on the table and went and pulled at her arm. + +"What is the matter?" he asked anxiously. "And why has Peter gone?" + +Jan raised her head; pride and shame and self-consciousness were dead in +her: "He's gone," she sobbed. "He won't come back, and I shall never be +happy any more," and down went her head again on her locked arms. + +Tony did not attempt to console her. He ran from the room, and Jan felt +that this was only an added pang of abandonment. + +Down the drive ran Tony, with William galumphing beside him. But William +was not happy, and squealed softly from time to time. He felt it unkind +to leave a poor lady crying like that, and yet was constrained to go +with Tony because Meg had left him in William's charge. + +Tony turned out of the gate and into the road. + +Far away in the distance was a man's figure striding along with +incredible swiftness. Tony started to run all he knew. Now, seldom as +William barked, he barked when people ran, and William's bark was so +deep and sonorous and distinctive that it caused the swiftly striding +man to turn his head. He turned his body, too, and came back to meet +Tony and William. + +Tony was puffed and almost breathless, but he managed to jerk out: "You +must go back; she's ... crying dreadful. You _must_ go back. Go quick; +don't wait for us." + +Peter went. + + * * * * * + +Jan very rarely cried. When she did it hurt fiercely and absorbed all +her attention. She was crying now as if she would never stop. If people +seldom cry it has a devastating effect on their appearance when they do. +Jan's eyelids were swollen, her nose scarlet and shiny, her features all +bleared and blurred and almost scarred by tears. + +Someone touched her gently on the shoulder, and she looked up. + +"My dear," said Peter, "you must not cry like this. I was losing my +temper--that's why I went off." + +Jan sprang to her feet and flung her arms round his neck. She pressed +her ravaged face against his: "I'll do anything you like," she +whispered, "if you'll only like it. I can't stand by myself any more." + +This was true, for as she spoke her knees gave under her. + +Peter held her close. Never had Jan looked less attractive and never had +Peter loved her more, or realised so clearly how dear and foolish and +wise and womanly she was. + +"You see," she sobbed, "you said yourself everyone _must_ do his job, +and I thought----" + +"But surely," said Peter, "I _am_ your job--part of it, anyway." + +Jan sobbed now more quietly, with her head against his shoulder. + +Tony and William came and looked in at the window. + +His aunt was still crying, crying hard, though Peter was there close +beside her, very close indeed. + +Surely this was most unreasonable. + +"She said," Tony remarked accusingly to Peter, "she was crying because +you had gone, so I ran to fetch you back. And now I _have_ fetched you, +she's crying worse nor ever." + +But William Bloomsbury knew better. William had cause to know the +solitary bitter tears that hurt. These tears were different. + +So William wagged his tail and ran into the room, jumping joyously on +Peter and Jan. + + + + +[Transcriber's Note: + + +The following corrections were made: + +p. 44: Daddy to Daddie, to match all other occurrences (Daddie was very +daylight.) + +p. 113: log to long (long grey dust-cloak) + +p. 113: froward to forward (Anthony came forward) + +p. 118: bread-an-butter to bread-and-butter (several pieces of +bread-and-butter) + +p. 152: minunte to minute (pondered this for a minute) + +p. 284: quit to quick ("I came as quick as I could,") + +p. 318: fluttered to flattered (rather flattered) + +Inconsistencies in hyphenation (e.g. country-side vs. countryside) have +not been changed. All dialect and "baby talk" has been left as in the +original. Two different types of thought breaks were used in the +original: extra whitespace between paragraphs (represented by 5 spaced +asterisks in this text) and a line of 8 spaced asterisks (left as in the +original.) Ellipses match the original, even when inconsistent. The +exception is when they occur at the end of a paragraph, where they are +always accompanied by a period.] + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Jan and Her Job, by L. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/29945-0.zip b/29945-0.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..01102de --- /dev/null +++ b/29945-0.zip diff --git a/29945-8.txt b/29945-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2f866bf --- /dev/null +++ b/29945-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11458 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Jan and Her Job, by L. Allen Harker + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Jan and Her Job + +Author: L. Allen Harker + +Release Date: September 9, 2009 [EBook #29945] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JAN AND HER JOB *** + + + + +Produced by Robert Cicconetti, S.D., and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + + + + +JAN AND HER JOB + + + + +[Illustration: "But surely," said Peter, "I _am_ your job--part of it, +anyway."] + + + + +JAN AND HER JOB + +BY + +L. ALLEN HARKER + +AUTHOR OF "A ROMANCE OF THE NURSERY"; "MISS ESPERANCE AND MR. WYCHERLY"; +"MR. WYCHERLY'S WARDS"; "THE FFOLLIOTS OF REDMARLEY," ETC. + +ILLUSTRATED + +NEW YORK + +CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS + +1917 + + +Copyright, 1917, by +Charles Scribner's Sons + +*** + +Published March, 1917 + + + TO + + F. R. P. + + "_Chary of praise and prodigal of counsel-- + Who but thou?_" + R. L. S. + + + + +_CONTENTS_ + + + CHAPTER PAGE + + I. JAN 1 + + II. JAN'S MAIL 13 + + III. BOMBAY 19 + + IV. THE BEGINNING OF THE JOB 39 + + V. THE CHILDREN 52 + + VI. THE SHADOW BEFORE 62 + + VII. THE HUMAN TOUCH 78 + + VIII. THE END OF THE DREAM 91 + + IX. MEG 97 + + X. PLANS 124 + + XI. THE STATE OF PETER 139 + + XII. "THE BEST-LAID SCHEMES" 149 + + XIII. THE WHEELS OF CHANCE 162 + + XIV. PERPLEXITIES 173 + + XV. WREN'S END 184 + + XVI. "THE BLUDGEONINGS OF CHANCE" 201 + + XVII. "THOUGH AN HOST SHOULD ENCAMP AGAINST + ME" 212 + + XVIII. MEG AND CAPTAIN MIDDLETON 220 + + XIX. THE YOUNG IDEA 240 + + XX. "ONE WAY OF LOVE" 252 + + XXI. ANOTHER WAY OF LOVE 261 + + XXII. THE ENCAMPMENT 276 + + XXIII. TACTICS 287 + + XXIV. "THE WAY OF A MAN WITH A MAID" 303 + + XXV. A DEMONSTRATION IN FORCE 325 + + XXVI. IN WHICH SEVERAL PEOPLE SPEAK THEIR MINDS 339 + + XXVII. AUGUST, 1914 351 + + + + +_ILLUSTRATIONS_ + + + "But surely," said Peter, "I _am_ your job--part of it, + anyway" _Frontispiece_ + + FACING + PAGE + + "It would make it easier for both of us if you'd face it, + my dear" 66 + + He washed his small sister with thoroughness and despatch, + pointing out ... that he "went into all the + corners" 156 + + William rushed out to welcome the strangers. Two ... + nice children 188 + + + + +JAN AND HER JOB + +CHAPTER I + +JAN + + +She was something of a puzzle to the other passengers. They couldn't +quite place her. She came on board the P. and O. at Marseilles. Being +Christmas week the boat was not crowded, and she had a cabin to herself +on the spar deck, so there was no "stable-companion" to find out +anything about her. + +The sharp-eyed Australian lady, who sat opposite her at the Purser's +table, decided that she was not married, or even engaged, as she wore no +rings of any kind. Besides, her name, "Miss Janet Ross," figured in the +dinner-list and was plainly painted on her deck-chair. At meals she sat +beside the Purser, and seemed more or less under his wing. People at her +table decided that she couldn't be going out as a governess or she would +hardly be travelling first class, and yet she did not look of the sort +who globe-trot all by themselves. + +Rather tall, slender without being thin, she moved well. Her ringless +hands were smooth and prettily shaped, so were her slim feet, and always +singularly well-shod. + +Perhaps her chief outward characteristic was that she looked +delightfully fresh and clean. Her fair skin helped to this effect, and +the trim suitability of her clothes accentuated it. And yet there was +nothing challenging or particularly noticeable in her personality. + +Her face, fresh-coloured and unlined, was rather round. Her eyes +well-opened and blue-grey, long-sighted and extremely honest. Her hair, +thick and naturally wavy, had been what hairdressers call "mid-brown," +but was now frankly grey, especially round the temples; and the grey +hair puzzled people, so that opinions differed widely regarding her age. + +The five box-wallahs (gentlemen engaged in commercial pursuits are so +named in the East to distinguish them from the Heaven-Born in the +various services that govern India), who, with the Australian lady, sat +opposite to her at table, decided that she was really young and +prematurely grey. Between the courses they diligently took stock of her. +The Australian lady disagreed with them. She declared Miss Ross to be +middle-aged, to look younger than she was. In this the Australian lady +was quite sincere. She could not conceive of any _young_ woman +neglecting the many legitimate means that existed of combating this most +distressing semblance--if semblance it was--of age. + +The Australian lady set her down as a well-preserved forty at least. + +Mr. Frewellen, the oldest and crossest and greediest of the five +box-wallahs, declared that he would lay fifteen rupees to five annas +that she was under thirty; that her eyes were sad, and it was probably +trouble that had turned her hair. At his time of life, he could tell a +young woman when he saw one. No painted old harridan could deceive +_him_. After all, if Miss Ross _had_ grey hair, she had plenty of it, +and it was her own. But Mr. Frewellen, who sat directly opposite her, +was prejudiced in her favour, for she always let him take her roll if it +was browner than his own. He also took her knife if it happened to be +sharper than the one he had, and he insisted on her listening to his +incessant grumbling as to the food, the service, the temperature, and +the general imbecility and baseness of his fellow-creatures. + +Like the Ancient Mariner, he held her with his glittering spectacles. +Miss Ross trembled before his diatribes. He spoke in a loud and rumbling +voice, and made derogatory remarks about the other passengers as they +passed to their respective tables. She would thankfully have changed +hers, but that it might have seemed ungrateful to the Purser, into whose +charge she had been given by friends; and the Purser had been most kind +and attentive. + +The Australian lady was sure that the Purser knew more about Miss Ross +than he would acknowledge--which he did. But when tackled by one +passenger about another, he was discreet or otherwise in direct ratio to +what he considered was the discretion of the questioner. And he was a +pretty shrewd judge of character. He had infinite opportunities of so +judging. A sea-voyage lays bare many secrets and shows up human nature +at its starkest. + +Janet Ross did not seek to make friends, but kindly people who spoke to +her found her pleasant and not in the least disposed to be mysterious +when questioned, though she never volunteered any information about +herself. She was a good listener, and about the middle of any voyage +that is a quality supplying a felt want. Mankind in general finds his +own doings very interesting, and takes great pleasure in recounting the +same. Even the most energetic young passenger cannot play deck-quoits +all day, and mixed cricket matches are too heating to last long once +Aden is left behind. A great many people found it pleasant to drop into +a chair beside the quiet lady, who was always politely interested in +their remarks. She looked so cool and restful in her white frock and +shady hat. She did _not_ buy a solar topee at Port Said, for though this +was her first voyage she had not, it seemed, started quite unwarned. + +In the middle of the Indian Ocean she suddenly found favour in the eyes +of Sir Langham Sykes, and when that was the case Sir Langham proclaimed +his preference to the whole ship. No one who attracted his notice could +remain in obscurity. When he was not eating he was talking, generally +about himself, though he was also fond of asking questions. + +A short, stout man with a red face, little fierce blue eyes, a booming +voice, noisy laugh and a truculent, domineering manner, Sir Langham +made his presence felt wherever he was. + +It was "her shape," as he called it, that first attracted his attention +to Miss Ross, as he watched her walking briskly round and round the +hurricane-deck for her morning constitutional. + +"That woman moves well," he remarked to his neighbour; "wonder if she's +goin' out to be married. Nice-looking woman and pleasant, no frills +about her--sort that would be kind in illness." + +And Sir Langham sighed. He couldn't take any exercise just then, for his +last attack of gout had been very severe, and his left foot was still +swathed and slippered. + +There was a dance that night on the hurricane-deck, and Sir Langham, +while watching the dancers, talked at the top of his voice with the more +important lady passengers. On such occasions he claimed close intimacy +with the Reigning House, and at all times of day one heard such +sentences as, "And _I_ said to the Princess Henrietta," with a full +account of what he did say. And the things he declared he said, and the +stories he told, certainly suggested a doubt as to whether the ladies of +our Royal Family are quite as strait-laced as the ordinary public is led +to believe. But then one had only Sir Langham's word for it. There was +no possibility of questioning the Princess. + +Presently Sir Langham got tired of trying to drown the band--it was such +a noisy band--and he hobbled down the companion on to the almost +deserted deck. Right up in the stern he spied Miss Ross, quite alone, +sitting under an electric light absorbed in a book. Beside her was an +empty chair with a comfortable leg-rest. Sir Langham never made any +bones about interrupting people. It would not, to him, have seemed +possible that a woman could prefer any form of literature to the charm +of his conversation. So with a series of grunts he lowered himself into +it, arranged his foot upon the rest, and, without asking permission, lit +a cigar. + +"Don't you care for dancin'?" he asked. + +She closed her book. "Oh, yes," she said, "but I don't know many men on +board, and there are such a lot of young people who do know one another. +It's pretty to watch them; but the night is pretty, too, don't you +think? The stars all seem so near compared to what they do at home." + +"I've seen too many Eastern nights to take much stock in 'em now," he +said in a disparaging voice. "I take it this is all new to you--first +voyage, eh?" + +"Yes, I've never been a long voyage before." + +"Goin' to India, I suppose. You'd have started sooner if you'd been +goin' for the winter to Australia. Now what are you goin' to India +_for_?" + +"To stay with my sister." + +"Married sister?" + +"Yes." + +"Older than you, then, of course." + +"No, younger." + +"Much younger?" + +"Three years." + +"Is she like you?" + +"Not in the least. She is a beautiful person." + +"Been married long?" + +"Between five and six years. I'm to take her home at the end of the cold +weather." + +"Any kids?" + +"Two." + +"And you haven't been out before?" + +"No; this is my first visit." + +"She's been home, I suppose?" + +"Yes, once." + +"Is her husband in the Army?" + +"No." + +Had Sir Langham been an observant person he would have noted that her +very brief replies did not exactly encourage further questions. But his +idea of conversation was either a monologue or a means of obtaining +information, so he instantly demanded, "What does her husband do?" + +The impulse of the moment urged her to reply, "What possible business is +it of yours _what_ he does?" But well-bred people do not yield to these +impulses, so she answered quietly, "He's in the P.W.D." + +"Not a bad service, not a bad service, though not equal to the I.C.S. +They've had rather a scandal in it lately. Didn't you see about it in +the papers just before we left?" + +At that moment Sir Langham was very carefully flicking the ash from the +end of his cigar, otherwise he might have observed that as he spoke his +companion flushed. A wave of warm colour surged over her face and bare +neck and receded again, leaving her very pale. Her hands closed over the +book lying in her lap, as if glad to hold on to something, and their +knuckles were white against the tan. + +"Didn't you see it?" he repeated. "Some chap been found to have taken +bribes over contracts in a native state. Regular rumpus there's been. +Quite right, too; we sahibs must have clean hands. No dealing with brown +people if you haven't clean hands--can't have rupees sticking to 'em in +any Government transactions. Expect you'll hear all about it when you +get out there--makes a great sensation in any service does that sort of +thing. I don't remember the name of the chap--perhaps they didn't give +it--do you?" + +"I didn't see anything about it," she said quietly. "I was very busy +just before I left, and hardly looked at a paper." + +"Where is your sister?" + +"In Bombay." + +"Oh, got a billet there, has he? Expect you'll like Bombay; cheery +place, in the cold weather, but not a patch on Calcutta, to my mind. I +hear the Governor and his wife do the thing in style--hospitable, you +know; got private means, as people in that position always ought to +have." + +"I don't suppose I shall go out at all," she said. "My sister is ill, +and I've got to look after her. Directly she is strong enough to travel +I shall bring her home." + +"Oh, you _must_ see something of the social life of the place while +you're there. D'you know what I thought? I thought you were goin' out to +get married, and"--he continued gallantly--"I thought he was a deuced +lucky chap." + +She smiled and shook her head. She was not looking at Sir Langham, but +at the long, white, moonlit pathway of foam left in the wake of the +ship. + +"I say," he went on confidentially, "what's your Christian name? I'm +certain they don't call you Janet. Is it Nettie, now? I bet it's +Nettie!" + +"My _family_," said Miss Ross somewhat coldly, "call me Jan." + +"Nice little name," he exclaimed, "but more like a boy's. Now, I never +got a pet name. I started Langham, and Langham I've stopped, and I +flatter myself I've made the name known and respected." + +He wanted her to look at him, and leaned towards her: "Look here, Miss +Ross, I'm goin' to ask you a funny question, and it's not one you can +ask most women--but you're a puzzle. You've got a face like a child, and +yet you're as grey as a badger. What _is_ your age?" + +"I shall be twenty-eight in March." + +She looked at him then, and her grey eyes were so full of amusement +that, incredulous as he usually was as to other people's statements, he +knew that she was speaking the truth. + +"Then why the devil don't you _do_ something _to_ it?" he demanded. + +She laughed. "I couldn't be bothered. And it might turn green, or +something. I don't mind it. It began when I was twenty-three." + +"_I_ don't mind it either," Sir Langham declared magnanimously; "but +it's misleading." + +"I'm sorry," she said demurely. "I wouldn't mislead anyone for the +world." + +"Now, what age should you think _I_ am? But I suppose you know--that's +the worst of being a public character; when one gets nearly a column in +_Who's Who_, everybody knows all about one. That's the penalty of +celebrity." + +"Do you mind people knowing your age?" + +"Not I! Nor anything else about me. _I've_ never done anything to be +ashamed of. Quite the other way, I can assure you." + +"How pleasant that must be," she said quietly. + +Sir Langham turned and looked suspiciously at her; but her face was +guileless and calm, with no trace of raillery, her eyes still fixed on +the long bright track of foam. + +"I suppose you, now," he muttered hoarsely, "always sleep well, go off +directly you turn in--eh?" + +Her quiet eyes met his; little and fierce and truculent, but behind +their rather bloodshot boldness there lurked something else, and with a +sudden pang of pity she knew that it was fear, and that Sir Langham +dreaded the night. + +"As a rule I do," she said gently; "but of course I've known what it is +to be sleepless, and it's horrid." + +"It's hell," said Sir Langham, "and I'm in it every night this voyage, +for I've knocked off morphia and opiates--they were playing the deuce +with my constitution, and I've strength of mind for anything when I +fairly take hold. But it's awful. When d'you suppose natural sleep will +come back?" + +She knew that he did not lack physical courage, that he had fearlessly +faced great dangers in many outposts of the world; but the demon of +insomnia had got a hold of Sir Langham, and he dreaded the night +unspeakably. At that moment there was something pathetic about the +little, boastful, filibustering man. + +"I think you will sleep to-night," she said confidently, "especially if +you go to bed early." + +She half rose as she spoke, but he put his hand on her arm and pressed +her down in her chair again. + +"Don't go yet," he cried. "Keep on tellin' me I'll sleep, and then +perhaps I shall. You look as if you could will people to do things. +You're that quiet sort. Will me, there's a good girl. Tell me again I'll +sleep to-night." + +It was getting late; the music had stopped and the dancers had +disappeared. Miss Ross did not feel over comfortable alone with Sir +Langham so far away from everybody else. Especially as she saw he was +excited and nervous. Had he been drinking? she wondered. But she +remembered that he had proclaimed far and wide that, because of his +gout, he'd made a vow to touch no form of "alcoholic liquor" on the +voyage, except on Christmas and New Year's Day. It was six days since +Christmas, and already Aden was left behind. No, it was just sheer +nervous excitement, and if she could do him any good.... + +"I feel sure you will sleep to-night," she said soothingly, "if you will +do as I tell you." + +"I'll do any mortal thing. I've got a deck-cabin to myself. Will you +keep willin' me when you turn in?" + +"Go to bed now," she said firmly. "Undress quickly, and then think about +nothing ... and I'll do the rest." + +"You will, you promise?" + +"Yes, but you must keep your mind a perfect blank, or I can't do +anything." + +She stood up tall and straight. The moonlight caught her grey hair and +burnished it to an aureole of silver. + +With many grunts Sir Langham pulled himself out of his chair. "No +smokin'-room, eh?" + +"Good night," Miss Ross said firmly, and left him. + +"Don't forget to ask your sister's husband about that chap in the +P.W.D.," he called after her. "He's sure to know all about it. What's +his name?--your brother-in-law, I mean." + +But Miss Ross had disappeared. + +"Now how the devil," he muttered, "am I to make my mind, _my_ mind, a +perfect blank?" + +Two hours later Sir Langham's snores grievously disturbed the occupants +of adjacent cabins. + +In hers, Miss Ross sat by the open porthole reading and re-reading the +mail that had reached her at Aden. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +JAN'S MAIL + + + _Bombay, December 13th._ + + My Dear Jan, + + It was a great relief to get your cable saying definitely + that you were sailing by the _Carnduff_. Misfortunes seem + to have come upon us in such numbers of late that I dreaded + lest your departure might be unavoidably delayed or + prevented. I will not now enter into the painful question + of my shameful treatment by Government, but you can well + understand that I shall leave no stone unturned to reverse + their most unfair and unjust decision, and to bring my + traducers to book. Important business having reference to + these matters calls me away at once, as I feel it is most + essential not to lose a moment, my reputation and my whole + future being at stake. I shall therefore, to my great + regret, be unable to meet you on your arrival in Bombay, + and, as my movements for the next few months will be rather + uncertain, I may find it difficult to let you have regular + news of me. I would therefore advise you to take Fay and + the children home as soon as all is safely over and she is + able to travel, and I will join you in England if and when + I find I can get away. I know, dear Jan, that you will not + mind financing Fay to this extent at present; as, owing to + these wholly unexpected departmental complications, I am + uncommonly hard up. I will, of course, repay you at the + earliest possible opportunity. + + Poor Fay is not at all well; all these worries have been + very bad for her, and I have been distracted by anxiety on + her behalf, as well as about my own most distressing + position, and a severe attack of fever has left me weak and + ailing. I thought it better to bring Fay down to Bombay, + where she can get the best medical advice, and her being + there will save you the long, tiresome journey to + Dariawarpur. It is also most convenient for going home. She + is installed in a most comfortable flat, and we brought our + own servants, so I hope you will feel that I have done my + best for her. + + Fay will explain the whole miserable business to you, and + although appearances may be against me, I trust that you + will realise how misleading these may be. I cannot thank + you enough for responding so promptly to our ardently + expressed desire for your presence at this difficult time. + It will make all the difference in the world to Fay; and, + on her account, to me also. + + Believe me, always yours affectionately, + + HUGO TANCRED. + + _Bombay, Friday._ + + Jan my dear, my dear, are you really on your way? And shall + I see your face and hear your kind voice, and be able to + cry against your shoulder? + + I can't meet you, my precious, because I don't go out. I'm + afraid. Afraid lest I should see anyone who knew us at + Dariawarpur. India is so large and so small, and people + from everywhere are always in Bombay, and I couldn't bear + it. + + Do you know, Jan, that when the very worst has happened, + you get kind of numbed. You can't suffer any more. You + can't be sorry or angry or shocked or indignant, or + anything but just broken, and that's what I am. + + After all, I've one good friend here who knew us at + Dariawarpur. He's got a job at the secretariat, and he + tries to help me all he can. I don't mind him somehow. He + understands. He will meet you and bring you to the + bungalow, so look out for him when the boat gets in. He's + tall and thin and clean-shaven and yellow, with a grave, + stern face and beautiful kind eyes. Peter is an angel, so + be nice to him, Jan dear. It has been awful; it will go on + being awful; but it will be a little more bearable when you + come--for me, I mean--for you it will be horrid. All of us + on your hands, and no money, and me such a crock, and + presently a new baby. The children are well. It's so queer + to think you haven't seen "little Fay." Come soon, Jan, + come soon, to your miserable FAY. + +Jan sat on her bunk under the open porthole. One after the other she +held the letters open in her hand and stared at them, but she did not +read. The sentences were burnt into her brain already. + +Hugo Tancred's letter was dated. Fay's was not, and neither letter bore +any address in Bombay. Now, Jan knew that Bombay is a large town; and +that people like the Tancreds, who, if not actually in hiding, certainly +did not seek to draw attention to their movements, would be hard to +find. Fay had wholly omitted to mention the surname of the tall, thin, +yellow man with the "grave, stern face and beautiful kind eyes." Even in +the midst of her poignant anxiety Jan found herself smiling at this. It +was so like Fay--so like her to give no address. And should the tall, +thin gentleman fail to appear, what was Jan to do? She could hardly go +about the ship asking if one "Peter" had come to fetch her. + +How would she find Fay? + +Would they allow her to wait at the landing-place till someone came, or +were there stringent regulations compelling passengers to leave the +docks with the utmost speed, as most of them would assuredly desire to +do? + +She knitted her brows and worried a good deal about this; then suddenly +put the question from her as too trivial when there were such infinitely +greater problems to solve. + +Only one thing was clear. One central fact shone out, a beacon amidst +the gloom of the "departmental complications" enshrouding the conduct of +Hugo Tancred, the certainty that he had, for the present anyway, shifted +the responsibility of his family from his own shoulders to hers. As she +sat square and upright under the porthole, with the cool air from an +inserted "wind-sail" ruffling her hair, she looked as though she braced +herself to the burden. + +She wished she knew exactly what had happened, what Hugo Tancred had +actually done. For some years she had known that he was by no means +scrupulous in money matters, and that very evening Sir Langham had made +it clear to her that this crookedness had not stopped short at his +official work. There had been a scandal, so far-reaching a scandal that +it had got into the home papers. + +This struck Jan as rather extraordinary, for Hugo Tancred was by no +means a stupid man. + +It is one thing to be pleasantly oblivious of private debts, to omit +cheques in repayment of various necessaries got at the Stores by an +obliging sister-in-law. One thing to muddle away in wild-cat +speculations a wife's money that, but for the procrastination of an +easy-going father, would have been tightly tied up--quite another to +bring himself so nearly within the clutches of the law as to make it +possible for the Government of India to dismiss him. + +And what was he to do? What did the future hold for him? + +Who would give employment to however able a man with such a career +behind him? + +Jan's imagination refused to take such flights. Resolutely she put the +subject from her and began to consider what her own best course would be +with Fay, her nephew and niece, and, very shortly, a new baby on her +hands. + +Jan was not a young woman to let things drift. She had kept house for a +whimsical, happy-go-lucky father since she was fourteen; mothered her +beautiful young sister; and, at her father's death, two years before, +had with quiet decision arranged her own life, wholly avoiding the +discussion and the friction which generally are the lot of an unmarried +woman of five-and-twenty left without natural guardians and with a large +circle of friends and relations. + +It was nearly two o'clock when she undressed and went to bed, and before +that she had drafted two cablegrams--one to a house-agent, the other to +her bankers. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +BOMBAY + + +For Jan the next two days passed as in a more or less disagreeable +dream. She could never afterwards recall very clearly what happened, +except that Sir Langham Sykes seemed absolutely omnipresent, and made +her, she felt, ridiculous before the whole ship, by proclaiming far and +wide that she had bestowed upon him the healing gift of sleep. + +He was so effusive, so palpably grateful, that she simply could not +undeceive him by telling him that after they parted the night before she +had never given him another thought. + +When he was not doing this he was pursuing, with fulminations against +the whole tribe of missionaries, two kindly, quiet members of the +Society of Friends. + +In an evil moment they had gratified his insatiable curiosity as to the +object of their voyage to India, which was to visit and report upon the +missionary work of their community. Once he discovered this he never let +them alone, and the deck resounded with his denunciations of all +Protestant missionaries as "self-seeking, oily humbugs." + +They bore it with well-mannered resignation, and a common dislike for +Sir Langham formed quite a bond of union between them and Jan. + +There was the usual dance on New Year's Eve, the usual singing of "Auld +Lang Syne" in two huge circles; and Jan would have enjoyed it all but +for the heavy foreboding in her heart; for she was a simple person who +responded easily to the emotions of others. Before she could slip away +to bed Sir Langham cornered her again, conjuring her to "will" him to +sleep and "to go on doin' it" after they parted in Bombay. He became +rather maudlin, and she seized the opportunity of telling him that her +best efforts would be wholly unavailing if he at all relaxed the +temperate habits, so necessary for the cure of his gout, that he had +acquired during the voyage. She was stern with Sir Langham, and her +admonitions had considerable effect. He sought his cabin chastened and +thoughtful. + +The boat was due early in the morning. Jan finished most of her packing +before she undressed; then, tired and excited, she could not sleep. A +large cockroach scuttling about her cabin did not tend to calm her +nerves. She plentifully besprinkled the floor with powdered borax, kept +the electric light turned on and the fan whirring, and lay down +wide-awake to wait for the dawn. + +The ship was unusually noisy, but just about four o'clock came a new +sound right outside her porthole--the rush alongside of the boat bearing +the pilot and strange loud voices calling directions in an unknown +tongue. She turned out her light (first peering fearfully under her +berth to make sure no borax-braving cockroach was in ambush) and knelt +on her bed to look out and watch the boat with its turbaned occupants: +big brown men, who shouted to one another in a liquid language full of +mystery. + +For a brief space the little boat was towed alongside the great liner, +then cast off, and presently--far away on the horizon--Jan saw a streak +of pearly pinkish light, as though the soft blue curtain of the night +had been lifted just a little; and against that luminous streak were +hills. + +In spite of her anxiety, in spite of her fears as to the future, Jan's +heart beat fast with pleasurable excitement. She was young and strong +and eager, and here at last was the real East. A little soft wind +caressed her tired forehead and she drank in the blessed coolness of the +early morning. + +Both day and night come quickly in the East. Jan got up, had her bath, +dressed, and by half-past six she was on deck. The dark-blue curtain was +rolled up, and the scene set was the harbour of Bombay. + +Such a gracious haven of strange multi-coloured craft, with its double +coast-line of misty hills on one side, and clear-cut, high-piled +buildings, domes and trees upon the other. + +A gay white-and-gold launch, with its attendants in scarlet and white, +came for certain passengers, who were guests of the Governor. The police +launch, trim and business-like with its cheerful yellow-hatted sepoys, +came for others. Jan watched these favoured persons depart in stately +comfort, and went downstairs to get some breakfast. Then came the rush +of departure by the tender. So many had friends to meet them, and all +seemed full of pleasure in arrival. Jan was just beginning to feel +rather forlorn and anxious when the Purser, fussed and over-driven as he +always is at such times, came towards her, followed by a tall man +wearing a pith helmet and an overcoat. + +"Mr. Ledgard has come to meet you, Miss Ross, so you'll be all right." + +It was amazing how easy everything became. Mr. Ledgard's servants +collected Jan's cabin baggage and took it with them in the tender and, +on arrival, in a tikka-gharri--the little pony-carriage which is the +gondola of Bombay--and almost before she quite realised that the voyage +was over she found herself seated beside Peter in a comfortable +motor-car, with a cheerful little Hindu chauffeur at the steering-wheel, +sliding through wide, well-watered streets, still comparatively empty +because it was so early. + +By mutual consent they turned to look at one another, and Jan noted that +Peter Ledgard _was_ thin and extremely yellow. That his eyes (hollow and +tired-looking as are the eyes of so many officials in the East) _were_ +kind, and she thought she had never before beheld a firmer mouth or more +masterful jaw. + +What Peter saw evidently satisfied him as to her common sense, for he +plunged _in medias res_ at once: "How much do you know of this +unfortunate affair?" he asked. + +"Very little," she answered, "and that little extremely vague. Will you +tell me has Hugo come to total grief or not?" + +"Officially, yes. He is finished, done for--may thank his lucky stars +he's not in gaol. It's well you should know this at the very beginning, +for of course he won't allow it, and poor Fay--Mrs. Tancred (I'm afraid +we're rather free-and-easy about Christian names in India)--doesn't know +the whole facts by a very long way. From what she tells me, I fear he +has made away with most of her money, too. Was any of it tied up?" + +Jan shook her head. "We both got what money there was absolutely on my +father's death." + +"Then," said Peter, "I fear you've got the whole of them on your hands, +Miss Ross." + +"That's what I've come for," Jan said simply, "to take care of Fay and +the children." + +Peter Ledgard looked straight in front of him. + +"It's a lot to put on you," he said slowly, "and I'm afraid you'll find +it a bit more complicated than you expect. Will you remember that I'd +like to help you all I can?" + +Jan looked at the stern profile beside her and felt vaguely comforted. +"I shall be most grateful for your advice," she said humbly. "I know I +shall need it." + +The motor stopped, and as she stepped from it in front of the tall block +of buildings, Jan knew that the old easy, straightforward life was over. +Unconsciously she stiffened her back and squared her shoulders, and +looked very tall and straight as she stood beside Peter Ledgard in the +entrance. The pretty colour he had admired when he met her had faded +from her cheeks, and the face under the shady hat looked grave and +older. + +Peter said something to the smiling lift-man in an extremely dirty dhoti +who stood salaaming in the entrance. + +"I won't come up now," he said to Jan. "Please tell Mrs. Tancred I'll +look in about tea-time." + +As Jan entered the lift and vanished from his sight, Peter reflected, +"So that's the much-talked-of Jan! Well, I'm not surprised Fay wanted +her." + +The lift stopped. An elderly white-clad butler stood salaaming at an +open door, and Jan followed him. + +A few steps through a rather narrow passage and she was in a large light +room opening on to a verandah, and in the centre stood her sister Fay, +with outstretched arms. + +A pathetic, inarticulate, worn and faded Fay: her pretty freshness +dimmed. A Fay with dark circles round her hollow eyes and all the living +light gone from her abundant fair hair. It was as though her face was +covered by an impalpable grey mask. + +There was no doubt about it. Fay looked desperately ill. Ill in a way +not to be accounted for by her condition. + +Clinging together they sat down on an immense sofa, exchanging trivial +question and answer as to the matters ordinary happy folk discuss when +they first meet after a long absence. Jan asked for the children, who +had not yet returned from their early morning walk with the ayah. Fay +asked about the voyage and friends at home, and told Jan she had got +dreadfully grey; then kissed her and leant against her just as she used +to do when they were both children and she needed comfort. + +Jan said nothing to Fay about _her_ looks, and neither of them so much +as mentioned Hugo Tancred. But Jan felt a wild desire to get away by +herself and cry and cry over this sad wraith of the young sister whose +serene and happy beauty had been the family pride. + +And yet she was so essentially the same Fay, tender and loving and +inconsequent, and full of pretty cares for Jan's comfort. + +The dining-room was behind the sitting-room, with only a curtain +between, and as they sat at breakfast Fay was so eager Jan should +eat--she ate nothing herself--so anxious lest she should not like the +Indian food, that poor Jan, with a lump in her throat that choked her at +every morsel, forced down the carefully thought-out breakfast and meekly +accepted everything presented by the grey-haired turbaned butler who +bent over her paternally and offered every dish much as one would tempt +a shy child with some amusing toy. + +Presently Fay took her to see her room, large, bare and airy, with +little furniture save the bed with its clean white mosquito curtains +placed under the electric fan in the centre of the ceiling. Outside the +window was a narrow balcony, and Jan went there at once to look out; and +though her heart was so heavy she was fain to exclaim joyfully at the +beauty of the view. + +Right opposite, across Back Bay, lay the wooded villa-crowned slopes of +Malabar Hill, flung like a garland on the bosom of a sea deeply blue and +smiling, smooth as a lake, while below her lay the pageant of the +street, with its ever-changing panorama of vivid life. The whole so +brilliant, so various, so wholly unlike any beautiful place she had ever +seen before that, artist's daughter she was, she cried eagerly to Fay, +"Oh, come and look! Did you ever see anything so lovely? How Dad would +have rejoiced in this!" + +Fay followed slowly: "I thought you'd like it," she said, evidently +pleased by Jan's enthusiasm, "that's why I gave you this room. Look, +Jan! There are the children coming, those two over by the band-stand. +They see us. _Do_ wave to them." + +The children were still a long way off. Jan could only see an ayah in +her white draperies pushing a little go-cart with a child in it, and a +small boy trotting by her side, but she waved as she was bidden. + +The room had evidently at one time been used as a nursery, for inside +the stone balustrade was a high trellis of wood. Jan and Fay were both +tall women, but even on them the guarding trellis came right up to their +shoulders. Neither of them could really lean over, though Fay tried, in +her eagerness to attract the attention of the little group. Jan watched +her sister's face and again felt that cruel constriction of the throat +that holds back tears. Fay's tired eyes were so sad, so out of keeping +with the cheerful movement of her hand, so shadowed by some knowledge +she could not share. + +"You mustn't stand here without a hat," she said, turning to go in. "The +sun is getting hot. You must get a topee this afternoon. Peter will take +you and help to choose it." + +"Couldn't you come, if we took a little carriage? Does driving tire you +when it's cool?" Jan asked as she followed her sister back into the +room. + +"I never go out," Fay said decidedly. "I never shall again ... I mean," +she added, "till it's all over. I couldn't bear it just now--I might +meet someone I know." + +"But, Fay, it's very bad for you to be always indoors. Surely, in the +early morning or the evening--you'll come out then?" + +Fay shook her head. "Peter has taken me out in the motor once or twice +at night--but I don't really like it. It makes me so dreadfully tired. +Don't worry me about that, Jan. I get plenty of air in the verandah. +It's just as pretty there as in your balcony, and we can have +comfortable chairs. Let's go there now. _You_ shall go out as much as +you like. I'll send Lalkhan with you, or Ayah and the children; and +Peter will take you about all he can--he promised he would. Don't think +I want to be selfish and keep you here with me all the time." + +The flat, weak voice, so nervous, so terrified lest her stronger sister +should force her to some course of action she dreaded, went to Jan's +heart. + +"My dear," she said gently, "I haven't come here to rush about. I've +come to be with you. We'll do exactly what you like best." + +Fay clung to her again and whispered, "Later on you'll understand +better--I'll be able to tell you things, and perhaps you'll understand +... though I'm not sure--you're not weak like me, you'd never go under +... you'd always fight...." + +There was a pattering of small feet in the passage. Little high voices +called for "Mummy," and the children came in. + +Tony, a grave-eyed, pale-faced child of five, came forward instantly, +with his hand held out far in front of him. Jan, who loved little +children, knew in a minute that he was afraid she would kiss him; so she +shook hands with gentlemanly stiffness. Little Fay, on the contrary, ran +forward, held up her arms "to be taken" and her adorably pretty little +face to be kissed. She was startlingly like her mother at the same age, +with bobbing curls of feathery gold, beseeching blue eyes and a +complexion delicately coloured as the pearly pink lining of certain +shells. She was, moreover, chubby, sturdy and robust--quite unlike Tony, +who looked nervous, bleached and delicate. + +Tony went and leant against his mother, regarding Jan and his small +sister with dubious, questioning eyes. + +Presently he remarked, "I wish she hadn't come." + +"Oh, Tony," Fay exclaimed reproachfully, "you must both love Auntie Jan +very dearly. She has come such a long way to be good to us all." + +"I wish she hadn't," Tony persisted. + +"_I_ sall love Auntie Dzan," Fay remarked, virtuously. + +It was pleasant to be cuddled by this friendly baby, and Jan laid her +cheek against the fluffy golden head; but all the time she was watching +Tony. He reminded her of someone, and she couldn't think who. He +maintained his aloof and unfriendly attitude till Ayah came to take the +children to their second breakfast. Little Fay, however, refused to +budge, and when the meekly salaaming ayah attempted to take her, made +her strong little body stiff, and screamed vigorously, clinging so +firmly to her aunt that Jan had herself to carry the obstreperous baby +to the nursery, where she left her lying on the floor, still yelling +with all the strength of her evidently healthy lungs. + +When Jan returned, rather dishevelled--for her niece had seized a +handful of her hair in the final struggle not to be put down--Fay said +almost complacently, "You see, the dear little soul took a fancy to you +at once. Tony is much more reserved and not nearly so friendly. He's +very Scotch, is Tony." + +"He does what he's told, anyway." + +"Oh, not always," Fay said reassuringly, "only when he doesn't mind +doing it. They've both got very strong wills." + +"So have I," said Jan. + +Fay sighed. "It was time you came to keep them in order. I can't." + +This was evident, for Fay had not attempted to interfere with her +daughter beyond saying, "I expect she's hungry, that's why she's so +fretty, poor dear." + +That afternoon Peter went to the flat and was shown as usual into the +sitting-room. + +Jan and the children were in the verandah, all with their backs to the +room, and did not notice his entrance as Jan was singing nursery-rhymes. +Fay sat on her knee, cuddled close as though there were no such thing as +tempers in the world. Tony sat on a little chair at her side, not very +near, but still near enough to manifest a more friendly spirit than in +the morning. Peter waited in the background while the song went on. + + I saw a ship a-sailing, a-sailing on the sea, + And it was full of pretty things for Tony, Fay and me. + There was sugar in the cabin and kisses in the hold---- + +"Whose kisses?" Tony asked suspiciously. + +"Mummy's kisses, of course," said Jan. + +"Why doesn't it _say_ so, then?" Tony demanded. + +"Mummy's kisses in the hold," Jan sang obediently-- + + The sails were made of silk and the masts were made of gold. + Gold, gold, the masts were made of gold. + +"What nelse?" Fay asked before Jan could start the second verse. + + There were four-and-twenty sailors a-skipping on the deck, + And they were little white mice with rings about their neck. + The captain was a duck, with a jacket on his back, + And when the ship began to sail, the captain cried, "Quack! Quack! + Quack! Quack!" The captain cried, "Quack! Quack!" + +"What nelse?" Fay asked again. + +"There isn't any nelse, that's all." + +"Adain," said Fay. + +"Praps," Tony said thoughtfully, "there was _some_ auntie's kisses in +that hold ... just a few...." + +"I'm sure there were," said a new voice, and Peter appeared on the +verandah. + +The children greeted him with effusion, and when he sat down Tony sat on +his knee. He was never assailed by fears lest Peter should want to kiss +him. Peter was not that sort. + +"Sing nunner song," little Fay commanded. + +"Not now," Jan said; "we've got a visitor and must talk to him." + +"Sing nunner song," little Fay repeated firmly, just as though she had +not heard. + +"Not now; some other time," Jan said with equal firmness. + +"Mack!" said the baby, and suited the action to the word by dealing her +aunt a good hard smack on the arm. + +"You mustn't do that," said Jan; "it's not kind." + +"Mack, mack, mack," in _crescendo_ with accompanying blows. + +Jan caught the little hand, while Peter and Tony, interested spectators, +said nothing. She held it firmly. "Listen, little Fay," she said, very +gently. "If you do that again I shall take you to Ayah in the nursery. +Just once again, and you go." + +Jan loosed the little hand, and instantly it dealt her a resounding slap +on the cheek. + +It is of no avail to kick and scream and wriggle in the arms of a +strong, decided young aunt. For the second time that day, a vociferously +struggling baby was borne back to the nursery. + +As the yells died away in the distance, Tony turned right round on +Peter's knee and faced him: "She does what she says," he remarked in an +awestruck whisper. + +"And a jolly good thing too," answered Peter. + +When Jan came back she brought her sister with her. Lalkhan brought tea, +and Tony went with him quite meekly to the nursery. They heard him +chattering to Lalkhan in Hindustani as they went along the passage. + +Fay looked a thought less haggard than in the morning. She had slept +after tiffin; the fact that her sister was actually in the bungalow had +a calming effect upon her. She was quite cheerful and full of plans for +Jan's amusement; plans in which, of course, she proposed to take no part +herself. Jan listened in considerable dismay to arrangements which +appeared to her to make enormous inroads into Peter Ledgard's leisure +hours. He and his motor seemed to be quite at Fay's disposal, and Jan +found the situation both bewildering and embarrassing. + +"What a nuisance for him," she reflected, "to have a young woman thrust +upon him in this fashion. It won't do to upset Fay, but I must tell him +at the first opportunity that none of these projects hold good." + +Directly tea was over Fay almost hustled them out to go and buy a topee +for Jan, and suggested that, having accomplished this, they should look +in at the Yacht Club for an hour, "because it was band-night," and Jan +would like the Yacht Club lawn, with the sea and the boats and all the +cheerful people. + +As the car slid into the crowded traffic of the Esplanade Road, Peter +pointed to a large building on the left, saying, "There's the Army and +Navy Stores, quite close to you, you see. You can always get anything +you want there. I'll give you my number ... not that it matters." + +"I've belonged for years to the one at home," said Jan, "and I +understand the same number will do." + +She felt she really could not be beholden to this strange young man for +everything, even a Stores number; and that she had better make the +situation clear at once that she had come to take care of Fay and not to +be an additional anxiety to him. At that moment she felt almost jealous +of Peter. Fay seemed to turn to him for everything. + +When they reached the shop where topees were to be got, she heard a +familiar, booming voice. Had she been alone she would certainly have +turned and fled, deferring her purchase till Sir Langham Sykes had +concluded his, but she could hardly explain her rather complicated +reasons to Peter, who told the Eurasian assistant to bring topees for +her inspection. + +Jan tried vainly to efface herself behind a tailor's dummy, but her back +was reflected in the very mirror which also reproduced Sir Langham in +the act of trying on a khaki-coloured topee. He saw her and at once +hurried in her direction, exclaiming: + +"Ah, Miss Ross, run to earth! You slipped off this morning without +bidding me good-bye, and I've been wonderin' all day where we should +meet. Now let me advise you about your topee. _I'll_ choose it for you, +then you can't go wrong. Get a large one, mind, or the back of your nice +little neck will be burnt the colour of the toast they gave us on the +_Carnduff_--shockin' toast, wasn't it? No, not that shape, idiot ... +unless you're goin' to ride, are you? If so, you must have one of +each--a large one, I said--what the devil's the use of that? You must +wear it _well_ on your head, mind; you can't show much of that pretty +grey hair that puzzled us all so--eh, w'at?" + +Jan had been white enough as she entered the shop, for she was beginning +to feel quite amazingly tired; but now the face under the overshadowing +topee was crimson and she was hopelessly confused and helpless in the +overpowering of Sir Langham, who, when he could for a moment detach his +mind from Jan, looked with considerable curiosity at Peter. + +Peter stood there silent, aloof, detached; and he appeared quite cool. +Jan felt the atmosphere to be almost insufferably close, and heaved a +sigh of gratitude when he suddenly turned on an electric fan above her +head. + +"I think this will do," she said, in a faint voice to the assistant, +though the crinkly green lining round the crown seemed searing her very +brain. + +Peter intervened, asking: "Is it comfortable? No ..." as she took it +off. "I can see it isn't. It has marked your forehead already. Don't be +in a hurry. They'll probably need to alter the lining. Some women have +it taken out altogether. Pins keep it on all right." + +Thus encouraged, she tried on others, and all the time Sir Langham held +forth at the top of his voice, interrupting his announcement that he was +dining at Government House that very night to swear at the assistant +when he brought topees that did not fit, and giving his opinion of her +appearance with the utmost frankness, till Jan found one that seemed +rather less uncomfortable than the rest. Then in desperation she +introduced Sir Langham to Peter. + +"Your sister-in-law looks a bit tucked up," he remarked affably. "We'd +better take her to the Yacht Club and give her a peg--she seems to feel +the heat." + +Jan cast one despairing, imploring glance at Peter, who rose to the +occasion nobly. + +"You're quite right," he said. "This place is infernally stuffy. Come +on. They know where to send it. Good afternoon sir," and before she +realised what had happened Peter seized her by the arm and swept her out +of the shop and into the front seat of the car, stepped over her and +himself took the steering-wheel. + +While Sir Langham's voice bayed forth a mixture of expostulation and +assignation at the Yacht Club later on. + +"Now where shall we go?" asked Peter. + +"Not the Yacht Club," Jan besought him. "He's coming there; he said so. +Isn't he dreadful? Did you mind very much being taken for my +brother-in-law? He has no idea who he really is, or I wouldn't have let +it pass ... but I felt I could never explain ... I'm so sorry...." + +Her face was white enough now. + +"It would have been absurd to explain, and it's I who should apologise +for the free-and-easy way I carried you off, but it was clearly a case +for strong measures, or he'd have insisted on coming with us. What an +awful little man! Did you have him all the voyage? No wonder you look +tired.... I hope he didn't sit at your table...." + +Once out of doors, the delicious breeze from the sea that springs up +every evening in Bombay revived her. She forgot Sir Langham, for a few +minutes she even forgot Fay and her anxieties in sheer pleasure in the +prospect, as the car fell into its place in the crowded traffic of the +Queen's Road. + +Jan never forgot that drive. He ran her out to Chowpatty, where the +road lies along the shore and the carriages of Mohammedan, Hindu and +Parsee gentlemen stand in serried rows while their picturesque occupants +"eat the air" in passive and contented Eastern fashion; then up to Ridge +Road on Malabar Hill, where he stopped that she might get out and walk +to the edge of the wooded cliff and look down at the sea and the great +city lying bathed in that clear golden light only to be found at sunset +in the East. + +Peter enjoyed her evident appreciation of it all. She said very little, +but she looked fresh and rested again, and he was conscious of a quite +unusual pleasure in her mere presence as they stood together in the +green garden, got and kept by such infinite pains and care, that borders +the road running along the top of Malabar Hill. + +Suddenly she turned. "We mustn't wait another minute," she said. "You, +doubtless, want to go to the club. It has been very good of you to spend +so much time with me. What makes it all so beautiful is that everywhere +one sees the sea. I will tell Fay how much I have enjoyed it." + +Peter's eyes met hers and held them: "Try to think of me as a friend, +Miss Ross. I can see you are thoroughly capable and independent; but, +believe me, India is not like England, and a white woman needs a good +many things done for her here if she's to be at all comfortable. I don't +want to butt in and be a nuisance; but just remember I'm there when the +bell rings----" + +"I am not likely to forget," said Jan. + +Lights began to twinkle in the city below. The soft monotonous throb of +tom-toms came beating through the ambient air like a pulse of teeming +life; and when he left her at her sister's door the purple darkness of +an Eastern night had curtained off the sea. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE BEGINNING OF THE JOB + + +Fay was still lying on her long chair in the verandah when Jan got in. +She had turned on the electric light above her head and had, seemingly, +been working at some diminutive garment of nainsook and lace. She looked +up at Jan's step, asking eagerly, "Well, did you like it? Did you see +many people? Was the band good?" + +Jan sat down beside her and explained that Peter had taken her for a +drive instead. She made her laugh over her encounter with Sir Langham, +and was enthusiastic about the view from Malabar Hill. Then Fay sent her +to say good night to the children, who were just getting ready for bed. + +As she went down the long passage towards the nursery, she heard small +voices chattering in Hindustani, and as she opened the door little Fay +was in the act of stepping out of all her clothes. + +Tony was already clad in pink pyjamas, which made him look paler than +ever. + +Little Fay, naked as any shameless cherub on a Renaissance festoon, +danced across the tiled floor, and, pausing directly in front of her +aunt, announced: + +"I sall mack Ayah as muts as I like." + +The good-natured Goanese ayah salaamed and, beaming upon her charge, +murmured entire acquiescence. + +Jan looked down at the absurd round atom who defied her, and, trying +hard not to laugh, said: + +"Oh, no, you won't." + +"I sall!" the baby declared even more emphatically, and, lifting up her +adorable, obstinate little face to look at Jan, nodded her curly head +vigorously. + +"I think not," Jan remarked rather unsteadily, "because if you do, +people won't like you. We can none of us go about smacking innocent +folks just for the fun of it. Everybody would be shocked and horrified." + +"Socked and hollified," echoed little Fay, delighted with the new words, +"socked and hollified!... What nelse?" + +"What usually follows is that the disagreeable little girl gets smacked +herself." + +"No," said Fay, but a thought doubtfully. "No," more firmly. Then with a +smile that was subtly compounded of pathos and confidence, "Nobody would +mack plitty little Fay ... 'cept ... plapse ... Auntie Dzan." + +The stern aunt in question snatched up her niece to cover her with +kisses. Ayah escaped chastisement that evening, for, arrayed in a white +nighty, "plitty little Fay" sat good as gold on Jan's knee, absorbed in +the interest of "This little pig went to market," told on her own toes. +Even Tony, the aloof and unfriendly, consented to unbend to the extent +of being interested in the dialogue of "John Smith and Minnie Bowl, can +you shoe a little foal?" and actually thrust out his own bare feet that +Jan might make them take part in the drama of the "twa wee doggies who +went to the market," and came back "louper-scamper, louper-scamper." + +At the end of every song or legend came the inevitable "What nelse?" +from little Fay--and Jan only escaped after the most solemn promises had +been exacted for a triple bill on the morrow. + +When she had changed and went back to the sitting-room, dinner was +ready. Lalkhan again bent over her with fatherly solicitude as he +offered each course, and this time Jan, being really hungry, rather +enjoyed his ministrations. A boy assisted at the sideboard, and another +minion appeared to bring the dishes from the kitchen, for the butler and +the boy never left the room for an instant. + +Fay looked like a tired ghost, and Jan could see that it was a great +effort to her to talk cheerfully and seem interested in the home news. + +After dinner they went back to the sitting-room. Lalkhan brought coffee +and Fay lit a cigarette. Jan wandered round, looking at the photographs +and engravings on the walls. + +"How is it," she asked, "that Mr. Ledgard seems to come in so many of +these groups? Did you rent the flat from a friend of his?" + +"I didn't 'rent' the flat from anybody," Fay answered. "It's Peter's own +flat. He lent it to us." + +Jan turned and stared at her sister. "Mr. Ledgard's flat!" she +repeated. "And what is he doing?" + +"He's living at the club just now. He turned out when we came. Don't +look at me like that, Jan.... There was nothing else to be done." + +Jan came back and sat on the edge of the big sofa. "But I understood +Hugo's letter to say...." + +"Whatever Hugo said in his letter was probably lies. If Peter hadn't +lent us his flat, I should have had nowhere to lay my head. Who do you +suppose would let us a flat here, after all that has happened, unless we +paid in advance, and how could we do that without any ready money? Why, +a flat like this unfurnished costs over three hundred rupees a month. I +don't know what a furnished flat would be." + +"But--isn't it ... taking a great deal from Mr. Ledgard?" Jan asked +timidly. + +Fay stretched out her hand and suddenly switched off the lights, so that +they were left together on the big sofa in the soft darkness. + +"Give me your hand, Jan. I shall be less afraid of you when I just feel +you and can't see you." + +"Why should you be afraid of me?... Dear, dear Fay, you must remember +how little I really know. How can I understand?" + +Fay leant against her sister and held her close. "Sometimes I feel as if +I couldn't understand it all myself. But you mustn't worry about Peter's +flat. We'll all go home the minute I can be moved. He doesn't mind, +really ... and there was nothing else to be done." + +"Does Hugo know you are here?" + +Fay laughed, a sad, bitter little laugh. "It was Hugo who asked Peter to +lend his flat." + +"Then what about his servants? What has he done with them while you are +here?" + +"These are his servants." + +"But Hugo said...." + +"Jan, dear, it is no use quoting Hugo to me. I can tell you the sort of +thing he would say.... Did he mention Peter at all?" + +"Certainly not. He said you were 'installed in a most comfortable flat' +and had brought your own servants." + +"I brought Ayah--naturally, Peter hadn't an ayah. But why do you object +to his servants? They're very good." + +"But don't they think it ... a little odd?" + +"Oh, you can't bother about what servants think in India. They think us +all mad anyway." + +There was silence for a few minutes while Jan realised the fact that, +dislike it as she might, she seemed fated to be laid under considerable +obligation to Mr. Peter Ledgard. + +"Where is Hugo?" she asked at last. + +"My dear, you appear to have heard from Hugo since I have. As to his +whereabouts I haven't the remotest idea." + +"Do you mean to say, Fay, that he hasn't let you know where he is?" + +"He didn't come with us to the flat because he was afraid he'd be seized +for debts and things. We've only been here a fortnight. He's probably +on board ship somewhere--there hasn't been much time for him to let me +know...." + +Fay spoke plaintively, as though Jan were rather hard on Hugo in +expecting him to give his wife any account of his movements. + +Jan was glad it was dark. She felt bewildered and oppressed and very, +very angry with her brother-in-law, who seemed to have left his entire +household in the care of Peter Ledgard. Was Peter paying for their very +food, she wondered? She'd put a stop to that, anyhow. + +"Jan"--she felt Fay lean a little closer--"don't be down on me. You've +no idea how hard it has all been. You're such a daylight person +yourself." + +"Hard on you, my precious! I could never feel the least little bit hard. +Only it's all so puzzling. And what do you mean by a 'daylight person'?" + +"You know, Jan, for three months now I've been a lot alone, and I've +done a deal of thinking--more than ever in all my life before; and it +seems to me that the world is divided into three kinds of people--the +daylight people, and the twilight people and the night people." + +Fay paused. Jan stroked her hot, thin hand, but did not speak, and the +tired, whispering voice went on: "_We_ were daylight people--Daddie was +very daylight. There were never any mysteries; we all of us knew always +where each of us was, and there were no secrets and no queer people +coming for interviews, and it wouldn't have mattered very much if +anyone _had_ opened one of our letters. Oh, it's such an _easy_ life in +the daylight country...." + +"And in the twilight country?" asked Jan. + +"Ah, there it's very different. Everything is mysterious. You never know +where anyone has gone, and if he's away queer people--quite horrid +people--come and ask for him and won't go away, and sit in the verandah +and cheek the butler and the boy and insist on seeing the 'memsahib,' +and when she screws up her courage and goes to them, they ask for money, +and show dirty bits of paper and threaten, and it's all awful--till +somebody like Peter comes and kicks them out, and then they simply fly." + +In spite of her irritation at being beholden to him, Jan began to feel +grateful to Peter. + +"Sometimes," Fay continued, "I think it would be easier to be a night +person. They've no appearances to keep up. You see, what makes it so +difficult for the twilight people is that they _want_ to live in the +daylight, and it's too strong for them. All the night people whom they +know--and if you're twilight you know lots of 'em--come and drag them +back. _They_ don't care. They rather like to go right in among the +daylight folk and scare and shock them, and make them uncomfortable. You +_can't_ suffer in the same way when you've gone under altogether." + +"But, Fay dear," Jan interposed, "you talk as though the twilight people +couldn't help it...." + +"They can't--they truly can't." + +"But surely there's right and wrong, straightness and crookedness, and +no one _need_ be crooked." + +"People like you needn't--but everybody isn't strong like that. Hugo +says every man has his price, and every woman too--Peter says so, too." + +"Then Peter ought to be ashamed of himself. Do you suppose _he_ has his +price?" + +"No, not in that way. He'd think it silly to be pettifogging and +dishonest about money, or to go in for mad speculations run by shady +companies; but he wouldn't think it _extraordinary_ like you." + +"I'm afraid my education has been neglected. A great many things seem +extraordinary to me." + +"You think it funny I should be living in Peter's flat, waited on by +Peter's servants--but what else could I do?" + +Jan smiled in the darkness. She saw where her niece had got "what +nelse?" + +"Isn't it just a little--unusual?" she asked gently. "Is there no money +at all, Fay? What has become of all your own?" + +"It's not all gone," Fay said eagerly. "I think there's nearly two +thousand pounds left, but Peter made me write home--that was at +Dariawarpur, before he came down here--and say no more was to be sent +out, not even if I wrote myself to ask for it--and _he_ wrote to Mr. +Davidson too----" + +"I know somebody wrote. Mr. Davidson was very worried ... but what _can_ +Hugo have done with eight thousand pounds in two years? Besides his +pay...." + +"Eight thousand pounds doesn't go far when you've dealings with +money-lenders and mines in Peru--but _I_ don't understand it--don't ask +me. I believe he left me a little money--I don't know how much--at a +bank in Elphinstone Circle--but I haven't liked to write and find out, +lest it should be very little ... or none...." + +"Mercy!" exclaimed Jan. "It surely would be better to know for certain." + +"When you've lived in the twilight country as long as I have you'll not +want to know anything for certain. It's only when things are wrapped up +in a merciful haze of obscurity that life is tolerable at all. Do you +suppose I _wanted_ to find out that my husband was a rascal? I shut my +eyes to it as long as I could, and then Truth came with all her cruel +tools and pried them open. Oh, Jan, it did hurt so!" + +If Fay had cried, if her voice had even broken or she had seemed deeply +moved, it would have been more bearable. It was the poor thing's +calm--almost indifference--that frightened Jan. For it proved that her +perceptions were numbed. + +Fay had been tortured till she could feel nothing acutely any more. Jan +had the feeling that in some dreadful, inscrutable way her sister was +shut away from her in some prison-house of the mind. + +And who shall break through those strange, intangible, impenetrable +walls of unshared experience? + +Jan swallowed her tears and said cheerfully: "Well, it's all going to be +different now. You needn't worry about anything any more. If Hugo has +left no money we'll manage without. Mr. Davidson will let me have what I +want ... but we must be careful, because of the children." + +"And you'll try not to mind living in Peter's flat?" Fay said, rubbing +her head against Jan's shoulder. "It's India, you know, and men are very +kind out here--much friendlier than they are at home." + +"So it seems." + +"You needn't think there's anything wrong, Jan. Peter isn't in love with +me now." + +"Was he ever in love with you?" + +"Oh, yes, a bit, once; when he first came to Dariawarpur ... lots of +them were then. I really was very pretty, and I had quite a little court +... but when the bad times came and people began to look shy at +Hugo--everybody was nice to me always--then Peter seemed different. +There was no more philandering, he was just ... Oh, Jan, he was just +such a daylight person, and might have been Daddie. I should have died +without him." + +"Fay, tell me--I'll never ask again--was Hugo unkind to you?" + +"No, Jan, truly not unkind. He shut me away from the greater part of his +life ... and there were other people ... not ladies"--Fay felt the +shoulder she leant against stiffen--"but I didn't know that for quite a +long time ... and he wasn't ever surly or cross or grudging. He always +wanted me to have everything very nice, and I really believe he always +hoped the mines and things would make lots of money.... You know, Jan, +I'd _rather_ believe in people. I daresay you think I'm weak and stupid +... but I can never understand wives who set detectives on their +husbands." + +"It isn't done by the best people," Jan said with a laugh that was half +a sob. "Let's hope it isn't often necessary...." + +Fay drew a little closer: "Oh, you are dear not to be stern and +scolding...." + +"It's not you I feel like scolding." + +"If you scolded him, he'd agree with every word, so that you simply +couldn't go on ... and then he'd go away and do just the same things +over again, and fondly hope you'd never hear of it. But he _was_ kind in +lots of ways. He didn't drink----" + +"I don't see anything so very creditable in that," Jan interrupted. + +"Well, it's one of the things he didn't do--and we had the nicest +bungalow in the station and by far the best motor--a much smarter motor +than the Resident. And it was only when I discovered that Hugo had made +out I was an heiress that I began to feel uncomfortable." + +"Was he good to the children?" + +"He hardly saw them. Children don't interest him much. He liked little +Fay because she's so pretty, but I don't think he cared a great deal for +Tony. Tony is queer and judging. Don't take a dislike to Tony, Jan; he +needs a long time, but once you've got him he stays for ever--will you +remember that?" + +Again, Jan felt that cold hand laid on her heart, the hand of chill +foreboding. She had noticed many times already that when Fay was off her +guard she always talked as though, for her, everything were ended, and +she was only waiting for something. There seemed no permanence in her +relations with them all. + +A shadowy white figure lifted the curtain between the two rooms and +stood salaaming. + +Jan started violently. She was not yet accustomed to the soundless naked +feet of the servants whose presence might be betrayed by a rustle, never +by a step. + +It was Ayah waiting to know if Fay would like to go to bed. + +"Shall I go, Jan? Are you tired?" + +Jan was, desperately tired, for she had had no sleep the night before, +but Fay's voice had in it a little tremor of fear that showed she +dreaded the night. + +"Send her to bed, poor thing. I'll look after you, brush your hair and +tuck you up and all.... Fay, oughtn't you to have somebody in your room? +Couldn't my cot be put in there, just to sleep?" + +"Oh, Jan, would you? Don't you mind?" + +"Shall I help her to move it?" Jan said, getting up. + +Fay pulled her down again. "You funny Jan, you can't do that sort of +thing here. The servants will do it." + +She sat up, gave a rapid, eager order to Ayah, and in a few minutes Jan +heard her bed being wheeled down the passage. Every room had wide +double doors--like French rooms--and there was no difficulty. + +Fay sank down again among her cushions with a great sigh of relief: "I +don't mind now how soon I go to bed. I shan't be frightened in the long +dark night any more. Oh, Jan, you _are_ a dear daylight person!" + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE CHILDREN + + +Jan made headway with Tony and little Fay. An aunt who carried one +pick-a-back; who trotted, galloped, or curvetted to command as an +animated steed; who provided spades and buckets, and herself, getting up +very early, took them and the children to an adorable sandy beach, +deserted save for two or three solitary horsemen; an aunt who dug holes +and built castles and was indirectly the means of thrilling rides upon a +real horse, when Peter was encountered as one of the mounted few taking +exercise before breakfast; such an aunt could not be regarded otherwise +than as an acquisition, even though she did at times exert authority and +insist upon obedience. + +She got it, too; especially from little Fay, who, hitherto, had obeyed +nobody. Tony, less wilful and not so prone to be destructive, was +secretly still unwon, though outwardly quite friendly. He waited and +watched and weighed Jan in the balance of his small judgment. Tony was +never in any hurry to make up his mind. + +One great hold Jan had was a seemingly inexhaustible supply of rhymes, +songs, and stories, and she was, moreover, of a telling disposition. + +Both children had a quite unusual passion for new words. Little Fay +would stop short in the midst of the angriest yells if anyone called her +conduct in question by some new term of opprobrium. Ayah's vocabulary +was limited, even in the vernacular, and nothing would have induced her +to return railing for railing to the children, however sorely they +abused her. But Jan occasionally freed her mind, and at such times her +speech was terse and incisive. Moreover, she quickly perceived her power +over her niece in this respect, and traded on the baby's quick ear and +interest. + +One day there was a tremendous uproar in the nursery just after tiffin, +when poor Fay usually tried to get the sleep that would partially atone +for her restless night. Jan swept down the passage and into the room, to +find her niece netted in her cot, and bouncing up and down like a +newly-landed trout, while Ayah wrestled with a struggling Tony, who +tried to drown his sister's screams with angry cries of "Let me get at +her to box her," and, failing that, vigorously boxing Ayah. + +Jan closed the door behind her and stood where she was, saying in the +quiet, compelling voice they had both already learned to respect: "It's +time for Mummy's sleep, and how can Mummy sleep in such a pandemonium?" + +Little Fay paused in the very middle of a yell and her face twinkled +through the restraining net. + +"Pandemolium," she echoed, joyously rolling it over on her tongue with +obvious gusto. + +"Pandemolium." + +"She kickened and fit with me," Tony cried angrily. "I _must_ box her." + +"Pandemolium?" little Fay repeated inquiringly. "What nelse?" + +"Yes," said Jan, trying hard not to laugh; "that's exactly what it was +... disgraceful." + +"What nelse?" little Fay persisted. She had heard disgraceful before. It +lacked novelty. + +"All sorts of horrid things," said Jan. "Selfish and odious and +ill-bred----" + +"White bled, blown bled, ill-bled," the person under the net chanted. +"What nother bled?" + +"There's well-bred," said Jan severely, "and that's what neither you nor +Tony are at the present moment." + +"There's toas' too," said the voice from under the net, ignoring the +personal application. "Sall we have some?" + +"Certainly not," Jan answered with great sternness. "People who riot and +brawl----" + +"Don't like zose words," the netted one interrupted distastefully (R's +always stumped her), "naughty words." + +"Not so naughty as the people who do it. Has Ayah had her dinner? No? +Then poor Ayah must go and have it, and I shall stay here and tell a +very soft, whispery story to people who are quiet and good, who lie in +their cots and don't quarrel----" + +"Or blawl" came from the net in a small determined voice. She could not +let the new word pass after all. + +"Exactly ... or brawl," Jan repeated in tones nothing like so firm. + +"She kickened and fit me, she did," Tony mumbled moodily as he climbed +into his cot: "Can't I box her nor nothing?" + +"Not now," Jan said, soothingly. Ayah salaamed and hurried away. She, at +all events, had cause to bless Jan, for now she got her meals with fair +regularity and in peace. + +In a few minutes the room was as quiet as an empty church, save for a +low voice that related an interminable story about "Cockie-Lockie and +Henny-Penny going to tell the King the lift's fallen," till one, at all +events, of the "blawlers" was sound asleep. + +The voice ceased and Tony's head appeared over the rail of his cot. + +"Hush!" Jan whispered. "Sister's asleep. Just wait a few minutes till +Ayah comes, then I'll take you away with me." + +Faithful Ayah didn't dawdle over her food. She returned, sat down on the +floor beside little Fay's cot and started her endless mending. + +Jan carried Tony away with her along the passage and into the +drawing-room. The verandah was too hot in the early afternoon. + +"Now what shall we do?" she asked, with a sigh, as she sat down on the +big sofa. "_I'd_ like to sleep, but I suppose you won't let me." + +Tony got off her knee and looked at her gravely. + +"You can," he said, magnanimously, "because you brought me. I hate bed. +I'll build a temple with my bricks and I won't knock it down. Not +loud." + +And like his aunt he did what he said. + +Jan put her feet up and lay very still. For a week now she had risen +early every morning to take the children out in the freshest part of the +day. She seldom got any rest in the afternoon, as she saw to it that +they should be quiet to let Fay sleep, and she went late to bed because +the cool nights in the verandah were the pleasant time for Fay. + +Tony murmured to himself, but he made little noise with his stone +bricks. And presently Jan was sleeping almost as soundly as her +obstreperous niece. + +Tony did not repeat new words aloud as did his sister. He turned them +over in his mind and treasured some simply because he liked the sound of +them. + +There were two that he had carried in his memory for nearly half his +life; two that had for him a mysterious fascination, a vaguely agreeable +significance that he couldn't at all explain. One was "Piccadilly" and +the other "Coln St. Aldwyn's." He didn't even know that they were the +names of places at first, but he thought they had a most beautiful +sound. Gradually the fact that they were places filtered into his mind, +and for Tony Piccadilly seemed particularly rural. He connected it in +some way with the duck-slaying Mrs. Bond of the Baby's Opera, a book he +and Mummy used to sing from before she grew too tired and sad to sing. +Before she lay so many hours in her long chair, before the big man he +called Daddie became so furtive and disturbing. Then Mummy used to tell +him things about a place called Home, and though she never actually +mentioned Piccadilly he had heard the word very often in a song that +somebody sang in the drawing-room at Dariawarpur. + +Theatricals had been towards and Mummy was acting, and people came to +practise their songs with her, for not only did she sing herself +delightfully, but she played accompaniments well for other people. The +play was a singing play, and the Assistant Superintendent of Police, a +small, fair young man with next to no voice and a very clear +enunciation, continually practised a song that described someone as +walking "down Piccadilly with a tulip or a lily in his medival hand." + +Tony rather liked "medival" too, but not so much as Piccadilly. A +flowery way, he was sure, with real grass in it like the Resident's +garden. Besides, the "dilly" suggested "daffy-down dilly come up to town +in a yellow petticoat and a green gown." + +But not even Piccadilly could compete with Coln St. Aldwyn's in Tony's +affections. There was something about that suggestive of exquisite peace +and loveliness, no mosquitoes and many friendly beasts. He had only +heard the word once by chance in connection with the mysterious place +called Home, in some casual conversation when no one thought he was +listening. He seized upon it instantly and it became a priceless +possession, comforting in times of stress, soothing at all times, a sort +of refuge from a real world that had lately been very puzzling for a +little boy. + +He was certain that at Coln St. Aldwyn's there was a mighty forest +peopled by all the nicest animals. Dogs that were ever ready to extend a +welcoming paw, elephants and mild clumsy buffaloes that gave good milk +to the thirsty. Little grey squirrels frolicked in the branches of the +trees, and the tiny birds Mummy told him about that lived in the yew +hedge at Wren's End. Tony had himself been to Wren's End he was told, +but he was only one at the time, and beyond a feeling that he liked the +name and that it was a very green place his ideas about it were hazy. + +Sometimes he wished it had been called "Wren St. Endwyn's," but after +mature reflection he decided it was but a poor imitation of the real +thing, so he kept the two names separate in his mind. + +He had added two more names to his collection since he came to Bombay. +"Mahaluxmi," the road running beside the sea, where Peter sometimes took +them and Auntie Jan for a drive after tea when it was high tide; and +"Taraporevala," who owned a famous book-shop in Medow Street where he +had once been in a tikka-gharri with Auntie Jan to get some books for +Mummy. Peter had recommended the shop, and the name instantly seized +upon Tony's imagination and will remain with it evermore. He never for +one moment connected it with the urbane gentleman in eyeglasses and a +funny little round hat who owned the shop. For Tony "Taraporevala" will +always suggest endless vistas of halls, fitted with books, shelves, and +tall stacks of books, and counters laden with piles of books. It seemed +amazing to find anything so vast in such a narrow street. There was +something magic about it, like the name. Tony was sure that some day +when he should explore the forest of Coln St. Aldwyn he would come upon +a little solid door in a great rock. A little solid door studded with +heavy nails and leading to a magic cave full of unimaginable treasure. +This door should only open to the incantation of "Taraporevala." None of +your "abracadabras" for him. + +And just as Mummy had talked much of "Wren's End" in happier days, so +now Auntie Jan told them endless stories about it and what they would +all do there when they went home. Some day, when he knew her better, he +would ask her about Coln St. Aldwyn's. He felt he didn't know her +intimately enough to do so yet, but he was gradually beginning to have +some faith in her. She was a well-instructed person, too, on the whole, +and she answered a straight question in a straight way. + +It was one of the things Tony could never condone in the big man called +Daddie, that he could never answer the simplest question. He always +asked another in return, and there was derision of some sort concealed +in this circuitous answer. Doubtless he meant to be pleasant and +amusing--Tony was just enough to admit that--but he was, so Tony felt, +profoundly mistaken in the means he sought. He took liberties, too; +punching liberties that knocked the breath out of a small boy's body +without actually hurting much; and he never, never talked sense. Tony +resented this. Like the Preacher, he felt there was a time to jest and a +time to refrain from jesting, and it didn't amuse him a bit to be +punched and rumpled and told he was a surly little devil if he attempted +to punch back. In some vague way Tony felt that it wasn't playing the +game--if it was a game. Often, too, for the past year and more, he +connected the frequent disappearances of the big man with trouble for +Mummy. Tony understood Hindustani as well as and better than English. +His extensive vocabulary in the former would have astonished his +mother's friends had they been able to translate, and he understood a +good deal of the servants' talk. He felt no real affection for the big, +tiresome man, though he admired him, his size, his good looks, and a way +he had with grown-up people; but he decided quite dispassionately, on +evidence and without any rancour, that the big man was a "budmash," for +he, unlike Auntie Jan, never did anything he said he'd do. And when, +before they left Dariawarpur, the big man entirely disappeared, Tony +felt no sorrow, only some surprise that having said he was going he +actually had gone. Auntie Jan never mentioned him, Mummy had reminded +them both always to include him when they said their prayers, but +latterly Mummy had been too tired to come to hear prayers. Auntie Jan +came instead, and Tony, watching her face out of half-shut eyes, tried +leaving out "bless Daddie" to see if anything happened. Sure enough +something did; Auntie Jan looked startled. "Say 'Bless Daddie,' Tony, +'and please help him.'" + +"To do what?" Tony asked. "Not to come back here?" + +"I don't think he'll come back here just now," Auntie Jan said in a +frightened sort of whisper, "but he needs help badly." + +Tony folded his hands devoutly and said, "Bless Daddie and please help +him--to stay away just now." + +And low down under her breath Jan said, "Amen." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE SHADOW BEFORE + + +Jan had been a week in Bombay, and her grave anxiety about Fay was in no +way lessened. Rather did it increase and intensify, for not only did her +bodily strength seem to ebb from her almost visibly day by day, but her +mind seemed so detached and aloof from both present and future. + +It was only when Jan talked about the past, about their happy girlhood +and their lovable comrade-father, that Fay seemed to take hold and +understand. All that had happened before his death seemed real and vital +to her. But when Jan tried to interest her in plans for the future, the +voyage home, the children, the baby that was due so soon, Fay looked at +her with tired, lack-lustre eyes and seemed at once to become +absent-minded and irrelevant. + +She was ready enough to discuss the characters of the children, to +impress upon Jan the fact that Tony was not unloving, only cautious and +slow before he really gave his affection. That little Fay was exactly +what she appeared on the surface--affectionate, quick, wilful, and +already conscious of her own power through her charm. + +"I defy anybody to quarrel with Fay when she is willing to make it up," +her mother said. "Tony melts like wax before the warmth of her +advances. She may have behaved atrociously to him five minutes +before--Ayah lets her, and I am far too weak with her--but if _she_ +wants to be friends Tony forgets and condones everything. Was I very +naughty to you, Jan, as a baby?" + +"Not that I can remember. I think you were very biddable and good." + +"And you?" + +Jan laughed--"There you have me. I believe I was most naughty and +obstreperous, and have vivid recollections of being sent to bed for +various offences. You see, Mother was far too strong and wise to spoil +me as little Fay is spoilt. Father tried his best, but you remember +Hannah? Could you imagine Hannah submitting for one moment to the sort +of treatment that baby metes out to poor, patient Ayah every single +day?" + +"By the way, how is Hannah?" + +"Hannah is in her hardy usual. She is going strong, and has developed +all sorts of latent talent as a cook. She was with me in the furnished +flat I rented till the day I left (I only took it by the month), and +she'll be with us again when we all get back to Wren's End." + +"But I thought Wren's End was let?" + +"Only till March quarter-day, and I've cabled to the agent not to +entertain any other offer, as we want it ourselves." + +"I like to think of the children at Wren's End," Fay said dreamily. + +"Don't you like to think of yourself there, too? Would you like any +other place better?" + +Jan's voice sounded constrained and a little hard. People sometimes +speak crossly when they are frightened, and just then Jan felt the cold, +skinny hands of some unnameable terror clutching her heart. Why did Fay +always exclude herself from all plans? + +They were, as usual, sitting in the verandah after dinner, and Fay's +eyes were fixed on the deeply blue expanse of sky. She hardly seemed to +hear Jan, for she continued: "Do you remember the sketch Daddie did of +me against the yew hedge? I'd like Tony to have that some day if you'd +let him." + +"Of course that picture is yours," Jan said, hastily. "We never divided +the pictures when he died. Some were sold and we shared the money, but +our pictures are at Wren's End." + +"I remember that money," Fay interrupted. "Hugo was so pleased about it, +and gave me a diamond chain." + +"Fay, where do you keep your jewellery?" + +"There isn't any to keep now. He 'realised' it all long before we left +Dariawarpur." + +"What do you mean, Fay? Has Hugo pawned it? All Mother's things, too?" + +"I don't know what he did with it," Fay said, wearily. "He told me it +wasn't safe in Dariawarpur, as there were so many robbers about that hot +weather, and he took all the things in their cases to send to the bank. +And I never saw them again." + +Jan said nothing, but she reflected rather ruefully that when Fay +married she had let her have nearly all their mother's ornaments, partly +because Fay loved jewels as jewels, and Jan cared little for them +except as associations. "If I'd kept more," Jan thought, "they'd have +come in for little Fay. Now there's nothing except what Daddie gave me." + +"Are you sorry, Jan?" Fay asked, presently. "I suppose there again you +think I ought to have stood out, to have made inquiries and insisted on +getting a receipt from the bank. But I knew very well they were not +going to the bank. I don't think they fetched much, but Hugo looked a +little less harassed after he'd got them. I've nothing left now but my +wedding ring and the little enamel chain like yours, that Daddie gave us +the year he had that portrait of Meg in the Salon and took us over to +see it. Where is Meg? Has she come back yet?" + +"Meg is still in Bremen with an odious German family, but she leaves at +the end of the Christmas holidays, as the girl is going to school, and +Meg will be utilised to bring her over. Then she's to have a rest for a +month or two, and I daresay she'd come to Wren's End and help us with +the babies when we get back." + +Fay leant forward and said eagerly, "Try to get her, Jan. I'd love to +think she was there to help you." + +"To help us," Jan repeated firmly. + +Fay sighed. "I can never think of myself as of much use any more; +besides ... Oh, Jan, won't you face it? You who are so brave about +facing things ... I don't believe I shall come through--this time." + +Jan got up and walked restlessly about the verandah. She tried to make +herself say, heard her own voice saying without any conviction, that it +was nonsense; that Fay was run down and depressed and no wonder; and +that she would feel quite different in a month or two. And all the time, +though her voice said these preposterously banal things, her brain +repeated the doctor's words after his last visit: "I wish there was a +little more stamina, Miss Ross. I don't like this complete inertia. It's +not natural. Can't you rouse her at all?" + +"My sister has had a very trying time, you know. She seems thoroughly +worn out." + +"I know, I know," the doctor had said. "A bad business and cruelly hard +on her; but I wish we could get her strength up a bit somehow. I don't +like it--this lack of interest in everything--I don't like it." And the +doctor's thin, clever face looked lined and worried as he left. + +His words rang in Jan's ears, drowning her own spoken words that seemed +such a hollow sham. + +She went and knelt by Fay's long chair. Fay touched her cheek very +gently (little Fay had the same adorable tender gestures). "It would +make it easier for both of us if you'd face it, my dear," she said. "I +could talk much more sensibly then and make plans, and perhaps really be +of some use. But I feel a wretched hypocrite to talk of sharing in +things when I know perfectly well I shan't be there." + +"Don't you want to be there?" Jan asked, hoarsely. + +[Illustration: "It would make it easier for both of us if you'd face it, +my dear."] + +Fay shook her head. "I know it's mean to shuffle out of it all, but I +_am_ so tired. Do you think it very horrid of me, Jan?" + +In silence Jan held her close; and in that moment she faced it. + +The days went on, strange, quiet days of brilliant sunshine. Their daily +life shrouded from the outside world even as the verandah was shrouded +from the sun when Lalkhan let down the chicks every day after tiffin. + +Peter was their only visitor besides the doctor, and Peter came +practically every day. He generally took Jan out after tea, sometimes +with the children, sometimes alone. He even went with her to the bank in +Elphinstone Circle, so like a bit of Edinburgh, with its solid stone +houses, and found that Hugo actually had lodged fifty pounds there in +Fay's name. The clerks looked curiously at Jan, for they thought she was +Mrs. Tancred. Every one in business or official circles in Bombay knew +about Hugo Tancred. His conduct had, for a while, even ousted the usual +topics of conversation--money, food, and woman--from the bazaars; and an +exhaustive discussion of it was only kept out of the Native Press by the +combined efforts of the Police and his own Department. Jan gained from +Peter a fairly clear idea of the _dbcle_ that had occurred in Hugo +Tancred's life. She no longer wondered that Fay refused to leave the +bungalow. She began to feel branded herself. + +For Jan, Peter's visits had come to have something of the relief the +loosening of a too-tight bandage gives to a wounded man. He generally +came at tea-time when Fay was at her best, and he brought her news of +her little world at Dariawarpur. To her sister he seemed the one link +with reality. Without him the heavy dream would have gone on unbroken. +Fay was always most eager he should take Jan out, and, though at first +Jan had been unwilling, she gradually came to look upon such times as a +blessed break in the monotonous restraint of her day. With him she was +natural, said what she felt, expressed her fears, and never failed to +return comforted and more hopeful. + +One night he took her to the Yacht Club, and Jan was glad she had gone, +because it gave her so much to tell Fay when she got back. + +It was a very odd experience for Jan, this tea on the crowded lawn of +the Yacht Club. She turned hot when people looked at her, and Jan had +always felt so sure of herself before, so proud to be a daughter of +brilliant, lovable Anthony Ross. + +Here, she knew that her sole claim to notice was that she had the +misfortune to be Hugo Tancred's sister-in-law. Fay, too, had once been +joyfully proud and confident--and now! + +Sometimes in the long, still days Jan wondered whether their father had +brought them up to expect too much from life, to take their happiness +too absolutely as a matter of course. Anthony Ross had fully subscribed +to the R.L.S. doctrine that happiness is a duty. When they were both +quite little girls he had loved to hear them repeat: + + If I have faltered more or less + In my great task of happiness; + If I have moved among my race + And shown no glorious morning face; + If beams from happy human eyes + Have moved me not; if morning skies, + Books, and my food and summer rain + Knocked on my sullen heart in vain; + Lord, Thy most pointed pleasure take, + And stab my spirit broad awake. + +Surely as young girls they had both shown a "glorious morning face." Who +more so than poor Fay? So gay and beautiful and kind. Why had this come +upon her, this cruel, numbing disgrace and sorrow? Jan was thoroughly +rebellious. Again she went over that time in Scotland six years before, +when, at a big shooting-box up in Sutherland, they met, among other +guests, handsome Hugo Tancred, home on leave. How he had, almost at +first sight, fallen violently in love with Fay. How he had singled her +out for every deferent and delicate attention; how she, young, +enthusiastic, happy and flattered, had fallen quite equally in love with +him. Jan recalled her father's rather comical dismay and astonishment. +His horror when they pressed an immediate marriage, so that Fay might go +out with Hugo in November. And his final giving-in to everything Fay +wanted because Fay wanted it. + +Did her father really like Hugo Tancred? she wondered. And then came the +certainty that he wouldn't ever have liked anybody much who wanted to +marry either of them; but he was far too just and too imaginative to +stand in the way where, what seemed, the happiness of his daughter was +concerned. + +"What a gamble it all is," thought Jan, and felt inclined to thank +heaven that she was neither so fascinating nor as susceptible as Fay. + +How were they to help to set Hugo Tancred on his legs again, and +reconstruct something of a future for Fay? And then there always +sounded, like a knell, Fay's tired, pathetic voice: "Don't bother to +make plans for me, Jan. For the children, yes, as much as you like. You +are so clever and constructive--but leave me out, dear, for it's just a +waste of time." + +And the dreadful part of it was that Jan felt a growing conviction that +Fay was right. And what was more, that Peter felt about it exactly as +Fay did, in spite of his matter-of-fact optimism at all such times as +Jan dared to express her dread. + +Peter learned a good deal about the Ross family in those talks with Jan. +She was very frank about her affairs, told him what money she had and +how it was invested. That the old house in Gloucestershire was hers, +left directly to her and not to her father, by a curious freak on the +part of his aunt, one Janet Ross, who disapproved of Anthony's habit of +living up to whatever he made each year by his pictures, and saving +nothing that he earned. + +"My little girls are safe, anyway," he always said. "Their mother's +money is tied up on them, though they don't get it except with my +sanction till my death. I can't touch the capital. Why, then, shouldn't +we have an occasional flutter when I have a good year, while we are all +young and can enjoy things?" + +They had a great many flutters--for Anthony's pictures sold well among a +rather eclectic set. His portraits had a certain _cachet_ that gave them +a vogue. They were delicate, distinguished, and unlike other work. The +beauties without brains never succeeded in getting Anthony Ross to paint +them, bribed they never so. But the clever beauties were well satisfied, +and the clever who were not at all beautiful felt that Anthony Ross +painted their souls, so they were satisfied, too. Besides, he made their +sittings so delightful and flirted with them with such absolute +discretion always. The year that Hugo Tancred met Fay was a particularly +good year, and Anthony had bought a touring-car, and they all went up to +Scotland in it. The girls were always well dressed and went out a good +deal. Young as she was, Jan was already an excellent manager and a +pleasant hostess. She had been taking care of her father from the time +she was twelve years old, and knew exactly how to manage him. When there +was plenty of money she let him launch out; when it was spent she made +him draw in again, and he was always quite ready to do so. Money as +money had no charms for Anthony Ross, but the pleasures it could +provide, the kindnesses it enabled him to do, the easy travel and the +gracious life were precious to him. He abhorred debt in any form and +paid his way as he went; lavishly when he had it, justly and exactly +always. + +On hearing all this Peter came to the conclusion that Hugo Tancred was +not altogether to blame if he had expected a good deal more financial +assistance from his father-in-law than he got. Anthony made no marriage +settlement on Fay. He allowed her two hundred a year for her personal +expenses and considered that Hugo Tancred should manage the running of +his own house out of his quite comfortable salary. He had, of course, no +smallest inkling of Hugo's debts or gambling propensities. And all might +have gone well if only Anthony Ross had made a new will when Fay +married; a will which tied up her mother's money and anything he might +leave her, so that she couldn't touch the capital. But nothing of the +kind was done. + +It never occurred to Jan to think of wills. + +Anthony Ross was strong and cheerful and so exceedingly young at +fifty-two that it seemed absurd that he should have grown-up daughters, +quite ludicrous that he should be a grandfather. + +Many charming ladies would greatly like to have occupied the position of +stepmother to "those nice girls," but Anthony, universal lover as he was +within strictly platonic limits, showed no desire to give his girls +anything of the sort. Jan satisfied his craving for a gracious and +well-ordered comfort in all his surroundings. Fay gratified his sthetic +appreciation of beauty and gentleness. What would he do with a third +woman who might introduce discord into these harmonies? + +Fay came home for a short visit when Tony was six months old, as Hugo +had not got a very good station just then. She was prettier than ever, +seemed perfectly happy, and both Anthony and Jan rejoiced in her. + +After she went out the Tancreds moved to Dariawarpur, which was +considered one of the best stations in their province, and there little +Fay was born, and it was arranged that Jan and her father were to visit +India and Fay during the next cold weather. + +But early in the following November Anthony Ross got influenza, +recovered, went out too soon, got a fresh chill, and in two days +developed double pneumonia. + +His heart gave out, and before his many friends had realised he was at +all seriously ill, he died. + +Jan, stunned, bewildered, and heart-broken, yet contrived to keep her +head. She got rid of the big house in St. George's Square and most of +the servants, finally keeping only Hannah, her old Scottish nurse. She +paid everybody, rendered a full account of her stewardship to Fay and +Hugo, and then prepared to go out to India as had been arranged. Her +heart cried out for her only sister. + +To her surprise this proposition met with but scant enthusiasm. It +seemed the Tancreds' plans were uncertain; perhaps it might be better +for Fay and the children to come home in spring instead of Jan going out +to them. Hugo's letters were ambiguous and rather cold; Fay's a curious +mixture of abandonment and restraint; but the prevailing note of both +was "would she please do nothing in a hurry, but wait." + +So, of course, Jan waited. + +She waited two years, growing more anxious and puzzled as time went on. +Her lawyer protested unavailingly at Hugo's perpetual demands (of +course, backed up by Fay) for more and more capital that he might +"re-invest" it. Fay's letters grew shorter and balder and more +constrained. At last, quite suddenly, came the imperative summons to go +out at once to be with Fay when the new baby should arrive. + +And now after three weeks in Bombay Jan felt that she had never known +any other life, that she never would know any other life than this +curious dream-like existence, this silent, hopeless waiting for +something as afflicting as it was inevitable. + +There had been a great fire in the cotton green towards Colaba. It had +blazed all night, and, in spite of the efforts of the Bombay firemen and +their engines, was still blazing at six o'clock the following evening. + +Peter took Jan in his car out to see it. There was an immense crowd, so +they left the car on its outskirts and plunged into the throng on foot. +On either side of the road were tall, flimsy houses with a wooden +staircase outside; those curious tenements so characteristic of the +poorer parts of Bombay, and in such marked contrast to the "Fort," the +European quarter of the town. They were occupied chiefly by Eurasians +and very poor Europeans. That the road was a sea of mud, varied by quite +deep pools of water, seemed the only possible reason why such houses +were not also burning. + +Jan splashed bravely through the mud, interested and excited by the +people and the leaping flames so dangerously near. It was growing dusk; +the air was full of the acrid smell of burnt cotton, and the red glow +from the sky was reflected on the grave brown faces watching the fire. + +Any crowd in Bombay is always extremely varied, and Jan almost forgot +her anxieties in her enjoyment of the picturesque scene. + +"I don't think the people ought to be allowed to throng on the top of +that staircase," Peter said suddenly. "They aren't built to hold a +number at once; there'll be an accident," and he left her side for a +moment to speak to an inspector of police. + +Jan looked up at a tall house on her left, where sightseers were +collecting on the staircase to get a better view. Every window was +crowded with gazers, all but one. From one, quite at the top, a solitary +watcher looked out. + +There was a sudden shout from the crowd below, a redder glow as more +piled cotton fell into the general furnace and blazed up, and in that +moment Jan saw that the solitary watcher was Hugo Tancred, and that he +recognised her. She gave a little gasp of horror, which Peter heard as +he joined her again. "What is it?" he said. "What has frightened you?" + +Jan pointed upwards. "I've just seen Hugo," she whispered. "There, in +one of those windows--the empty one. Oh, what can he be doing in those +dreadful houses, and why is he in Bombay all this time and never a word +to Fay?" + +Jan was trembling. Peter put his hand under her arm and walked on with +her. + +"I knew he was in Bombay," he said, "but I didn't think the poor devil +was reduced to this." + +"What is to be done?" Jan exclaimed. "If he comes and worries Fay for +money now, it will kill her. She thinks he is safely out of India. What +_is_ to be done?" + +"Nothing," said Peter. "He'll go the very minute he can, and you may be +sure he'll raise the wind somehow. He's got all sorts of queer irons in +the fire. He daren't appear at the flat, or some of his creditors would +cop him for debt--it's watched day and night, I know. Just let it alone. +I'd no idea he was hiding in this region or I wouldn't have brought you. +We all want him to get clear. He might file his petition, but it would +only rake up all the old scandals, and they know pretty well there's +nothing to be got out of him." + +"He looked so dreadful, so savage and miserable," Jan said with a +half-sob. + +"Well--naturally," said Peter. "You'd feel savage and miserable if you +were in his shoes." + +"But oughtn't I to help him? Send him money, I mean." + +"Not one single anna. It'll take you all your time to get his family +home and keep them when you get there. Have you seen enough? Shall we go +back?" + +"You don't think he'll molest Fay?" + +"I'm certain of it." + +"Please take me home. I shall never feel it safe to leave Fay again for +a minute." + +"That's nonsense, you know," said Peter. + +"It's what I feel," said Jan. + +It was that night Tony's extempore prayer was echoed so earnestly by his +aunt. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE HUMAN TOUCH + + +Three days later Jan got a note from Peter telling her that Hugo Tancred +had left Bombay and was probably leaving India at once from one of the +smaller ports. + +He had not attempted to communicate in person or by letter with either +Jan or his wife. + +Early in the morning, just a week from the time Jan had seen Hugo +Tancred at the window of that tall house near the cotton green, Fay's +third child, a girl, was still-born; and Fay, herself, never recovered +consciousness all day. A most competent nurse had been in the house +nearly a week, the doctor had done all that human skill could do, but +Fay continued to sink rapidly. + +About midnight the nurse, who had been standing by the bed with her +finger on Fay's pulse, moved suddenly and gently laid down the weak hand +she had been holding. She looked warningly across at Jan, who knelt at +the other side, her eyes fixed on the pale, beautiful face that looked +so wonderfully young and peaceful. + +Suddenly Fay opened her eyes and smiled. She looked right past Jan, +exclaiming joyfully, "There you are at last, Daddie, and it's broad +daylight." + + * * * * * + +For Jan it was still the middle of the Indian night and very dark +indeed. + +The servants were all asleep; the little motherless children safely +wrapped in happy unconsciousness in their nursery with Ayah. + +The last sad offices had been done for Fay, and the nurse, tired out, +was also sleeping--on Jan's bed. + +Jan, alone of all the household, kept watch, standing in the verandah, a +ghostly figure, still in the tumbled white muslin frock she had had no +time all day to change. + +It was nearly one o'clock. Motors and carriages were beginning to come +back from Government House, where there was a reception. The motor-horns +and horses' hoofs sounded loud in the wide silent street, and the head +lights swept down the Queen's Road like fireflies in flight. + +Jan turned on the light in the verandah. Peter would perhaps look up and +see her standing there, and realise why she kept watch. Perhaps he would +stop and come up. + +She wanted Peter desperately. + +Compassed about with many relatives and innumerable friends at home, out +here Jan was singularly alone. In all that great city she knew no one +save Peter, the doctor and the nurse. Some few women, knowing all the +circumstances, had called and were ready to be kind and helpful and +friendly, as women are all over India, but Fay would admit none but +Peter--even to see Jan; and always begged her not to return the calls +"till it was all over." + +Well, it was all over now. Fay would never be timid and ashamed any +more. + +Jan had not shed a tear. The longing to cry that had assailed her so +continuously in her first week had entirely left her. She felt +clear-headed and cold and bitterly resentful. She would like to have +made Hugo Tancred go in front of her into that quiet room and forced him +to look at the girlish figure on the bed--his handiwork. She wanted to +hurt him, to make him more wretched than he was already. + +A car stopped in the street below. Jan went very quietly to the door of +the flat and listened at the top of the staircase. + +Steps were on the stairs, but they stopped at one of the flats below. + +Presently another car stopped. Again she went out and listened. The +steps came up and up and she switched on the light in the passage. + +This time it was Peter. + +He looked very tired. + +"I thought you would come," Jan said. "She died at midnight." + +Peter closed the outer door, and taking Jan by the arm led her back into +the sitting-room, where he put her in a corner of the big sofa and sat +down beside her. + +He could not speak, and Jan saw that the tears she could not shed were +in his eyes, those large dark eyes that could appear so sombre and then +again so kind. + +Jan watched him enviously. She was acutely conscious of trifling things. +She even noticed what very black eyebrows he had and how--as always, +when he was either angry or deeply moved--the veins in his forehead +stood out in a strongly-marked V. + +"It was best, I think," Jan said, and even to herself her voice sounded +like the voice of a stranger. "She would have been very unhappy if she +had lived." + +Peter started at the cool, hard tones, and looked at her. Then, simply +and naturally, like a child, he took her hand and held it; and there was +that in the human contact, in the firm, comfortable clasp, that seemed +to break something down in Jan, and all at once she felt weak and faint +and trembling. She leaned her head against the pillows piled high in the +corner where Fay had always rested. The electric light in the verandah +seemed suddenly to recede to an immense distance and became a tiny +luminous pin-head, like a far lone star. + +She heard Peter moving about in the dining-room behind and clinking +things, but she felt quite incapable of going to see what he was doing +or of trying to be hospitable--besides, it was his house, he knew where +things were, and she was so tired. + +And then he was standing over her, holding a tumbler against her +chattering teeth. + +"Drink it," he said, and, though his voice sounded far away, it was firm +and authoritative. "Quick; don't pretend you can't swallow, for you +can." + +He tipped the glass, and something wet and cold ran over her chin: +anything was better than that, and she tried to drink. As she did so +she realised she was thirsty, drank it all eagerly and gasped. + +"Have you had anything to eat all day?" the dominating voice went on; it +sounded much nearer now. + +"I can't remember," she said, feebly. "Oh, why did you give me all that +brandy, it's made me so muzzy and confused, and there's so much I ought +to see to." + +"You rest a bit first--you'll be all right presently." + +Someone lifted her by the knees and put the whole of her on the sofa. It +was very comfortable; she was not so cold now. She lay quite still and +closed her eyes. She had not had a real night's sleep since she reached +Bombay. Fay was always restless and nervous, and Jan had not had her +clothes off for forty-eight hours. The long strain was over, there was +nothing to watch and wait for now. She would do as that voice said, rest +for a few minutes. + +There was a white chuddah shawl folded on the end of the sofa. Fay had +liked it spread over her knees, for she was nearly always chilly. + +Peter opened it and laid it very lightly over Jan, who never stirred. + +Then he sat down in a comfortable chair some distance off, where she +would see him if she woke, and reviewed the situation, which was +unconventional, certainly. + +He had sent his car away when he arrived, as it was but a step to the +Yacht Club where he slept. Now, he felt he couldn't leave, for if Jan +woke suddenly she would feel confused and probably frightened. + +"I never thought so little brandy could have had such an effect," Peter +reflected half ruefully. "I suppose it's because she'd had nothing to +eat. It's about the best thing that could have happened, but I never +meant to hocus her like this." + +There she lay, a long white mound under the shawl. She had slipped her +hand under her cheek and looked pathetically young and helpless. + +"I wonder what I'd better do," thought Peter. + +Mrs. Grundy commanded him to go at once. Common humanity bade him stay. + +Peter was very human, and he stayed. + +About half-past five Jan woke. She was certainly confused, but not in +the least frightened. It was light, not brilliantly light as it would be +a little later on, but clear and opalescent, as though the sun were +shining through fold upon fold of grey-blue gauze. + +The electric light in the verandah and the one over Peter's head were +still burning and looked garish and wan, and Jan's first coherent +thought was, "How dreadfully wasteful to have had them on all +night--Peter's electric light, too"--and then she saw him. + +His body was crumpled up in the big chair; his legs were thrust out +stiffly in front of him. He looked a heartrending interpretation of +discomfort in his evening clothes, for he hadn't even loosened the +collar. He had thought of it, but felt it might be disrespectful to Jan. +Besides, there was something of the chaperon about that collar. + +Jan's tears that had refused to soften sorrow during the anguish of the +night came now, hot and springing, to blur that absurd, pathetic figure +looped sideways in the big chair. + +It was so plain why he was there. + +She sniffed helplessly (of course, she had lost her handkerchief), and +thrust her knuckles into her eyes like any schoolboy. + +When she could see again she noticed how thin was the queer, irregular +face, with dark hollows round the eyes. + +"I wonder if they feed him properly at that Yacht Club," thought Jan. +"And here are we using his house and his cook and everything." + +She swung her feet off the sofa and disentangled them from the shawl, +folded it neatly and sat looking at Peter, who opened his eyes. + +For a full minute they stared at each other in silence, then he +stretched himself and rose. + +"I say, have you slept?" he asked. + +"Till a minute ago ... Mr. Ledgard ... why did you stay? It was angelic +of you, but you must be so dreadfully tired. I feel absolutely rested +and, oh, so grateful--but so ashamed...." + +"Then you must have some tea," said Peter, inconsequently. "I'll go and +rouse up Lalkhan and the cook. We can't get any ourselves, for he locks +up the whole show every blessed night." + + * * * * * + +In the East burial follows death with the greatest possible speed. Peter +and the doctor and the nurse arranged everything. A friend of Peter's +who had little children sent for Ayah and Tony and little Fay to spend +the day, and Jan was grateful. + +Fay and her baby were laid in the English cemetery, and Jan was left to +face the children as best she could. + +They had been happy, Ayah said, with the kind lady and her children. +Tony went straight to his mother's room, the room that had been closed +to him for three whole days. + +He came back to Jan and stood in front of her, searching her face with +his grave, judging gaze. + +"What have you done with my Mummy?" he asked. "Have you carried her away +and put her somewhere like you do Fay when she's naughty? You're strong +enough." + +"Oh, Tony!" Jan whispered piteously. "I would have kept her if I could, +but I wasn't strong enough for that." + +"Who has taken her, then?" Tony persisted. "Where is she? I've been +everywhere, and she isn't in the bungalow." + +"God has taken her, Tony." + +"What for?" + +"I think," Jan said, timidly, "it was because she was very tired and ill +and unhappy----" + +"But is she happier now and better?" + +"I hope so, I believe she is ... quite happy and well." + +"You're sure?" And Tony's eyes searched Jan's face. "You're sure _you_ +haven't put her somewhere?" + +"Tony, I want Mummy every bit as much as you do. Be a little good to +me, sonny, for I'm dreadfully sad." + +Jan held out her hand and Tony took it doubtfully. She drew him nearer. + +"Try to be good to me, Tony, and love me a little ... it's all so hard." + +"I'll be good," he said, gravely, "because I promised Mummy ... but I +can't love you yet--because--" here Tony sighed deeply, "I don't seem to +feel like it." + +"Never mind," said Jan, lifting him on to her knee. "Never mind. I'll +love you an extra lot to make up." + +"And Fay?" he asked. + +"And Fay--we must both love Fay more than ever now." + +"I do love Fay," Tony said, "because I'm used to her. She's been here a +long time...." + +Suddenly his mouth went down at the corners and he leant against Jan's +shoulder to hide his face. "I do want Mummy so," he whispered, as the +slow, difficult tears welled over and fell. "I like so much to look at +her." + + * * * * * + +It was early afternoon, the hot part of the day. The children were +asleep and Jan sat on the big sofa, finishing a warm jersey for little +Fay to wear towards the end of the voyage. Peter, by means of every +scrap of interest he possessed, had managed to secure her a three-berth +cabin in a mail boat due to leave within the next fortnight. He insisted +that she must take Ayah, who was more than eager to go, and that Ayah +could easily get a passage back almost directly with people he knew who +were coming out soon after Jan got home. He had written to them, and +they would write to meet the boat at Aden. + +There was nothing Peter did not seem able to arrange. + +In the flat below a lady was singing the "Indian Love Lyrics" from the +"Garden of Khama." She had a powerful voice and sang with considerable +passion. + + Less than the dust beneath thy chariot wheel, + Less than the rust that never stained thy sword. + +Jan frowned and fidgeted. + +The song went on, finished, and then the lady sang it all over again. +Jan turned on the electric fan, for it was extremely hot, and the strong +contralto voice made her feel even hotter. The whirr of the fan in no +way drowned the voice, which now went on to proclaim with much _brio_ +that the temple bells were ringing and the month of marriages was +drawing near. And then, very slowly and solemnly, but quite as loudly as +before, came "When I am dying, lean over me tenderly----" + +Jan got up and stamped. Then she went swiftly for her topee and gloves +and parasol, and fled from the bungalow. + +Lalkhan rushed after her to ask if she wanted a "tikka-gharri." He +strongly disapproved of her walking in the streets alone, but Jan shook +her head. The lift-man was equally eager to procure one, but again Jan +defeated his desire and walked out into the hot street. Somehow she +couldn't bear "The Garden of Khama" just then. It was Hugo Tancred's +favourite verse, and was among the few books Fay appeared to possess, +Fay who was lying in the English cemetery, and so glad to be there ... +at twenty-five. + +What was the good of life and love, if that was all it led to? In spite +of the heat Jan walked feverishly and fast, down the shady side of the +Mayo Road into Esplanade Road, where the big shops were, and, just then, +no shade at all. + +The hot dust seemed to rise straight out of the pavement and strike her +in the face, and all the air was full of the fat yellow smell that +prevails in India when its own inhabitants have taken their mid-day +meal. + +Each bare-legged gharri-man slumbered on the little box of his carriage, +hanging on in that amazingly precarious fashion in which natives of the +East seem able to sleep anywhere. + +On Jan went, anywhere, anywhere away from the garden of Khama and that +travesty of love, as she conceived it. She remembered the day when she +thought them such charming songs and thrilled in sympathy with Fay when +Hugo sang them. Oh, why did that woman sing them to-day? Would she ever +get the sound out of her ears? + +She had reached Churchgate Street, which was deserted and deep in shade. +She turned down and presently came to the Cathedral standing in its trim +garden bright with English flowers. The main door was open and Jan went +in. + +Here the haunting love-lyrics were hushed. It was so still, not even a +sweeper to break the blessed peace. + +Restlessly, Jan walked round the outer aisles, reading the inscriptions +on marble tablets and brasses, many of them dating back to the later +eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. Men died young out in India +in those days; hardly any seemed to live beyond forty-two, many died in +the twenties. On nearly all the tablets the words "zeal" or "zealous" +regularly appeared. With regard to their performance of their duties +these dead and gone men who had helped to make the India of to-day had +evidently had a very definite notion as to their own purpose in life. +The remarks were guarded and remarkably free from exaggerated tributes +to the virtues they celebrated. One Major-General Bellasis was described +as "that very respectable Officer--who departed this life while he was +in the meritorious discharge of his duty presiding at the Military +Board." Others died "from exposure to the sun"; nearly all seemed to +have displayed "unremitting" or "characteristic zeal" in the discharge +of their duties. + +Jan sat down, and gradually it seemed as though the spirits and souls of +those departed men, those ordinary everyday men--whose descendants might +probably be met any day in the Yacht Club now--seemed to surround her in +a great company, all pointing in one direction and with one voice +declaring, "This is the WAY." + +Jan fell on her knees and prayed that her stumbling feet might be +guided upon it, that she should in no wise turn aside, however steep and +stony it might prove. + +And as she knelt there came upon her the conviction that here was the +true meaning of life as lived upon the earth; just this, that each +should do his job. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE END OF THE DREAM + + +She walked back rather slowly. It was a little cooler, but dusty, and +the hot pavements made her feet ache. She was just wondering whether she +would take a gharri when a motor stopped at the curb and Peter got out. + +"What are you doing?" he asked crossly. "Why are you walking in all this +heat? You can't play these games in India. Get in." + +He held the door open for her. + +"Good afternoon, Mr. Ledgard," Jan said, sweetly. "Is it worth while for +such a little way?" + +"Get in," Peter said again, and Jan meekly got in. + +"I was just coming to see you, and I could have taken you anywhere you +wanted to go, if only you'd waited. Why didn't you take a gharri?" + +"Since you must know," Jan said, smiling at the angry Peter, "I went out +because I wanted to go out. And I walked because I wanted to walk." + +"You can't do things just because you want to do 'em in this infernal +country--you must consider whether it's a suitable time." + +Jan made no answer, and silence reigned till they reached the bungalow. + +Peter followed her in. + +"Where did you go?" he asked. "And why?" + +"I went to the Cathedral, and my reason was that I simply couldn't stay +in the bungalow because the lady below was singing 'Less than the +dust.'" + +"I know," Peter said grimly. "Just the sort of thing she would sing." + +"She sang very well," Jan owned honestly, "but when Fay was first +engaged she and Hugo used to sing those songs to each other--it seemed +all day long--and this afternoon I couldn't bear it. It seemed such a +sham somehow--so false and unreal, if it only led--to this." + +"It's real enough while it lasts, you know," Peter remarked in the +detached, elderly tone he sometimes adopted. "That sort of thing's all +right for an episode, but it's a bit too thin for marriage." + +"But surely episodes often end in marriage?" + +"Not that sort, and if they do it's generally pretty disastrous. A woman +who felt she was less than the dust and rust and weeds and all that rot +wouldn't be much good to a man who had to do his job, for she wouldn't +do hers, you know." + +"Then you, too, think that's the main thing--to do your job?" + +"It seems to me it's the only thing that justifies one's existence. +Anyway, to try to do it decently." + +"And you don't think one ought to expect to be happy and have things go +smoothly?" + +"Well, they won't always, you know, whether you expect it or not; but +the job remains, so it's just as well to make up your mind to it." + +"I suppose," Jan said thoughtfully, "that's a religion." + +"It pans out as well as most," said Peter. + +The days that had gone so slowly went quickly enough now. Jan had much +to arrange and no word came from Hugo. She succeeded in getting the +monthly bills from the cook, and paid them, and very timidly she asked +Peter if she might pay the wages for the time his servants had waited +upon them; but Peter was so huffy and cross she never dared to mention +it again. + +The night before they all sailed Peter dined with her, and, after +dinner, took her for one last drive over Malabar Hill. The moon was +full, and when they reached Ridge Road he stopped the car and they got +out and stood on the cliff, looking over the city just as they had done +on her first evening in Bombay. + +Some scented tree was in bloom and the air was full of its soft +fragrance. + +For some minutes they stood in silence, then Jan broke it by asking: +"Mr. Ledgard, could Hugo take the children from me?" + +"He could, of course, legally--but I don't for a minute imagine he will, +for he couldn't keep them. What about his people? Will they want to +interfere?" + +"I don't think so; from the little he told us they are not very well +off. They live in Guernsey. His father was something in salt, I think, +out here. We've none of us seen them. They didn't come to Fay's +wedding. I gather they are very strict in their views--both his father +and mother--and there are two sisters. But Fay said Hugo hardly ever +wrote--or heard from them." + +"There's just one thing you must face, Miss Ross," and Peter felt a +brute as he looked at Jan pale and startled in the bright moonlight. +"Hugo Tancred might marry again." + +"Oh, surely no one would marry him after all this!" + +"Whoever did would probably know nothing of 'all this.' Remember Hugo +Tancred has a way with women; he's a fascinating chap when he likes, +he's good-looking and plausible, and always has an excellent reason for +all his misfortunes. If he does marry again he'll marry money, and +_then_ he might demand the children." + +"Perhaps she wouldn't want them." + +"We'll hope not." + +"And I can do nothing--nothing to make them safe?" + +"I fear--nothing--only your best for them." + +"I'll do that," said Jan. + +They stood shoulder to shoulder in the scented stillness of the night. +The shadows were black and sharp in the bright moonlight and the +tom-toms throbbed in the city below. + +"I wonder," Jan said presently, "if I shall ever be able to do anything +for you, Mr. Ledgard. You have done everything for us out here." + +"Would you really like to do something?" Peter asked eagerly. "I +wouldn't have mentioned it if you hadn't said that just now. Would you +write pretty often? You see, I've no people of my very own. Aunts and +uncles and cousins don't keep in touch with one out here. They're kind, +awfully kind when I go home on leave, but it takes a man's own folk to +remember to write every mail." + +"I'll write every mail," Jan promised eagerly, "and when you take your +next leave, remember we expect you at Wren's End." + +"I'll remember," said Peter, "and it may be sooner than you think." + +They sailed next day. Jan had spent six weeks in Bombay, and the whole +thing seemed a dream. + +The voyage back was very different from the voyage out. The boat was +crowded, and nearly all were Service people going home on leave. Jan +found them very kind and friendly, and the children, with plenty of +others to play with, were for the most part happy and good. + +The journey across France was rather horrid. Little Fay was as +obstreperous as Tony was disagreeably silent and aloof. Jan thanked +heaven when the crowded train steamed into Charing Cross. + +There, at the very door of their compartment, a girl was waiting. A girl +so small, she might have been a child except for a certain decision and +capability about everything she did. She seized Jan, kissed her +hurriedly and announced that she had got a nice little furnished flat +for them till they should go to the country, and that Hannah had tea +ready; this young person, herself, helped to carry their smaller +baggage to a taxi, packed them in, demanded Jan's keys and announced +that she would bring the luggage in another taxi. She gave the address +to the man, and a written slip to Jan, and vanished to collect their +cabin baggage. + +It was all done so briskly and efficiently that it left Ayah and the +children quite breathless, accustomed as they were to the leisurely +methods of the East. + +"Who is vat mem?" asked little Fay, as the taxi door was slammed by this +energetic young person. + +"Is she quite a mem?" suggested the accurate Tony. "Is she old enough or +big enough?" + +"Who is vat mem?" little Fay repeated. + +"That," said Jan with considerable satisfaction in her voice, "is Meg." + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +MEG + + +It was inevitable as the refrain of a _rondeau_ that when Jan said +"that's Meg" little Fay should demand "What nelse?" + +Now there was a good deal of "nelse" about Meg, and she requires some +explanation, going back several years. + +Like most Scots, Anthony Ross had been faithful to his relations whether +he felt affection for them or not; sometimes even when they had not a +thought in common with him and he rather disliked them than otherwise. + +And this was so in the case of one Amelia Ross, his first cousin, who +was head-mistress of a flourishing and well-established school for +"young ladies," in the Regent's Park district. + +She had been a head-mistress for many years, and was well over fifty +when she married a meek, small, nothingly man who had what Thackeray +calls "a little patent place." And it appeared that she added the +husband to the school in much the same spirit as she would have +increased the number of chairs in her dining-room, and with no more +appreciable result in her life. On her marriage she became Mrs. +Ross-Morton, and Mr. Morton went in and out of the front door, +breakfasted and dined at Ribston Hall, caught his bus at the North Gate +and went daily to his meek little work. It is presumed that he lived on +terms of affectionate intimacy with his wife, but no one who saw them +together could have gathered this. + +Now Anthony Ross disliked his cousin Amelia. He detested her school, +which he considered was one of the worst examples of a bad old period. +He suspected her of being hard and grasping, he knew she was dull, and +her husband bored him--not to tears, but to profanity. Yet since she was +his cousin and a hard-working, upright woman, and since they had played +together as children in Scotland and her father and mother had been kind +to him then, he could never bring himself to drop Amelia. Not for worlds +would he have allowed Jan or Fay to go to her school, but he did allow +them, or rather he humbly entreated them, to visit it occasionally when +invited to some function or other. Jan's education after her mother's +death had been the thinnest scrape sandwiched between many household +cares and much attendance upon her father's whims. Fay was allowed +classes and visiting governesses, but their father could never bring +himself to spare either of them to the regular discipline of school, and +Cousin Amelia bewailed the desultory training of Anthony's children. + +In 1905, Jan and Fay had been to a party at Ribston Hall: tea in the +garden followed by a pastoral play. Anthony was sitting in the balcony, +smoking, when the girls came back. He saw their hansom and ran +downstairs to meet them, as he always did. They were a family who went +in for affectionate greetings. + +"Daddie," cried Fay, seizing her father by the arm, "one of the seven +wonders of the world has happened. We have found an interesting person +at Ribston Hall." + +Jan took the other arm. "We can't possibly tell you all about it under +an hour, so we'd better go and sit in the balcony." And they gently +propelled him towards the staircase. + +"Not if you're going to discuss Cousin Amelia," Anthony protested. "You +have carrying voices, both of you." + +"Cousin Amelia is only incidental," Jan said, when they were all three +seated in the balcony. "The main theme is concerned with a queer little +pixie creature called Meg Morton. She's a pupil-governess, and she's +sixteen and a half--just the same age as Fay." + +"She doesn't reach up to Jan's elbow," Fay added, "and she chaperons the +girls for music and singing, and sits in the drawing-class because the +master can't be quite seventy yet." + +"She's the wee-est thing you ever saw, and they dress her in Cousin +Amelia's discarded Sunday frocks." + +"That's impossible," Anthony interrupted. "Amelia is so massive and +square; if the girl's so small she'd look like 'the Marchioness.'" + +"She does, she does!" Jan cried delightedly. "Of course the garments are +'made down,' but in the most elderly way possible. Daddie, can you +picture a Botticelli angel of sixteen, with masses of Titian-red hair, +clad in a queer plush garment once worn by Cousin Amelia, that retains +all its ancient frumpiness of line. And it's not only her appearance +that's so quaint, _she_ is quaint inside." + +"We were attracted by her hair," Fay went on "(You'll go down like a +ninepin before that hair), and we got her in a corner and hemmed her in +and declared it was her duty to attend to us because we were strangers +and shy, and in three minutes we were friends. Sixteen, Daddie! And a +governess-pupil in Cousin Amelia's school. She's a niece of the little +husband, and Cousin Amelia is preening herself like anything because she +takes her for nothing and makes her work like ten people." + +"Did the little girl say so?" + +"Of course not," Jan answered indignantly, "but Cousin Amelia did. Oh, +how thankful I am she is _your_ cousin, dear, and once-removed from us!" + +"How many generations will it take to remove her altogether?" Fay asked. +"However," she added, "if we can have the pixie out and give her a good +time I shan't mind the relationship so much. We _must_ do something, +Daddie. What shall it be?" + +Anthony Ross smoked thoughtfully and said very little. Perhaps he did +not even listen with marked attention, because he was enjoying his +girls. Just to see them healthy and happy; to know that they were +naturally kind and gay; to hear them frank and eager and +loquacious--sometimes gave him a sensation of almost physical pleasure. +He was like an idler basking in the sun, conscious of nothing but just +the warmth and comfort of it. + +Whatever those girls wanted they always got. Anthony's diplomacy was +requisitioned and was, as usual, successful; for, in spite of her +disapproval, Mrs. Ross-Morton could never resist her cousin's charm. +This time the result was that one Saturday afternoon in the middle of +June little Meg Morton, bearing a battered leather portmanteau and clad +in the most-recently-converted plush abomination, appeared at the tall +house in St. George's Square to stay over the week-end. + +It was the mid-term holiday, and from the first moment to the last the +visit was one almost delirious orgy of pleasure to the little +pupil-governess. + +It was also a revelation. + +It would be hard to conceive of anything odder than the appearance of +Meg Morton at this time. She just touched five feet in height, and was +very slenderly and delicately made, with absurd, tiny hands and feet. +Yet there was a finish about the thin little body that proclaimed her +fully grown. Her eyes, with their thick, dark lashes, looked overlarge +in the pale little pointed face; strange eyes and sombre, with big, +bright pupil, and curious dark-blue iris flecked with brown. Her +features were regular, and her mouth would have been pretty had the lips +not lacked colour. As it was, all the colour about Meg seemed +concentrated in her hair; red as a flame and rippled as a river under a +fresh breeze. There was so much of it, too, the little head seemed bowed +in apology beneath its weight. + +Yet for the time being Meg forgot to be apologetic about her hair, for +Anthony and his girls frankly admired it. + +These adorable, kind, amusing people actually admired it, and said so. +Hitherto Meg's experience had been that it was a thing to be slurred +over, like a deformity. If mentioned, it was to be deprecated. In the +strictly Evangelical circles where hitherto her lot had been cast, they +even tried vainly to explain it away. + +She had, of course, heard of artists, but she never expected to meet +any. That sort of thing lay outside the lives of those who had to make +their living as quickly as possible in beaten tracks; tracks so +well-beaten, in fact, that all the flowers had been trodden underfoot +and exterminated. + +Meg, at sixteen, had received so little from life that her expectations +were of the humblest. And as she stood before the glass in a pretty +bedroom, fastening her one evening dress (of shiny black silk that +crackled, made with the narrow V in front affected by Mrs. Ross-Morton), +preparatory to going to the play for the first time in her life, she +could have exclaimed, like the little old woman of the story, "This be +never I!" + +Anthony Ross was wholly surprising to Meg. + +This handsome, merry gentleman with thick, brown hair as crinkly as her +own; who was domineered over and palpably adored by these two, to her, +equally amazing girls--seemed so very, very young to be anybody's +father. + +He frankly owned to enjoying things. + +Now, according to Meg's experience, grown-up people--elderly +people--seldom enjoyed anything; above all, never alluded to their +enjoyment. + +Life was a thing to be endured with fortitude, its sorrows borne with +Christian resignation; its joys, if there were any joys, discreetly +slurred over. Joys were insidious, dangerous things that might lead to +the leaving undone of obvious duties. To seek joy and insure its being +shared by others, bravely and honestly believing it to be an excellent +thing, was to Meg an entirely unknown frame of mind. + +After the play, in Meg's room the three girls were brushing their hair +together; to be accurate, Jan was brushing Fay's and Meg admiring the +process. + +"Have you any sisters?" Jan asked. She was always interested in people's +relations. + +"No," said Meg. "There are, mercifully, only three of us, my two +brothers and me. If there had been any more I don't know what my poor +little Papa would have done." + +"Why do you call him your 'poor little papa'?" Fay asked curiously. + +"Because he is poor--dreadfully--and little, and very melancholy. He +suffers so from depression." + +"Why?" asked the downright Jan. + +"Partly because he has indigestion, _constant_ indigestion, and then +there's us, and boys are so expensive, they will grow so. It upsets him +dreadfully." + +"But they can't help growing," Fay objected. + +"It wouldn't matter so much if they didn't both do it at once. But you +see, there's only a year between them, and they're just about the same +size. If only one had been smaller, he could have worn the outgrown +things. As it is, it's always new clothes for both of them. Papa's are +no sort of use, and even the cheapest suits cost a lot, and boots are +perfectly awful." + +Meg looked so serious that Fay and Jan, who were like the lilies of the +field, and expected new and pretty frocks at reasonable intervals as a +matter of course, looked serious too; for the first time confronted by a +problem whose possibility they had never even considered before. + +"He must be pleased with you," Jan said, encouragingly. "_You're_ not +too big." + +"Yes, but then I'm not a boy. Papa's clothes would have made down for me +beautifully if I'd been a boy; as it is, they're no use." Meg sighed, +then added more cheerfully. "But I cost less in other ways, and several +relations send old clothes to me. They are never too small." + +"Do you like the relations' clothes?" Fay asked. + +"Of course not," said Meg, simply. "They are generally hideous; but, +after all, they cover me and save expense." + +The spoiled daughters of Anthony Ross gazed at Meg with horror-stricken +eyes. To them this seemed a most tragic state of things. + +"Do they all," Fay asked timidly, "wear such ... rich materials--like +Cousin Amelia?" + +"They're fond of plush, as a rule, but there's velveteen as well, and +sometimes a cloth dress. One was mustard-coloured, and embittered my +life for a whole year." + +Jan suddenly ceased to brush Fay's hair and went and sat on the bed +beside Meg and put her arm round her. Fay's pretty face, framed in +fluffy masses of fair hair, was solemn in excess of sympathy. + +"I shouldn't care a bit if only the boys were through Sandhurst and +safely into the Indian Army--but I do hate them having to go without +nearly everything. Trevor's a King's Cadet, but they wouldn't give us +two cadetships ... Still," she added, more cheerfully, "it's cheaper +than anything else for a soldier's son." + +"Is your father a soldier?" asked Jan. + +"Oh, yes, a major in the Westshires; but he had to leave the Army +because of his health, and his pension is very small, and mother had so +little money. I sometimes think it killed her trying to do everything on +nothing." + +"Were you quite small when she died?" Fay asked in a sympathetic +whisper. + +"Oh, no; I was nearly twelve, and quite as big as I am now. Then I kept +house while the boys were at Bedford, but when they went to Sandhurst +poor little Papa thought I'd better get some education, too, and Uncle +John's wife offered to take me for nothing, so here I am. HERE, it's too +wonderful. Who could have dreamed that Ribston Hall would lead to this?" +And Meg snuggled down in Jan's kind embrace, her red hair spread around +her like a veil. + +"Are some of the richly-dressed relations nice?" Jan asked hopefully. + +"I don't know if you'd think them nice--you seem to expect such a lot +from people--but they're quite kind--only it's a different sort of +kindness from yours here. They don't laugh and expect you to enjoy +yourself, like _your_ father. My brothers say they are dull ... they +call them--I'm afraid it's very ungrateful--the weariful rich. But I +expect we're weariful to them too. I suppose poor relations _are_ boring +if you're well-off yourself. But we get pretty tired, too, when they +talk us over." + +"But do you mean to say they talk you over _to_ you?" + +"Always," Meg said firmly. "How badly we manage, how improvident we are, +how Papa ought to rouse himself and I ought to manage better, and how +foolish it is to let the boys go into the Army instead of banks and +things ... And yet, you know, it hasn't cost much for Trevor, and once +he's in he'll be able to manage, and Jo said he'd enlist if there was +any more talk of banks, and poor little Papa had to give in--so there it +is." + +"How much older are they than you?" Jan asked. + +"Trevor's nineteen and Jo's eighteen, and they are the greatest darlings +in the world. They always lifted the heavy saucepans for me at Bedford, +and filled the buckets and did the outsides of the windows, and carried +up the coals to Papa's sitting-room before they went to school in the +morning, and they very seldom grumbled at my cooking...." + +"But where were the servants?" Fay asked innocently. + +Meg laughed. "Oh, we couldn't have any servants. A woman came in the +morning. Papa dined at his club, and I managed for the boys and me. But, +oh dear, they do eat a lot, and joints are so dear. Sheep's heads and +things pall if you have them more than once a week. They're such a mixty +sort of meat, so gummy." + +"_I_ can cook," Jan announced, then added humbly, "at least, I've been +to classes, but I don't get much practice. Cook isn't at all fond of +having me messing in her kitchen." + +"It isn't the cooking that's so difficult," said Meg; "it's getting +things to cook. It's all very well for the books to say 'Take' this and +that. My experience is that you can never 'take' anything. You have to +buy every single ingredient, and there's never anything like enough. We +tried being fruitarians and living on dates and figs and nuts all +squashed together, but it didn't seem to come a bit cheaper, for the +boys were hungry again directly and said it was hog-wash." + +"Was your papa a fruitarian too?" Fay asked. + +"Oh, no, he can't play those tricks; he has to be most careful. He never +had his meals with us. Our meals would have been too rough for him. I +got him breakfast and afternoon tea. He generally went out for the +others." + +Jan and Fay looked thoughtful. + + * * * * * + +Amelia Ross-Morton was a fair judge of character. When she consented to +take her husband's niece as a governess-pupil she had been dubious as to +the result. She very soon discovered, however, that the small red-haired +girl was absolutely trustworthy, that she had a power of keeping order +quite disproportionate to her size, that she got through a perfectly +amazing amount of work, and did whatever she was asked as a matter of +course. Thus she became a valuable factor in the school, receiving +nothing in return save her food and such clothes as Mrs. Ross-Morton +considered too shabby for her own wear. + +At the end of the first year Meg ceased to receive any lessons. Her day +was fully occupied in teaching the younger and chaperoning the elder +girls. Only one stipulation did she make at the beginning of each +term--that she should be allowed to accept, on all reasonable occasions, +the invitations of Anthony Ross and his daughters, and she made this +condition with so much firmness that Anthony's cousin knew better than +to be unreasonably domineering, as was her usual habit. Moreover, though +it was against her principles to do anything to further the enjoyment +of persons in a subordinate position, she was, in a way, flattered that +Anthony and his girls should thus single out her "niece by marriage" and +appear to enjoy her society. + +Thus it came about that Meg went a good deal to St. George's Square and +nearly always spent part of each holiday with Fay and Jan wherever they +happened to be. + +The queer clothes were kept for wear at Ribston Hall, and by +degrees--although she never had any money--she became possessed of +garments more suitable to her age and colouring. + +Again and again Anthony painted her. She sat for him with untiring +patience and devotion. She was always entirely at her ease with him, and +prattled away quite simply of the life that seemed to him so +inexpressibly hard and dreary. + +Only once had he interfered on her behalf at Ribston Hall, and then +sorely against Meg's will. She was sitting for him one day, with her +veil of flaming hair spread round her, when she said, suddenly, "I +wonder why it is incorrect to send invitations by post to people living +in the same town?" + +"But it isn't," Anthony objected. "Everybody does it." + +"Not in schools," Meg said firmly. "Mrs. Ross-Morton will never send +invitations to people living in London through the post--she says it +isn't polite. They must go by hand." + +"I never heard such nonsense," Anthony exclaimed crossly. "If she +doesn't send 'em by post, how _does_ she send them?" + +"I take them generally, in the evening, after school, and deliver them +at all the houses. Some are fairly near, of course--a lot of her friends +live in Regent's Park--but sometimes I have to go quite a long way by +bus. I don't mind that in summer, when it's light, but in winter it's +horrid going about the lonely roads ... People speak to one...." + +Anthony Ross stepped from behind his easel. + +"And what do you do?" he asked. + +"I run," Meg said simply, "and I can generally run much faster than they +do ... but it's a little bit frightening." + +"It's infernal," Anthony said furiously. "I shall speak to Amelia at +once. You are never to do it again." + +In vain did Meg plead, almost with tears, that he would do nothing of +the kind. He was roused and firm. + +He did "speak to Amelia." He astonished that good lady as much as he +annoyed her. Nevertheless Mrs. Ross-Morton used the penny post for her +invitations as long as Meg remained at Ribston Hall. + +At the end of two years Major Morton, who had removed from Bedford to +Cheltenham, wrote a long, querulous letter to his sister-in-law to the +effect that if--like the majority of girls nowadays--his daughter chose +to spend her life far from his sheltering care, it was time she earned +something. + +Mrs. Ross-Morton replied that only now was Meg beginning to repay all +the expense incurred on her behalf in the way of board, clothing and +tuition; and it was most unreasonable to expect any salary for quite +another year. + +Major Morton decided to remove Meg from Ribston Hall. + +Many acrimonious letters passed between her aunt and her father before +this was finally accomplished, and Meg left "under a cloud." + +To her great astonishment, her meek little uncle appeared at Paddington +to see her off. Just as the train was starting he thrust an envelope +into her hand. + +"It hasn't been fair," he almost shouted--for the train was already +beginning to move. "You worked hard, you deserved some pay ... a little +present ... but please don't mention it to your aunt ... She is so +decided in her views...." + +When Meg opened the envelope she found three ten-pound notes. She had +never seen so much money before, and burst into tears; but it was not +because of the magnitude of the gift. She felt she had never properly +appreciated her poor little uncle, and her conscience smote her. + +This was at Christmas. + +The weariful rich sat in conclave over Meg, and it was decided that she +should in March go as companion and secretary to a certain Mrs. Trent +slightly known to one of them. + +Mrs. Trent was kindly, careless, and quite generous as regards money. +She had grown-up daughters, and they lived in one of the Home Counties +where there are many country-houses and plenty of sport. Meg proved to +be exceedingly useful, did whatever she was asked to do, and a great +many things no one had ever done before. She shared in the fun, and for +the first time since her mother died was not overworked. + +Her employer was as keen on every form of pleasure as her own daughters. +She exercised the very smallest supervision over them and none at all +over the "quite useful" little companion. + +Many men came to the easy-going, lavish house, and Meg, with pretty +frocks, abundant leisure and deliriously prim Ribston-Hallish manners, +came in for her full share of admiration. + +It happened that at the end of July Anthony Ross came up to London in +the afternoon to attend and speak at a dinner in aid of some artists' +charity. He and Jan were staying with friends at Teddington; Fay, an +aunt and the servants were already at Wren's End--all but Hannah, the +severe Scottish housemaid, who remained in charge. She was grim and +gaunt and plain, with a thick, black moustache, and Anthony liked her +less than he could have wished. But she had been Jan's nurse, and was +faithful and trustworthy beyond words. He would never let Jan go to the +country ahead of him, for without her he always left behind everything +most vital to his happiness, so she was to join him next day and see +that his painting-tackle was all packed. + +The house in St. George's Square was nominally shut up and shrouded in +dust-sheets, but Hannah had "opened up" the dining-room on Anthony's +behalf, and there he sat and slumbered till she should choose to bring +him some tea. + +He was awakened by an opening door and Hannah's voice announcing, not +tea, but: + +"Miss Morton to see you, sir." + +There seemed a thousand "r's" in both the Morton and the sir, and +Anthony, who felt that there was something ominous and arresting in +Hannah's voice, was wide-awake before she could shut the door again. + +Sure enough it was Meg, clad in a long grey dust-cloak and motor bonnet, +the grey veil flung back from a very pale face. + +Meg, looking a wispy little shadow of woe. + +Anthony came forward with outstretched hands. + +"Meg, my child, what good wind has blown you here this afternoon? I +thought you were having ever such a gay time down in the country." + +But Meg made no effort to grasp the greeting hands. On the contrary, she +moved so that the whole width of the dining-room table was between them. + +"Wait," she said, "you mustn't shake hands with me till I tell you what +I've done ... perhaps you won't want to then." + +And Anthony saw that she was trembling. + +"Come and sit down," he said. "Something's wrong, I can see. What is +it?" + +But she stood where she was, looking at him with large, tragic eyes; +laid down a leather despatch-case she was carrying, and seized the edge +of the table as if for support. + +"I'd rather not sit down yet," she said. "Perhaps when you've heard what +I've got to tell you, you'll never want me to sit down in your house +again ... and yet ... I did pray so you'd be here ... I knew it was most +unlikely ... but I did pray so ... And you _are_ here." + +Anthony was puzzled. Meg was not given to making scenes or going into +heroics. + +It was evident that something had happened to shake her out of her usual +almost cynical calm. + +"You'd be much better to sit down," he said, soothingly. "You see, if +you stand, so must I, and it's such an uncomfortable way of talking." + +She pulled out a chair and sat down at the table, took off her gloves, +and two absurd small thumbs appeared above its edge, the knuckles white +and tense with the strength of her grip. + +Anthony seated himself in a deep chair beside the fireplace. He was in +shadow. Meg faced the light, and he was shocked at the appearance of the +little smitten face. + +"Now tell me," he said gently, "just as little or as much as you like." + +"This morning," she said hoarsely, "I ran away with a man ... in a +motor-car." + +Anthony was certainly startled, but all he said was, "That being the +case, why are you here, my dear, and what have you done with him?" + +"He was married...." + +"Have you only just found that out?" + +"No, I knew it all along. His wife is hard and disagreeable and older +than he is ... and he's thirty-five ... and they can't live together, +and she won't divorce him and he can't divorce her ... and I loved him +so much and thought how beautiful it would be to give up everything and +make it up to him." + +"Yes?" said Anthony, for Meg paused as though unable to go on. + +"And it seemed very wonderful and noble to do this, and I forgot my poor +little Papa and those boys in India, and you and Jan and Fay and ... I +was very mad and very happy ... till this morning, when we actually went +off in his car." + +"But where," Anthony asked in a voice studiously even and quiet, "_are_ +he and his car?" + +"I don't know," Meg said hopelessly, "unless they're still at the place +where we had lunch ... and I don't suppose he'd stay there all this +time...." + +Anthony felt a great desire to laugh, but Meg looked so woebegone and +desperately serious that he restrained the impulse and said very kindly: +"I don't yet understand how, having embarked upon such an enterprise, +you happen to be here ... alone. Did you quarrel at lunch, or what?" + +"We didn't _have_ lunch," Meg exclaimed with a sob. "At least, I didn't +... it was the lunch that did it." + +"Did what?" + +"Made me realise what I had done, and go away." + +"Meg dear," said Anthony, striving desperately to keep his voice steady, +"was it a very bad lunch?" + +"I don't know," she answered with the utmost seriousness. "We hadn't +begun; we were just going to, when I noticed his hands, and his nails +were dirty, and they looked horrid, and suddenly it came over me that if +I stayed ... those hands...." + +She let go of the table, put her elbows upon it and hid her face in her +hands. + +Anthony made no sound, and presently, still with hidden face, she went +on again: + +"And in that minute I saw what I was doing, and that I could never be +the same again, and I remembered my poor little dyspeptic Papa, and my +dear, dear brothers so far away in India ... and you and Jan and +Fay--_all_ the special people I pray for every single night and +morning--and I felt that if I didn't get away that minute I should +die...." + +"And how did you get away?" + +"It was quite simple. There was something wrong with the car (that's how +he got his hands so dirty), and he'd sent for a mechanic, and just as we +were sitting down to lunch, the waiter said the motor-man had come ... +and he went out to the garage to speak to him...." + +"Yes?" Anthony remarked, for again Meg paused. + +"So I just walked out of the front door. No one saw me, and the station +was across the road, and I went right in and asked when there was a +train to London, and there _was_ one going in five minutes; so I took a +ticket and came straight here, for I knew somehow, even if you were all +away, Hannah would let me stay ... just to-night. I knew she would ..." +and Meg began to sob feebly. + +And, as if in response to the mention of her name, Hannah appeared, +bearing a tray with tea upon it. Hannah was short and square; she +stumped as she walked, and she carried a tray very high and stately, as +though it were a sacrifice. As she came in Meg rose and hastily moved to +the window, standing there with her back to the room. + +"I thocht," said Hannah, as though challenging somebody to contradict +her, "that Miss Morton would be the better for an egg to her tea. She +looks just like a bit soap after a hard day's washing." + +"I had no lunch," said a muffled, apologetic voice from the window. + +"Come away, then, and take yer tea," Hannah said sharply. "Young leddies +should have more sense than go fasting so many hours." + +As it was evident that Hannah had no intention of leaving the room till +she saw Meg sitting at the table, the girl came back and sat down. + +"See that she gets her tea, sir," she said in a low, admonitory voice to +Anthony. "She's pretty far through." + +The tray was set at the end of the table. Anthony came and sat down +behind it. + +"I'll pour out," he said, "and until you've drunk one cup of tea, eaten +one piece of bread-and-butter and one egg, you're not to speak one word. +_I_ will talk." + +He tried to, disjointedly and for the most part nonsense. Meg drank her +tea, and to her own amazement ate up her egg and several pieces of +bread-and-butter with the utmost relish. + +As the meal proceeded, Anthony noted that she grew less haggard. The +tears still hung on her eyelashes, but the eyes themselves were a +thought less tragic. + +When Hannah came for the tray she gave a grunt of satisfaction at the +sight of the egg-shell and the empty plates. + +"Now," said Anthony, "we must thresh this subject out and settle what's +to be done. I suppose you left a message for the Trents. What did you +tell them?" + +"Lies," said Meg. "He said we must have a good start. His yacht was at +Southampton. And I left a note that I'd been suddenly summoned to Papa, +and would write from there. They'd all gone for a picnic, you know--and +it was arranged I was to have a headache that morning ... I've got it +now with a vengeance ... It seemed rather fun when we were planning it. +Now it all looks so mean and horrid ... Besides, lots of people saw us +in his motor ... and people always know me again because of my hair. +Everyone knew him ... the whole county made a fuss of him, and it seemed +so wonderful ... that he should care like that for me...." + +"Doubtless it did," said Anthony drily. "But we must consider what is to +be done now. If you said you were going to your father, perhaps the best +thing you can do is to go to him, and write to the Trents from there. I +hope you didn't inform _him_ of your intention?" + +"No," she faltered. "I was to write to him just before we sailed ... But +you may be perfectly sure the Trents will find out ... He will probably +go back there to look for me ... I expect he is awfully puzzled." + +"I expect he is, and I hope," Anthony added vindictively, "the fellow is +terrified out of his life as well. He ought to be horsewhipped, and I'd +like to do it. A babe like you!" + +"No," said Meg, firmly; "there you're wrong. I'm not a babe ... I knew +what I was doing; but up to to-day it seemed worth it ... I never seemed +to see till to-day how it would hurt other people. Even if he grew tired +of me--and I had faced that--there would have been some awfully happy +months ... and so long as it was only me, it didn't seem to matter. And +when you've had rather a mouldy life...." + +"It can never be a case of 'only me.' As society is constituted, other +people are always involved." + +"Yet there was Marian Evans ... he told me about her ... she did it, and +everyone came round to think it was very fine of her really. She wrote, +or something, didn't she?" + +"She did," said Anthony, "and in several other respects her case was +not at all analogous to yours. She was a middle-aged woman--you are a +child...." + +"Perhaps, but I'm not an ignorant child...." + +"Oh, Meg!" Anthony protested. + +"I daresay about books and things I am, but I mean I haven't been +wrapped in cotton-wool, and taken care of all my life, like Jan and Fay +... I know about things. Oh dear, oh dear, will you forbid Jan ever to +speak to me again?" + +"Jan!" Anthony repeated. "Jan! Why, she's the person of all others we +want. We'll do nothing till she's here. Let's get her." And he pushed +back his chair and rushed to the bell. + +Meg rushed after him: "You'll let her see me? You'll let her talk to me? +Oh, are you sure?" + +The little hands clutched his arm, her ravaged, wistful face was raised +imploringly to his. + +Anthony stooped and kissed the little face. + +"It's just people like Jan who are put into the world to straighten +things out for the rest of us. We've wasted three-quarters of an hour +already. Now we'll get her." + +"Is she on the telephone?" asked the practical Meg. "Not far off?" + + * * * * * + +Jan was quite used to being summoned to her father in a tremendous +hurry. She was back in St. George's Square before he started for the +dinner. Meg was lying down in one of the dismantled bedrooms, and when +Jan arrived she went straight to her father in his dressing-room. + +She found him on his knees, pursuing a refractory collar-stud under the +wash-stand. + +"It's well you've come," he said as he got up. "I can't fasten my collar +or my tie. I've had a devil of a time. My fingers are all thumbs and I'm +most detestably sticky." + +He told Jan about Meg. She fastened his collar and arranged his tie in +the neatest of bows. Then she kissed him on both cheeks and told him not +to worry. + +"How can one refrain from worrying when the works of the devil and the +selfishness of man are made manifest as they have been to-day? But for +the infinite mercy of God, where would that poor silly child have been?" + +"It's just because the infinite mercy of God is so much stronger than +the works of the devil or the selfishness of man, that you needn't +worry," said Jan. + +Anthony put his hands on Jan's shoulders and held her away from him. + +"Do you know," he said, "I shall always like Hannah better after this. +In spite of her moustache and her grimness, that child was sure Hannah +would take her in, whether any of us were here or not. Now, how did she +know?" + +"Because," said Jan, "things are revealed to babes like Meg that are +hidden from men of the world like you. Hannah is all right--you don't +appreciate Hannah, and you are rather jealous of her moustache." + +Anthony leant forward and kissed his tall young daughter: "You are a +great comfort, Jan," he said. "How do you do it?" + +Jan nodded at him. "It will all straighten out--don't you worry," she +said. + +All the same, there was plenty of worry for everybody. The man, after +his fashion, was very much in love with Meg. He was horribly alarmed by +her sudden and mysterious disappearance. No one had seen her go, no one +had noticed her. + +He got into a panic, and motored back to the Trents', arriving there +just before dinner. Mrs. Trent, tired and cross after a wet picnic, had, +of course, read Meg's note, thought it very casual of the girl and was +justly incensed. + +On finding they knew no more of Meg's movements than he did himself, the +man--one Walter Brooke--lost his head and confessed the truth to Mrs. +Trent, who was much shocked and not a little frightened. + +Later in the evening she received a telegram from Jan announcing Meg's +whereabouts. + +Jan had insisted on this, lest the Trents should suspect anything and +wire to Major Morton. + +Mrs. Trent, quite naturally, refused to have anything further to do with +Meg. She talked of serpents, and was very much upset. She wrote a +dignified letter to Major Morton, explaining her reasons for Meg's +dismissal. She also wrote to their relative among the weariful rich, +through whom she had heard of Meg. + +Meg was more under a cloud than when she left Ribston Hall. + +But for Jan and Anthony she might have gone under altogether; but they +took her down to Wren's End and kept guard over her. Anthony Ross dealt +faithfully with the man, who went yachting at once. + +Meg recovered her poise, searched the advertisements of the scholastic +papers industriously, and secured a post in a school for little boys, as +Anthony forced his cousin Amelia to give her a testimonial. + +Here she worked hard and was a great success, for she could keep order, +and that quality, where small boys are concerned, is much more valuable +than learning. She stayed there for some years, and then her frail +little ill-nourished body gave out, and she was gravely ill. + +When she recovered, she went as English governess to a rich German +family in Bremen. The arrangement was only for one year, and at its +termination she was free to offer to meet Jan and her charges. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +PLANS + + +"Now, chicks, this is London, the friendly town," Jan announced, as the +taxi drove away from Charing Cross station. + +"Flendly little London, dirty little London," her niece rejoined, as she +bounced up and down on Jan's knee. She had slept during the very good +crossing and was full of conversation and ready to be pleased with all +she saw. + +Tony was very quiet. He had suffered far more in the swift journey +across France than during the whole of the voyage, and it was difficult +to decide whether he or Ayah were the more extraordinary colour. +Greenish-white and miserable he sat beside his aunt, silent and +observing. + +"Here's dear old Piccadilly," Jan exclaimed, as the taxi turned out of +St. James's Street. "Doesn't it look jolly in the sunshine?" + +Tony turned even greener than before, and gasped: + +"This! Piccadilly!" + +This not very wide street with shops and great houses towering above +them, the endless streams of traffic in the road and on the crowded +pavements! + +"Did Mrs. Bond live in one of those houses?" he wondered, "and if so, +where did she keep her ducks? And where, oh, where, were the tulips and +the lilies of his dream?" + +He uttered no sound, but his mind kept exclaiming, "This! Piccadilly?" + +"See," said Jan, oblivious of Tony and intent on keeping her lively +niece upon her knee. "There's the Green Park." + +Tony breathed more freely. + +After all, there _were_ trees and grass; good grass, and more of it than +in the Resident's garden. He took heart a little and summoned up courage +to inquire: "But where are the tulips?" + +"It's too early for tulips yet," Jan answered. "By and by there will be +quantities. How did you know about them? Did dear Mummy tell you? But +they're in Hyde Park, not here." + +Tony made no answer. He was, as usual, weighing and considering and +making up his mind. + +Presently he spoke. "It's different," he said, slowly, "but I rather +like to look at it." + +Tony never said whether he thought things were pretty or ugly. All he +knew was that certain people and places, pictures and words, sometimes +filled him with an exquisite sense of pleasure, while others merely +bored or exasperated or were positively painful. + +His highest praise was "I like to look at it." When he didn't like to +look at it, he had found it wiser to express no opinion at all, except +in moments of confidential expansion, and these were rare with Tony. + +Meg had found them a nice little furnished flat on the fifth floor in +one of the blocks behind Kensington High Street, and Hannah must surely +have been waiting behind the door, so instantaneously was it opened, +when Jan and her party left the lift. + +There were tears in Hannah's eyes and her nose was red as she welcomed +"Miss Fay's motherless bairns." She was rather shocked that there was no +sign of mourning about any of them except Jan, who wore--mainly as a +concession to Hannah's prejudices--a thin black coat and skirt she had +got just before she left Bombay. + +Tony stared stonily at Hannah and decided he did not like to look at +her. She was as surprising as the newly-found Piccadilly, but she +gratified no sensuous perception whatsoever. + +Ayah might not be exactly beautiful, but she was harmonious. Her body +was well proportioned, her sari fell in gracious flowing lines, and she +moved with dignity. Without knowing why, Tony felt that there was +something pleasing to the eye in Ayah. Hannah, on the contrary, was the +reverse of graceful; stumpy and heavy-footed, she gave an impression of +abrupt terminations. Everything about her seemed too short except her +caps, which were unusually tall and white and starchy. Her afternoon +aprons, too, were stiffer and whiter and more voluminous than those of +other folk. She did not regard these things as vain adornings of her +person, rather were they the outward and visible sign of her office as +housekeeper to Miss Ross. They were a partial expression of the dignity +of that office, just as a minister's gown is the badge of his. + +By the time everyone was washed and brushed Meg returned with the +luggage and Hannah brought in tea. + +"I thought you'd like to give the bairns their tea yourself the first +day, Miss Jan. Will that Hindu body have hers in the nursery?" + +"That would be best," Jan said hastily. "And Hannah, you mustn't be +surprised if she sits on the floor. Indian servants always do." + +"_Nothing_ she can do will surprise me," Hannah announced loftily. "I've +not forgotten the body that came back with Mrs. Tancred, with a ring +through her nose and a red wafer on her forehead." + +Jan, herself, went with Ayah to the nursery, where she found that in +spite of her disparaging sniffs, Hannah had put out everything poor Ayah +could possibly want. + +The children were hungry and tea was a lengthy meal. It was not until +they had departed with Ayah for more washings that Jan found time to +say: "Why don't you take off your hat, Meg dear? I can't see you +properly in that extinguisher. Is it the latest fashion?" + +"The very latest." + +Meg looked queerly at Jan as she slowly took off her hat. + +"There!" she said. + +Her hair was cropped as short as a boy's, except for the soft, tawny +rings that framed her face. + +"Meg!" Jan cried. "Why on earth have you cut off your hair?" + +"Chill penury's the cause. I've turned it into good hard cash. It +happens to be the fashionable colour just now." + +"Did you really need to? I thought you were getting quite a good salary +with those Hoffmeyers." + +"No English governess gets a _good_ salary in Bremen, and mine was but a +modest remuneration, so I wanted more. Do you remember Lady Penelope +Pottinger?" + +"Hazily. She was pretty, wasn't she ... and very smart?" + +"She was and is ... smarter than ever now--mind, I put you on your +honour never to mention it--_she's_ got my hair." + +"Do you mean she asked you to sell it?" + +"No, my child. I offered it for sale and she was all over me with +eagerness to purchase. Hair's the defective wire in her lighting +apparatus. Her own, at the best, is skimpy and straight, though very +much my colour, and what with permanent waving and instantaneous hair +colouring it was positively dwindling away." + +"I wish you had let it dwindle." + +"No, I rather like her--so I suggested she should give her own poor +locks a rest and have an artistic _postiche_ made with mine; it made +two, one to come and one to go--to the hairdresser. She looks perfectly +charming. I'd no idea my hair was so decent till I saw it on her head." + +"I hope _I_ never shall," Jan said gloomily. "I think it was silly of +you, for it makes you look younger and more irresponsible than ever; and +what about posts?" + +"I've got a post in view where it won't matter if only I can run things +my own way." + +"Will you have to go at once? I thought, perhaps----" + +"I wish to take this post at once," Meg interposed quickly, "but it +depends on you whether I get it." + +"On me?" + +"On no one else. Look here, Jan, will you take me on as nurse to Fay's +children? A real nurse, mind, none of your fine lady arrangements; only +you must pay me forty pounds a year. I can't manage with less if I'm to +give my poor little Papa any chirps ... I suppose that's a frightful lot +for a nurse?" + +"Not for a good nurse ... But, Meg, you got eighty when you taught the +little boys, and I know they'd jump at you again in that school, hair or +no hair." + +"Listen, Jan." Meg put her elbows on the table and leaned her sharp +little chin on her two hands while she held Jan's eyes with hers. "For +nine long years, except that time with the Trents, I've been teaching, +teaching, teaching, and I'm sick of teaching. I'd rather sweep a +crossing." + +"Yet you teach so well; you know the little boys adored you." + +"I love children and they usually like me. If you take me to look after +Tony and little Fay, I'll do it thoroughly, I can promise you. I won't +teach them, mind, not a thing--I'll make them happy and well-mannered; +and, Jan, listen, do you suppose there's anybody, even the most +superior of elderly nurses, who would take the trouble for Fay's +children that I should? If you let me come you won't regret it, I +promise you." + +Meg's eyes, those curious eyes with the large pupil and blue iris +flecked with brown, were very bright, her voice was earnest, and when it +ceased it left a sense of tension in the very air. + +Jan put out her hand across the table, and Meg, releasing her sharp +little chin, clasped it with hers. + +"So that's settled," Meg announced triumphantly. + +"No." Jan's voice was husky but firm. "It's not settled. I don't think +you're strong enough; but, even so, if I could pay you the salary you +ought to have, I'd jump at you ... but, my dear, I can't at present. I +haven't the least idea what it will all cost, but the fares and things +have made such a hole in this year's money I'll need to be awfully +careful." + +"That's exactly why I want to come; you've no idea of being careful and +doing things in a small way. I've done it all my life. You'll be far +more economical with me than without me." + +"Don't tempt me," Jan besought her. "I see all that, but why should I be +comfortable at your expense? I want you more than I can say. Fay wanted +it too--she said so." + +"Did Fay actually say so? Did she?" + +"Yes, she did--not that you should be their nurse, we neither of us ever +thought of that; but she did want you to be there to help me with the +children. We used to talk about it." + +"Then I'm coming. I must. Don't you see how it is, Jan? Don't you +realise that nearly all the happiness in my life--_all_ the happiness +since the boys left--has come to me through Mr. Ross and Fay and you? +And now when there's a chance for me to do perhaps a little something in +return ... If you don't let me, it's you who are mean and grudging. I +shall be perfectly strong, if I haven't got to teach--mind, I won't do +that, not so much as A.B.C." + +"I know it's wrong," Jan sighed, "just because it would be so heavenly +to have you." + +Meg loosed the hand she held and stood up. She lifted her thin arms +above her head, as though invoking some invisible power, stretched +herself, and ran round the table to kiss Jan. + +"And do you never think, you dear, slow-witted thing, that it will be +rather lovely for _me_ to be with you? To be with somebody who is kind +without being patronising, who treats one as a human being and not a +machine, who sees the funny side of things and isn't condescending or +improving if she doesn't happen to be cross?" + +"I'm often cross," Jan said. + +"Well, and what if you are? Can't I be cross back? I'm not afraid of +your crossness. You never hit below the belt. Now, promise me you'll +give me a trial. Promise!" + +Meg's arms were round her neck, Meg's absurd cropped head was rubbing +against hers. Jan was very lonely and hungry for affection just then, +timid and anxious about the future. Even in that moment of time it +flashed upon her what a tower of strength this small, determined +creature would be, and how infinitely hard it was to turn Meg from any +course she had determined on. + +"For a little while, then," so Jan salved her conscience. "Just till we +all shake down ... and your hair begins to grow." + +Meg stood up very straight and shook her finger at Jan. "Remember, I'm +to be a real, proper nurse with authority, and a clinical thermometer +... and a uniform." + +"If you like, and it's a pretty uniform." + +Meg danced gleefully round the table. + +"It will be lovely, it is lovely. I've got it all ready; green linen +frocks, big _well_-fitting aprons, and such beautiful caps." + +"Not caps, Meg!" Jan expostulated. "Please not caps." + +"Certainly caps. How otherwise am I to cover up my head? I can't wear +hats all the time. And how could I ever inspire those children with +respect with a head like this? When I get into my uniform you'll see +what a very superior nurse I look." + +"You'll look much more like musical comedy than sober service." + +"You mistake the situation altogether," Meg said loftily. "I take my +position very seriously." + +"But you can't go about Wren's End in caps. Everybody knows you down +there." + +"They'll find out they don't know me as well as they thought, that's +all." + +"Meg, tell me, what did Hannah say when she saw your poor shorn head?" + +"Hannah, as usual, referred to my Maker, and said that had He intended +me to have short hair He would either have caused it not to grow or +afflicted me with some disease which necessitated shearing; and she +added that such havers are just flying in the face of Providence." + +"So they are." + +"All the more reason to cover them up, and I wish to impress the +children." + +"Those children will be sadly browbeaten, I can see, and as for their +poor aunt, she won't be able to call her soul her own." + +"That," Meg said, triumphantly, "is precisely why I'm so eager to come. +When you've been an underling all your life you can't imagine what a joy +it is to be top dog occasionally." + +"In that respect," Jan said firmly, "it must be turn and turn about. I +won't let you come unless you promise--swear, here and now--that when I +consider you are looking fagged--'a wispy wraith,' as Daddie used to +say--if I command you to take a day in bed, in bed you will stay till I +give you leave to get up. Unless you promise me this, the contract is +off." + +"I'll promise anything you like. The idea of being _pressed_ to remain +in bed strikes me as merely comic. You have evidently no notion how +persons in a subordinate position ought to be treated. Bed, indeed!" + +"I think you might have waited till I got back before you parted with +your hair." Jan's tone was decidedly huffy. + +"Now don't nag. That subject is closed. What about _your_ hair. Do you +know it is almost white?" + +"And what more suitable for a maiden aunt? As that is to be my _rle_ +for the future I may as well look the part." + +"But you don't--that's what I complain of. The whiter your hair grows +the younger your face gets. You're a contradiction, a paradox, you +provoke conjecture, you're indecently noticeable. Mr. Ross would have +loved to paint you." + +Jan shook her head. "No, Daddie never wanted to paint anything about me +except my arms." + +"He'd want to paint you now," Meg insisted obstinately. "_I_ know the +sort of person he liked to paint." + +"He never would paint people unless he _did_ like them," Jan said, +smiling as at some recollection. "Do you remember how he utterly refused +to paint that rich Mr. Withells down at Amber Guiting?" + +"I remember," and Meg laughed. "He said Mr. Withells was puffy and +stippled." + + * * * * * + +Tony had been cold ever since he reached the Gulf of Lyons, and he +wondered what could be the matter with him, for he never remembered to +have felt like this before. He wondered miserably what could be the +reason why he felt so torpid and shivery, disinclined to move, and yet +so uncomfortable when he sat still. + +After his bath, on that first night in London, tucked into a little bed +with a nice warm eiderdown over him, he still felt that horrid little +trickle of ice-cold water down his spine and could not sleep. + +His cot was in Auntie Jan's room with a tall screen round it. The rooms +in the flat were small, tiny they seemed to Tony, after the lofty +spaciousness of the bungalow in Bombay, but that didn't seem to make it +any warmer, because Auntie Jan's window was wide open as it would +go--top and bottom--and chilly gusts seemed to blow round his head in +spite of the screen. Ayah and little Fay were in the nursery across the +passage, where there was a fire. There was no fire in this wind-swept +chamber of Auntie Jan's. + +Tony dozed and woke and woke and dozed, getting colder and more forlorn +and miserable with each change of position. The sheets seemed made of +ice, so slippery were they, so unkind and unyielding and unembracing. + +Presently he saw a dim light. Auntie Jan had come to bed, carrying a +candle. He heard her say good night to the little mem who had met them +at the station, and the door was shut. + +In spite of her passion for fresh air, Jan shivered herself as she +undressed. She made a somewhat hasty toilet, said her prayers, peeped +round the screen to see that Tony was all right, and hopped into bed, +where a hot-water bottle put in by the thoughtful Hannah was most +comforting. + +Presently she heard a faint, attenuated sniff. Again it came, this time +accompanied by the ghost of something like a groan. + +Jan sat up in bed and listened. Immediately all was perfectly still. + +She lay down again, and again came that sad little sniff, and +undoubtedly it was from behind the screen that it came. + +Had Tony got cold? + +Jan leapt out of bed, switched on the light and tore away the screen +from around his bed. + +Yes; his doleful little face was tear-stained. + +"Tony, Tony darling, what is the matter?" + +"I don't know," he sobbed. "I feel so funny." + +Jan put her hand on his forehead--far from being hot, the little face +was stone-cold. In a moment she had him out of bed and in her warm arms. +As she took him she felt the chill of the stiff, unyielding small body. + +"My precious boy, you're cold as charity! Why didn't you call me long +ago? Why didn't you tell Auntie Jan?" + +"I didn't ... know ... what it was," he sobbed. + +In no time Tony was put into the big bed, the bed so warm from Auntie +Jan's body, with a lovely podgy magic something at his feet that +radiated heat. Auntie Jan slammed down the window at the bottom, and +then more fairness! She struck a match, there was a curious sort of +"plop," and a little fire started in the grate, an amazing little fire +that grew redder and redder every minute. Auntie Jan put on a blue +dressing-gown over the long white garment that she wore, and bustled +about. Tony decided that he "liked to look at her" in this blue robe, +with her hair in a great rope hanging down. She was very quick; she +fetched a little saucepan and he heard talking in the passage outside, +but no one else came in, only Auntie Jan. + +Presently she gave him milk, warm and sweet, in a blue cup. He drank it +and began to feel much happier, drowsy too, and contented. Presently +there was no light save the red glow of the fairy fire, and Auntie Jan +got into bed beside him. + +She put her arm about him and drew him so that his head rested against +her warm shoulder. He did not repulse her, he did not speak, but lay +stiff and straight with his feet glued against that genial podgy +something that was so infinitely comforting. + +"You are kind," Tony said suddenly. "I believe you." + +The stiff little body relaxed and lay against hers in confiding +abandonment, and soon he was sound asleep. + +What a curious thing to say! Jan lay awake puzzling. Tragedy lay behind +it. Only five years old, and yet, to Tony, belief was a more important +thing than love. She thought of Fay, hectic and haggard, and again she +seemed to hear her say in her tired voice, trying to explain Tony: "He's +not a cuddly child; he's queer and reserved and silent, but if he once +trusts you it's for always; he'll love you then and never change." + +Jan could just see, in the red glow from the fire, the little head that +lay so confidingly against her shoulder, the wide forehead, the +peacefully closed eyes. And suddenly she realised that the elusive +resemblance to somebody that had always evaded her was a likeness to +that face she saw in the glass every time she did her hair. She kissed +him very softly, praying the while that she might never fail him; that +he might always have reason to trust her. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE STATE OF PETER + + +Meanwhile Peter was making discoveries about himself. He went back to +his flat on the evening of the day Jan and the children sailed. Swept +and garnished and exceedingly tidy, it appeared to have grown larger +during his absence and seemed rather empty. There was a sense of +unfilled spaces that caused him to feel lonely. + +That very evening he decided he must get a friend to chum with him. The +bungalow was much too big for one person. + +This had never struck him before. + +In spite of their excessive neatness there remained traces of Jan and +the children in the rooms. The flowers on the dinner-table proclaimed +that they had been arranged by another hand than Lalkhan's. He was +certain of that without Lalkhan's assurance that the Miss-Sahib had done +them herself before she sailed that very morning. + +When he went to his desk after dinner--never before or after did Peter +possess such an orderly bureau--he found a letter lying on the +blotting-pad, and on each side of the heavy brass inkstand were placed a +leaden member of a camel-corps and an India-rubber ball with a face +painted upon it, which, when squeezed, expressed every variety of +emotion. These, Lalkhan explained, were parting gifts from the young +sahib and little Fay respectively, and had been so arranged by them just +before they sailed. + +The day before Jan had told the children that all this time they had +been living in Peter's house and that she was sure Mummy would want them +to be very grateful (she was careful to talk a great deal about Mummy to +the children lest they should forget her); that he had been very kind to +them all, and she asked if there was anything of their very own they +would like to leave for Peter as a remembrance. + +Tony instantly fetched the camel-corps soldier that kept guard on a +chair by his cot every night; that Ayah had not been permitted to pack +because it must accompany him on the voyage. It was, Jan knew, his most +precious possession, and she assured him that Peter would be +particularly gratified by such a gift. + +Not to be outdone by her brother, little Fay demanded her beloved ball, +which was already packed for the voyage in Jan's suit-case. + +Peter sat at his desk staring at the absurd little toys with very kind +eyes. He understood. Then he opened Jan's letter and read it through +quite a number of times. + +"Dear Mr. Ledgard," it ran. + +"Whatever Mr. Kipling may say of the Celt, the lowland Scot finds it +very difficult to express strong feeling in words. If I had tried to +tell you, face to face, how sensible I am of your kindness and +consideration for us during the last sad weeks--I should have cried. You +would have been desperately uncomfortable and I--miserably ashamed of +myself. So I can only try to write something of my gratitude. + +"We have been your guests so long and your hospitality has been so +untiring in circumstances sad and strange enough to try the patience of +the kindest host, that I simply cannot express my sense of obligation; +an obligation in no wise burdensome because you have always contrived to +make me feel that you took pleasure in doing all you have done. + +"I wish there had been something belonging to my sister that I could +have begged you to accept as a remembrance of her; but everything she +had of the smallest value has disappeared--even her books. When I get +home I hope to give you one of my father's many portraits of her, but I +will not send it till I know whether you are coming home this summer. +Please remember, should you do so, as I sincerely hope you will, that +nowhere can there be a warmer welcome for you than at Wren's End. It +would be the greatest possible pleasure for the children and me to see +you there, and it is a good place to slack in and get strong. And there +I hope to challenge you to the round of golf we never managed during my +time in India. + +"Please try to realise, dear Mr. Ledgard, that my sense of your kindness +is deep and abiding, and, believe me, yours, in most true gratitude, + + "JANET ROSS." + +For a long time Peter sat very still, staring at the cheerful, +highly-coloured face painted on Fay's ball. Cigarette after cigarette +did he smoke as he reviewed the experience of the last six weeks. + +For the first time since he became a man he had been constantly in the +society of a woman younger than himself who appeared too busy and too +absorbed in other things to remember that she was a woman and he a man. + +Peter was ordinarily susceptible, and he was rather a favourite with +women because of his good manners; and his real good-nature made him +ready to help either in any social project that happened to be towards +or in times of domestic stress. Yet never until lately had he seen so +much of any woman not frankly middle-aged without being conscious that +he _was_ a man and she a woman, and this added, at all events, a certain +piquancy to the situation. + +Yet he had never felt this with Jan. + +Quite a number of times in the course of his thirty years he had fallen +in love in an agreeably surface sort of way without ever being deeply +stirred. Love-making was the pleasantest game in the world, but he had +not yet felt the smallest desire to marry. He was a shrewd young man, +and knew that marriage, even in the twentieth century, at all events +starts with the idea of permanence; and, like many others who show no +inclination to judge the matrimonial complications of their +acquaintance, he would greatly have disliked any sort of scandal that +involved himself or his belongings. + +He was quite as sensitive to criticism as other men in his service, and +he knew that he challenged it in lending his flat to Mrs. Tancred. But +here he felt that the necessities of the case far outweighed the +possibilities of misconception, and after Jan came he thought no more +about it. + +Yet in a young man with his somewhat cynical knowledge of the world, it +was surprising that the thought of his name being coupled with Jan's +never crossed his mind. He forgot that none of his friends knew Jan at +all, but that almost every evening they did see her with him in the +car--sometimes, it is true, accompanied by the children, but quite as +often alone--and that during her visit his spare time was so much +occupied in looking after the Tancred household that his friends saw +comparatively little of him, and Peter was, as a rule, a very sociable +person. + +Therefore it came upon him as a real shock when people began to ask him +point-blank whether he was engaged to Jan, and if so, what they were +going to do about Tancred's children. Rightly or wrongly, he discerned +in the question some veiled reflection upon Jan, some implied slur upon +her conduct. He was consequently very short and huffy with these +inquisitive ones, and when he was no longer present they would shake +their heads and declare that "poor old Peter had got it in the neck." + +If so, poor old Peter was, as yet, quite unconscious of anything of the +kind. + +Nevertheless he found himself constantly thinking about her. Everything, +even the familiar streets and roads, served to remind him of her, and +when he went to bed he nearly always dreamed about her. Absurd, +inconsequent, unsatisfactory dreams they were; for in them she was +always too busy to pay any attention to him at all; she was wholly +absorbed by what it is to be feared Peter sometimes called "those +confounded children." Though even in his dream world he was careful to +keep his opinion to himself. + +Why on earth should he always dream of Jan during the first part of the +night? + +Lalkhan could have thrown some light upon the subject. But naturally +Peter did not confide his obsession to Lalkhan. + +Just before she left Jan asked Lalkhan where the sahib's linen was kept, +and on being shown the cupboard which contained the rather untidy little +piles of sheets, pillow-cases, and towels that formed Peter's modest +store of house linen, she rearranged it and brought sundry flat, square +muslin bags filled with dried lavender. Lace-edged bags with +lavender-coloured ribbon run through insertion and tied in bows at the +two corners. These bags she placed among the sheets, much to the wonder +of Lalkhan, who, however, decided that it was kindly meant and therefore +did not interfere. + +The odour was not one that commended itself to him. It was far too faint +and elusive. He could understand a liking for attar of roses, of +jessamine, of musk, or of any of the strong scents beloved by the native +of India. Yet had she proposed to sprinkle the sheets with any of these +essences he would have felt obliged to interfere, as the sahib swore +violently and became exceedingly hot and angry did any member of his +household venture into his presence thus perfumed. Even as it was he +fully expected that his master would irritably demand the cause of the +infernal smell that pervaded his bed; so keen are the noses of the +sahibs. Whereupon Lalkhan, strong in rectitude, would relate exactly +what had happened, produce one of the Jan-incriminating muslin bags, +escape further censure, and doubtless be commanded to burn it and its +fellows in the kitchen stove. But nothing of the kind occurred, and, as +it is always easier to leave a thing where it has been placed than to +remove it, the lavender remained among the sheets in humble obscurity. + +The old garden at Wren's End abounded in great lavender bushes, and +every year since it became her property Jan made lavender sachets which +she kept in every possible place. Her own clothes always held a faint +savour of lavender, and she had packed these bags as much as a matter of +course as she packed her stockings. It seemed a shame, though, to take +them home again when she could get plenty more next summer, so she left +them in the bungalow linen cupboard. They reproduced her atmosphere; +therefore did Peter dream of Jan. + +A fortnight passed, and on their way to catch the homeward mail came +Thomas Crosbie and his wife from Dariawarpur to stay the night. Next +morning at breakfast Mrs. Crosbie, young, pretty and enthusiastic, +expatiated on the comfort of her room, finally exclaiming: "And how, +Mr. Ledgard, do you manage to have your sheets so deliciously scented +with lavender--d'you get it sent out from home every year?" + +"Lavender?" Peter repeated. "I've got no lavender. My people never sent +me any, and I've certainly never come across any in India." + +"But I'm convinced everything smelt of lavender. It made me think of +home so. If I hadn't been just going I'd have been too homesick for +words. I'm certain of it. Think! You must have got some from somewhere +and forgotten it." + +Peter shook his head. "I've never noticed it myself--you really must be +mistaken. What would I be doing with lavender?" + +"It was there all the same," Mrs. Crosbie continued. "I'm certain of it. +You must have got some from somewhere. Do find out--I'm sure I'm not +wrong. Ask your boy." + +Peter said something to Lalkhan, who explained volubly. Tom Crosbie +grinned; he understood even fluent Hindustani. His wife did not. Peter +looked a little uncomfortable. Lalkhan salaamed and left the room. + +"Well?" Mrs. Crosbie asked. + +"It seems," Peter said slowly, "there _is_ something among the sheets. +I've sent Lalkhan to get it." + +Lalkhan returned, bearing a salver, and laid on the salver was one of +Jan's lavender bags. He presented it solemnly to his master, who with +almost equal solemnity handed it to Mrs. Crosbie. + +"There!" she said. "Of course I knew I couldn't be mistaken. Now where +did you get it?" + +"It was, I suppose, put among the things when poor Mrs. Tancred had the +flat. I never noticed, of course--it's such an unobtrusive sort of +smell...." + +"Hadn't she a sister?" Mrs. Crosbie asked, curiously, holding the little +sachet against her soft cheek and looking very hard at Peter. + +"She had. It was she who took the children home, you know." + +"Older or younger than Mrs. Tancred?" + +"Older." + +"How much older?" + +"I really don't know," said the mendacious Peter. + +"Was she awfully pretty, too?" + +"Again, I really don't know. I never thought about her looks ... she had +grey hair...." + +"Oh!" Mrs. Crosbie exclaimed--a deeply disappointed "Oh." "Probably much +older, then. That explains the lavender bags." + +Silent Thomas Crosbie looked from his wife to Peter with considerable +amusement. He realised, if she didn't, that Peter was most successfully +putting her off the scent of more than lavender; but men are generally +loyal to each other in these matters, and he suddenly took his part in +the conversation and changed the subject. + +Among Peter's orders to his butler that morning was one to the effect +that nothing the Miss-Sahib had arranged in the bungalow was to be +disturbed, and the lavender bag was returned to rejoin its fellows in +the cupboard. + +It was four years since Peter had had any leave, and it appeared that +the lavender had the same effect upon him as upon Mrs. Crosbie. He felt +homesick--and applied for leave in May. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +"THE BEST-LAID SCHEMES" + + +Peter had been as good as his word, and had found a family returning to +India who were glad to take Ayah back to Bombay. And she, though sorry +to leave Jan and the children, acquiesced in all arrangements made for +her with the philosophic patience of the East. March was a cold month, +and she was often rather miserable, in spite of her pride in her shoes +and stockings and the warm clothes Jan had provided for her. + +Before she left Jan interviewed her new mistress and found her kind and +sensible, and an old campaigner who had made the voyage innumerable +times. + +It certainly occurred to Jan that Peter had been extraordinarily quick +in making this arrangement, but she concluded that he had written on the +subject before they left India. She had no idea that he had sent a long +and costly cable on the subject. His friend thought him very solicitous +for her comfort, but set it down entirely to her own merits and Peter's +discriminating good sense. + +When the day came Jan took Ayah to her new quarters in a taxi. Of course +Ayah wept, and Jan felt like weeping herself, as she would like to have +kept her on for the summer months. But she knew it wouldn't do; that +apart from the question of expense, Hannah could never overcome her +prejudices against "that heathen buddy," and that to have explained that +poor Ayah was a Roman Catholic would only have made matters worse. +Hannah was too valuable in every way to upset her with impunity, and the +chance of sending Ayah back to India in such kind custody was too good +to lose. + +Meg had deferred the adoption of the musical-comedy costume until such +time as she took over Ayah's duties. She in no way interfered, but was +helpful in so many unobtrusive ways that Jan, while she still felt +guilty in allowing her to stay at all, acknowledged she could never have +got through this time without her. + +Fortunately the day of Ayah's departure was fine, so that while Jan took +her to her destination Meg took the children to spend the afternoon at +the Zoo. To escort little Fay about London was always rather an ordeal +to anyone of a retiring disposition. She was so fearless, so interested +in her fellow-creatures, and so ready at all times and in all places to +enter into conversation with absolute strangers, preferably men, that +embarrassing situations were almost inevitable; and her speech, high and +clear and carrying--in spite of the missing "r"--rendered it rarely +possible to hope people did not understand what she said. + +They went by the Metropolitan to Baker Street and sat on one of the +small seats at right angles to the windows, and a gentleman wearing a +very shiny top-hat sat down opposite to them. + +He looked at little Fay; little Fay looked at him and, smiling her +adorable, confident smile, leant forward, remarking: "Sahib, you wear a +very high hat." + +Instantly the eyes of all the neighbouring passengers were fixed upon +the hat and its owner. His, however, were only for the very small lady +that faced him; the small lady in a close white bonnet and bewitching +curls that bobbed and fluttered in the swaying of the train. + +He took off the immaculate topper and held it out towards her. "There," +he said, "would you like to look at it?" + +Fay carefully rubbed it the wrong way with a tentative woolly-gloved +finger. "Plitty, high hat," she cooed. "Can plitty little Fay have it to +keep?" + +But the gentleman's admiration did not carry him as far as this. +Somewhat hastily he withdrew his hat, smoothed it (it had just been +ironed) and placed it on his head again. Then he became aware of the +smiling faces and concentrated gaze of his neighbours; also, that the +attractive round face that had given him so much pleasure had exchanged +its captivating smile for a pathetic melancholy that even promised +tears. He turned extremely red and escaped at the next station. +Whereupon ungrateful little Fay, who had never had the slightest +intention of crying, remarked loftily: "Tahsome man dawn." + +When at last they reached the Zoo Meg took it upon herself to +remonstrate with her younger charge. + +"You mustn't ask strangers for things, dear; you really mustn't--not in +the street or in the train." + +"What for?" asked Fay. She nearly always said, "What for" when she meant +"Why"; and it was as hard-worked a phrase as "What nelse?" + +"Because people don't do it, you know." + +"They do--I've heard 'em." + +"Well, beggars perhaps, but not nice little girls." + +"Do nasty little girls?" + +"_Only_ nasty little girls would do it, I think." + +Fay pondered this for a minute, then in a regretfully reflective voice +she said sadly: "Vat was a nasty, gleedy sahib in a tlain." + +"Not at all," Meg argued, struggling with her mirth. "How would you have +liked it if he'd asked you to give him your bonnet 'to keep'?" + +Little Fay hastily put up her hands to her head to be sure her bonnet +was in its place, then she inquired with great interest: "What's 'is +place, deah Med?" + +"Deah Med" soon found herself followed round by a small crowd of other +sight-seers who waited for and greeted little Fay's unceasing comments +with joyful appreciation. Such popular publicity was not at all to Meg's +taste, and although the afternoon was extremely cold her cheeks never +ceased to burn till she got the children safely back to the flat again. +Tony was gloomy and taciturn. Nobody took the slightest notice of him. +Weather that seemed to brace his sister to the most energetic gaiety +only made him feel torpid and miserable. He was not naughty, merely +apathetic, uninterested, and consequently uninteresting. Meg thought he +might be homesick and sad about Ayah, and was very kind and gentle, but +her advances met with no response. + +By this time Tony was sure of his aunt, but he had by no means made up +his mind about Meg. + +When they got back to Kensington Meg joyously handed over the children +to Jan while she retired to her room to array herself in her uniform. +She was to "take over" from that moment, and approached her new sphere +with high seriousness and an intense desire to be, as she put it, "a +wild success." + +For weeks she had been reading the publications of the P. N. E. U. and +the "Child-Study Society," to say nothing of Manuals upon "Infant +Hygiene," "The Montessori Method" and "The Formation of Character." +Sympathy and Insight, Duty and Discipline, Self-Control and Obedience, +Regularity and Concentration of Effort--all with the largest +capitals--were to be her watchwords. And she buttoned on her +well-fitting white linen apron (newest and most approved hospital +pattern, which she had been obliged to make herself, for she could buy +nothing small enough) in a spirit of dedication as sincere as that +imbuing any candidate for Holy Orders. Then, almost breathlessly, she +put her cap upon her flaming head and surveyed the general effect in the +long glass. + +Yes, it was all very satisfactory. Well-hung, short, green linen +frock--was it a trifle short? Yet the little feet in the low-heeled +shoes were neat as the ankles above them were slim, and one needed a +short skirt for "working about." + +Perhaps there _was_ a touch of musical comedy about her appearance, but +that was merely because she was so small and the cap, a muslin cap of a +Quakerish shape, distinctly becoming. Well, there was no reason why she +should want to look hideous. She would not be less capable because she +was pleasing to the eye. + +She seized her flannel apron from the bed where she had placed it ready +before she went out, and with one last lingering look at herself went +swiftly to her new duties. + +Tea passed peacefully enough, though Fay asked embarrassing questions, +such as "Why you wear suts a funny hat?" + +"Because I'm an ayah," Meg answered quickly. + +"Ayahs don't wear zose kind of hats." + +"English ayahs do, and I'm going to be your ayah, you know." + +Fay considered Meg for a minute. "No," she said, shaking her head. +"_No._" + +"Have another sponge-finger," Jan suggested diplomatically, handing the +dish to her niece, and the danger was averted. + +They played games with the children after tea and all went well till +bed-time. Meg had begged Jan to leave them entirely to her, and with +considerable misgiving she had seen Meg marshal the children to the +bathroom and shut the door. Tony was asked as a favour to go too this +first evening without Ayah, lest little Fay should feel lonely. It was +queer, Jan reflected when left alone in the drawing-room, how she seemed +to turn to the taciturn Tony for help where her obstreperous niece was +concerned. Over and over again Tony had intervened and successfully +prevented a storm. + +Meg turned on the bath and began to undress little Fay. She bore this +with comparative meekness, but when all her garments had been removed +she slipped from Meg's knees and, standing squarely on the floor, +announced: + +"I want my own Ayah. Engliss Ayah not wass me. Own Ayah muss come bat." + +"She can't, my darling; she's gone to other little girls, you know--we +told you many days ago." + +"She muss come bat--'_jaldi_,'" shouted Fay--"jaldi" being Hindustani +for "quickly." + +Meg sighed. "I'm afraid she can't do that. Come, my precious, and let me +bathe you; you'll get cold standing there." + +With a quick movement Meg seized the plump, round body. She was muscular +though so small, and in spite of little Fay's opposition she lifted her +into the bath. She felt Tony pull at her skirts and say something, but +was too busy to pay attention. + +Little Fay was in the bath sure enough, but to wash her was quite +another matter. You may lead a sturdy infant of three to the water in a +fixed bath, but no power on earth can wash that infant if it doesn't +choose. Fay screamed and struggled and wriggled and kicked, finally +slipping right under the water, which frightened her dreadfully; she +lost her breath for one second, only to give forth ear-splitting yells +the next. She was slippery as a trout and strong as a leaping salmon. + +Jan could bear it no longer and came in. Meg had succeeded in lifting +the terrified baby out of the bath, and she stood on the square of cork +defying the "Engliss Ayah," wet from her topmost curl to her pink toes, +but wholly unwashed. + +Tony ran to Jan and under all the din contrived to say: "It's the big +bath; she's frightened. Ayah never put her in the big bath." + +Meg had forgotten this. The little tin bath they had brought from India +for the voyage stood in a corner. + +It was filled, while Fay, wrapped in a Turkish towel, sobbed more +quietly, ejaculating between the gurgles: "Nasty hat, nasty Engliss +Ayah. I want my own deah Ayah!" + +When the bath was ready poor Meg again approached little Fay, but Fay +would have none of her. + +"No," she wailed, "Engliss Ayah in nasty hat _not_ wass me. Tony wass +me, _deah_ Tony." + +She held out her arms to her brother, who promptly received her in his. + +"You'd better let me," he said to the anxious young women. "We'll never +get her finished else." + +So it ended in Tony's being arrayed in the flannel apron which, tied +under his arm-pits, was not so greatly too long. With his sleeves +turned up he washed his small sister with thoroughness and despatch, +pointing out somewhat proudly that he "went into all the corners." + +[Illustration: He washed his small sister with thoroughness and +despatch, pointing out ... that he "went into all the corners."] + +The washing-glove was very large on Tony's little hand, and he used a +tremendous lot of soap--but Fay became all smiles and amiability during +the process. Meg and Jan had tears in their eyes as they watched the +quaint spectacle. There was something poignantly pathetic in the +clinging together of these two small wayfarers in a strange country, so +far from all they had known and shared in their short experience. + +Meg's "nasty hat" was rakishly askew upon her red curls, for Fay had +frequently grabbed at it in her rage, and the beautiful green linen gown +was sopping wet. + +"Engliss Ayah clying!" Fay remarked surprisedly. "What for?" + +"Because you wouldn't let me bathe you," said Meg dismally. Her voice +broke. She really was most upset. As it happened, she did the only thing +that would have appealed to little Fay. + +"Don't cly, deah Med," she said sweetly. "You sall dly me." + +And Meg, student of so many manuals, humbly and gratefully accepted the +task. + +It had taken exactly an hour and a quarter to get Fay ready for bed. +Indian Ayah used to do it in fifteen minutes. + +Consistently and cheerfully gracious, Fay permitted Meg to carry her to +her cot and tuck her in. + +Meg lit the night-light and switched off the light, when a melancholy +voice began to chant: + +"_My_ Ayah always dave me a choccly." + +Now there was no infant in London less deserving of a choccly at that +moment than troublesome little Fay. "Nursery Hygiene" proclaimed the +undeniable fact that sweetmeats last thing at night are most injurious. +Duty and Discipline and Self-Control should all have pointed out the +evil of any indulgence of the sort. Yet Meg, with all her theories quite +fresh and new, and with this excellent opportunity of putting them into +practice, extracted a choccly from a box on the chest of drawers; and +when the voice, "like broken music," announced for the third time, "_My_ +Ayah always dave me a choccly," "So will this Ayah," said Meg, and +popped it into the mouth whence the voice issued. + +There was a satisfied smacking and munching for a space, when the voice +took up the tale: + +"Once Tony had thlee----" + +But what it was Tony once had "thlee" of Meg was not to know that night, +for naughty little Fay fell fast asleep. + + * * * * * + +For a week Tony bathed his sister every night. Neither Jan nor Meg felt +equal to facing and going through again the terrors of that first night +without Ayah. Little Fay was quite good--she permitted Meg to undress +her and even to put her in the little bath, but once there she always +said firmly, "Tony wass me," and Tony did. + +Then he burned his hand. + +He was never openly and obstreperously disobedient like little Fay. On +the whole he preferred a quiet life free from contention. But very early +in their acquaintance Jan had discovered that what Tony determined upon +that he did, and in this he resembled her so strongly that she felt a +secret sympathy with him, even when such tenacity of purpose was most +inconvenient. + +He liked to find things out for himself, and no amount of warning or +prohibition could prevent his investigations. Thus it came about that, +carefully guarded as the children were from any contact with the fires, +Tony simply didn't believe what was told him of their dangers. + +Fires were new to him. They were so pretty, with their dancing flames, +it seemed a pity to shut them in behind those latticed guards Auntie Jan +was so fond of. Never did Tony see the fires without those tiresome +guards and he wanted to very much. + +One afternoon just before tea, while Meg was changing little Fay's +frock, he slipped across to the drawing-room where Auntie Jan was busy +writing a letter. Joy! the guard was off the fire; he could sit on the +rug and watch it undisturbed. He made no noise, but knelt down softly in +front of it and stretched out his hands to the pleasant warmth. It was +the sort of fire Tony liked to watch, red at the heart, with little +curling flames that were mirrored in the tiled hearth. + +Jan looked up from her writing and saw him there, saw also that there +was no guard, but, as little Fay had not yet come, thought Tony far too +sensible to interfere with the fire in any way. She went on with her +writing; then when she looked again something in the intentness of his +attitude caused her to say: "Be sure you don't get too near the fire, +Tony; it hurts badly to be burned." + +"Yes, Auntie Jan," Tony said meekly. + +She wrote a few lines more, looked up, and held her breath. It would +have been an easy matter even then to dash across and put on the guard; +but in a flash Jan realised that to let Tony burn himself a little at +that moment might save a very bad accident later on. There was nothing +in his clothes to catch alight. His woollen jersey fitted closely. + +Exactly as though he were going to pick a flower, with curved hand +outstretched Tony tried to capture and hold one of the dancing flames. +He drew his hand back very quickly, and Jan expected a loud outcry, but +none came. He sat back on the hearth-rug and rocked his body to and fro, +holding the burnt right hand with his left, but he did not utter a +sound. + +"It does hurt, doesn't it?" said Jan. + +He started at the quiet voice and turned a little puckered face towards +her. "Yes," he said, with a big sigh; "but I know now." + +"Come with me and I'll put something on it to make it hurt less," said +Jan, and crossed to the door. + +"Hadn't we better," he said, rather breathlessly, "put that thing on for +fear of Fay?" + +Jan carefully replaced the "thing" and took him to her room, where she +bandaged the poor little hand with carron-oil and cotton-wool. The outer +edge was scorched from little finger to wrist. She made no remark while +she did it, and Tony leaned confidingly against her the while. + +"Is that better?" she asked, when she had fastened the final safety-pin +in the bandage. There was one big tear on Tony's cheek. + +"It's nice and cool, that stuff. _Why_ does it hurt so, Auntie Jan? It +looks so kind and pretty." + +"It is kind and pretty, only we mustn't go too near. Will you be sure +and tell Fay how it can hurt?" + +"I'll _tell_ her," he promised, but he didn't seem to have much hope of +the news acting as a deterrent. + +When at bed-time Jan announced that Tony could not possibly bathe Fay +because he mustn't get his hand wet or disturb the dressing, she and Meg +tremblingly awaited the awful fuss that seemed bound to follow. + +But Fay was always unexpected. "Then Med muss wass me," she remarked +calmly. The good custom was established and Meg began to perk up again. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE WHEELS OF CHANCE + + +Meg was out walking with the children in Kensington Gardens, and Hannah +was paying the tradesmen's books. It was the only way to make Hannah +take the air, to send her, as she put it, "to do the messages." She +liked paying the books herself, for she always suspected Jan of not +counting the change. + +Jan was alone in the flat and was laying tea for the children in the +dining-room when "ting" went the electric bell. She opened the door to +find upon the threshold an exceedingly tall young man; a well-set-up, +smart young man with square shoulders, who held out his hand to her, +saying in a friendly voice: "You may just happen to remember me, Miss +Ross, but probably not. Colonel Walcote's my uncle, and he's living in +your house, you know. My name's Middleton ... I _hope_ you remember me, +for I've come to ask a favour." + +As he spoke he gave Jan his card, and on it was "Captain Miles +Middleton, R. H. A.," and the addresses of two clubs. + +She led him to the little drawing-room, bracing herself the while to be +firm in her refusal if the Walcotes wanted the house any longer, good +tenants though they were. + +She was hopelessly vague about her guest, but felt she had met him +somewhere. She didn't like to confess how slight her recollection was, +for he looked so big and brown and friendly it seemed unkind. + +He sat down, smoothed his hat, and then with an engaging smile that +showed his excellent teeth, began: "I've come--it sounds rather +farcical, doesn't it--about a dog?" + +"A dog?" Jan repeated vaguely. "What dog?" + +"Well, he's my dog at present, but I want him to be your dog--if you'll +have him." + +"You want to give me a dog--but why? Or do you only want me to keep him +a bit for you?" + +"Well, it's like this, Miss Ross; it would be cheek to ask you to keep a +young dog, and when you'd had all the trouble of him and got fond of +him--and you'll get awfully fond of him, if you have him--to take him +away again. It wouldn't be fair, it really wouldn't ... so...." + +"Wait a bit," said the cautious Jan. "What sort of a dog is he ... if it +is a he...." + +"He's a bull-terrier...." + +"Oh, but I don't think I'm very fond of bull-terriers ... aren't they +fierce and doesn't one always associate them with public-houses? I +couldn't have a fierce dog, you know, because of the two children." + +"They're always nice with children," Captain Middleton said firmly. "And +as for the pothouse idea--that's quite played out. I suppose it was that +picture with the mug and the clay pipe. He'd _love_ the children; he's +only a child himself, you know." + +"A puppy! Oh, Captain Middleton, wouldn't he eat all our shoes and +things and tear up all the rugs?" + +"I think he's past that, I do really--he'll be a year old on Monday. +He'll be a splendid watchdog, and he's not a bit deaf--lots of 'em are, +you know--and he's frightfully well-bred. Just you look at the +pedigree ..." and Captain Middleton produced from his breast-pocket a +folded foolscap document which he handed to Jan. + +She gazed at it with polite interest, though it conveyed but little to +her mind. The name "Bloomsbury" seemed to come over and over again. +There were many dates and other names, but "Bloomsbury" certainly +prevailed, and it was evident that Captain Middleton's dog had a long +pedigree; it was all quite clearly set down, and, to Jan, very +bewildering. + +"His points are on the back page," Captain Middleton said proudly, "and +there isn't a single one a perfect bull-terrier ought to have that +William Bloomsbury hasn't got." + +"Is that his name?" + +"Yes, but I call him William, only he is of the famous Bloomsbury +strain, you know, and one can't help being a bit proud of it." + +"But," Jan objected, "if he's so well-bred and perfect, he must be +valuable--so why should you want to give him to me?" + +"I'll explain," said Captain Middleton. "You see, ever since they've +been down at Wren's End, my aunt kept him for me. He's been so happy +there, Miss Ross, and grown like anything. We're stationed in St. John's +Wood just now, you know, and he'd be certain to be stolen if I took him +back there. And now my aunt's coming to London to a flat in Buckingham +Gate. Now London's no life for a dog--a young dog, anyway--he'd be +miserable. I've been down to Wren's End very often for a few days' +hunting, and I can see he's happy as a king there, and we may be ordered +anywhere any day ... and I don't want to sell him ... You see, I know if +you take him you'll be good to him ... and he _is_ such a nice beast." + +"How do you know I'd be good to him? You know nothing about me." + +"Don't I just! Besides, I've seen you, I'm seeing you now this +minute ... I don't want to force him on you, only ... a lady living +alone in the country ought to have a dog, and if you take William you +won't be sorry--I can promise you that. He's got the biggest heart, and +he's the nicest beast ... and the most faithful...." + +"Are you sure he'll be quite gentle with the children?" + +"He's gentle with everybody, and they're well known to be particularly +good with children ... you ask anyone who knows about dogs. He was given +me when he was three weeks old, and I could put him in my pocket." + +Captain Middleton was rather appealing just then, so earnest and big and +boyish. His face was broad though lean, the features rather blunt, the +eyes set wide apart; clear, trustworthy, light-blue eyes. He looked just +what he was--a healthy, happy, prosperous young Englishman without a +real care in the world. After all, Jan reflected, there was plenty of +room at Wren's End, and it was good for the children to grow up with +animals. + +"I had thought of an Airedale," she said thoughtfully, "but----" + +"They're good dogs, but quarrelsome--fight all the other dogs round +about. Now William isn't a fighter unless he's unbearably provoked, +then, of course, he fights to kill." + +"Oh dear!" sighed Jan, "that's an awful prospect. Think of the trouble +with one's neighbours----" + +"But I assure you, it doesn't happen once in a blue moon. I've never +known him fight yet." + +"I'll tell you what, Captain Middleton; let me keep him for the present, +till you know where you're going to be stationed, and then, if you find +you can have him, he's there for you to take. I'll do my best for him, +but I want you to feel he's still your dog...." + +"It's simply no end good of you, Miss Ross. I'd like you to have him +though ... May I put it this way? If you don't like him, find him a +nuisance or want to get rid of him, you send for me and I'll fetch him +away directly. But if you like him, he's your dog. There--may I leave it +at that?" + +"We'll try to make him happy, but I expect he'll miss you dreadfully.... +I know nothing about bull-terriers; do they need any special +treatment?" + +"Oh dear, no. William's as strong as a young calf. Just a bone +occasionally and any scraps there are. There's tons of his biscuits down +there ... only two meals a day and no snacks between, and as much +exercise as is convenient--though, mind you, they're easy dogs in that +way--they don't need you to be racing about all day like some." + +The present fate of William Bloomsbury with the lengthy and exalted +pedigree being settled, Jan asked politely for her tenants, Colonel and +Mrs. Walcote, heard that it had been an excellent and open season, and +enjoyed her guest's real enthusiasm about Wren's End. + +After a few minutes of general conversation he got up to go. She saw him +out and rang up the lift, but no lift came. She rang again and again. +Nothing happened. Evidently something had gone wrong, and she saw people +walking upstairs to the flats below. Just as she was explaining the +mishap to her guest, the telephone bell sounded loudly and persistently. + +"Oh dear!" she cried. "Would you mind very much stopping a young lady +with two little children, if you meet them at the bottom of the stairs, +and tell her she is on no account to carry up little Fay. It's my +friend, Miss Morton; she's out with them, and she's not at all strong; +tell her to wait for me. I'll come the minute I've answered this +wretched 'phone." + +"Don't you worry, Miss Ross, I'll stop 'em and carry up the kiddies +myself," Captain Middleton called as he started to run down, and Jan +went back to answer the telephone. + +He ran fast, for Jan's voice had been anxious and distressed. Five long +flights did he descend, and at the bottom he met Meg and the children +just arrived to hear the melancholy news from the hall porter. + +Meg always wheeled little Fay to and from the gardens in the funny +little folding "pram" they had brought from India. The plump baby was a +tight fit, but the queer little carriage was light and easily managed. +The big policeman outside the gate often held up the traffic to let Meg +and her charges get across the road safely, and she would sail serenely +through the avenue of fiercely panting monsters with Tony holding on to +her coat, while little Fay waved delightedly to the drivers. That +afternoon she was very tired, for it had started to rain, cold, gusty +March rain. She had hurried home in dread lest Tony should take cold. It +seemed the last straw, somehow, that the lift should have gone wrong. +She left the pram with the porter and was just bracing herself to carry +heavy little Fay when this very tall young man came dashing down the +staircase, saw them and raised his hat. "Miss Morton? Miss Ross has just +entrusted me with a message ... that I'm to carry her niece upstairs," +and he took little Fay out of Meg's arms. + +Meg looked up at him. She had to look up a long way--and he looked down +into a very small white face. + +The buffeting wind that had given little Fay the loveliest colour, and +Tony a very pink nose, only left Meg pallid with fatigue; but she smiled +at Captain Middleton, and it was a smile of such radiant happiness as +wholly transfigured her face. It came from the exquisite knowledge that +Jan had thought of her, had known she would be tired. + +To be loved, to be remembered, to be taken care of was to Meg the most +wonderful thing in the world. It went to her head like wine. + +Therefore did she smile at Captain Middleton in this distracting +fashion. It started tremblingly at the corners of her mouth, and +then--quite suddenly--her wan little face became dimpled and beseeching +and triumphant all at once. + +It had no connection whatsoever with Captain Middleton, but how was he +to know that? + +It fairly bowled him, middle stump, first ball. + +No one had ever smiled at him like that before. It turned him hot and +cold, and gave him a lump in his throat with the sheer heartrending +pathos of it. And he felt an insane desire to lie down and ask this +tiny, tired girl to walk upon him if it would give her the smallest +satisfaction. + +The whole thing passed in a flash, but for him it was one of those +illuminating beams that discovers a hitherto undreamed-of panorama. + +He caught up little Fay, who made no objection, and ran up all five +flights about as fast as he had run down. Jan was just coming out of the +flat. + +"Here's one!" he cried breathlessly, depositing little Fay. "And now +I'll go down and give the little chap a ride as well." + +He met them half-way up. "Now it's your turn," he said to Tony. "Would +you like to come on my back?" + +Tony, though taciturn, was not unobservant. "I think," he said solemnly, +"Meg's more tired nor me. P'raps you'd better take her." + +Meg laughed, and what the rain and wind could not do, Tony managed. Her +cheeks grew rosy. + +"I'm afraid I should be rather heavy, Tony dear, but it's kind of you to +think of it." + +She looked up at Captain Middleton and smiled again. What a kind world +it was! And really that tall young man was rather a pleasant person. So +it fell out that Tony was carried the rest of the way, and he had a +longer ride than little Fay; for his steed mounted the staircase +soberly, keeping pace with Meg; they even paused to take breath on the +landings. And it came about that Captain Middleton went back into the +flat with the children, showing no disposition to go away, and Jan could +hardly do less than ask him to share the tea she had laid in the +dining-room. + +There he got a shock, for Meg came to tea in her cap and apron. + +Out of doors she wore a long, warm coat that entirely covered the green +linen frock, and a little round fur hat. This last was a concession to +Jan, who hated the extinguisher. So Meg looked very much like any other +girl. A little younger, perhaps, than any young woman of twenty-five +has any business to look, but pretty in her queer, compelling way. + +That she looked even prettier in her uniform Captain Middleton would +have been the first to allow; but he hated it nevertheless. There seemed +to him something incongruous and wrong for a girl with a smile like that +to be anybody's nursemaid. + +To be sure, Miss Ross was a brick, and this queer little servant of hers +called her by her Christian name and contradicted her flatly twice in +the course of tea. Miss Morton certainly did not seem to be downtrodden +... but she wore a cap and an apron--a very becoming Quakerish cap ... +without any strings ... and--"it's a d----d shame," was the outcome of +all Captain Middleton's reflections. + +"Would the man never go?" Jan wondered, when after a prolonged and +hilarious tea he followed the enraptured children back to the +drawing-room and did tricks with the fire-irons. + +Meg had departed in order to get things ready for the night, and he hung +on in the hope that she would return. Vain hope; there was no sign of +her. + +He told the children all about William Bloomsbury and exacted promises +that they would love him very much. He discussed, with many +interruptions from Fay, who wanted all his attention, the entire +countryside round about Wren's End; and, at last, as there seemed really +no chance of that extraordinary girl's return, he heaved his great +length out of his chair and bade his hostess a reluctant farewell +several times over. + +In the passage he caught sight of Meg going from one room to another +with her arms full of little garments. + +"Ah," he cried, striding towards her. "Good night, Miss Morton. I hope +we shall meet again soon," and he held out his hand. + +Meg ignored the hand, her own arms were so full of clothes: "I'm afraid +that's not likely," she said, with unfeeling cheerfulness. "We all go +down to the country on Monday." + +"Yes, yes, I know. Jolly part of the world it is, too. I expect I shall +be thereabouts a good deal this summer, my relations positively swarm in +that county." + +"Good-bye," said Meg, and turned to go. Jan stood at the end of the +passage, holding the door open. + +"I say, Miss Morton, you'll try and like my William, won't you?" + +"I like all sensible animals," was Meg's response, and she vanished into +a bedroom. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +PERPLEXITIES + + +"Don't you think it is very extraordinary that I have never had one line +from Hugo since the letter I got at Aden?" asked Jan. + +It was Friday evening, the Indian mail was in, and there was a letter +from Peter--the fourth since her return. + +"But you've heard of him from Mr. Ledgard," Meg pointed out. + +"Only that he had gone to Karachi from Bombay just before Fay +died--surely he would see papers there. It seems so heartless never to +have written me a line--I can't believe it, somehow, even of Hugo--he +must be ill or something." + +"Perhaps he was ashamed to write. Perhaps he felt you would simply +loathe him for being the cause of it all." + +"I did, I do," Jan exclaimed; "but all the same he is the children's +father, and he was her husband--I don't want anything very bad to happen +to him." + +"It would simplify things very much," Meg said dreamily. + +Jan held up her hand as if to ward off a blow. + +"Don't, Meg; sometimes I find myself wishing something of the kind, and +I know it's wrong and horrible. I want as far as I can to keep in the +right with regard to Hugo, to give him no grievance against me. I've +written to that bank where he left the money, and asked them to forward +the letters if he has left any address. I've told him exactly where we +are and what we propose to do. Beyond the bare facts of Fay's death--I +told him all about her illness as dispassionately as I could--I've never +reproached him or said anything cruel. You see, the man is down and out; +though Mr. Ledgard always declared he had any amount of mysterious wires +to pull. Yet, I can't help wondering whether he is ill somewhere, with +no money and no friends, in some dreadful native quarter." + +"What about the money in the bank, then? Did you use it?" + +Jan blushed. "No, I couldn't bear to touch his money ... Mr. Ledgard +said it was idiotic...." + +"So it was; it was Fay's money, not his. For all your good sense, Jan, +sometimes you're sentimental as a schoolgirl." + +"I daresay it was stupid, and I didn't dare to tell Mr. Ledgard I'd left +it," Jan said humbly; "but I felt that perhaps that money might help him +if things got very desperate; I left it in his name and a letter telling +him I had done so ... I didn't _give_ him any money...." + +"It was precisely the same thing." + +"And he may never have got the letter." + +"I hope he hasn't." + +"Oh, Meg, I do so hate uncertainty. I'd rather know the worst. I always +have the foreboding that he will suddenly turn up at Wren's End and +threaten to take the children away ... and get money out of me that way +... and there's none to spare...." + +"Jan, you've got into a thoroughly nervous, pessimistic state about +Hugo. Why in the world should he _want_ the children? They'd be terribly +in his way, and wherever he put them he'd have to pay _something_. You +know very well his people wouldn't keep them for nothing, even if he +were fool enough (for the sake of blackmailing you) to threaten to place +them there. His sisters wouldn't--not for nothing. What did Fay say +about his sisters? I remember one came to the wedding, but she has left +no impression on my mind. He has two, hasn't he?" + +"Yes, but only one came, the Blackpool one. But Fay met both of them, +for she spent a week-end with each, with Hugo, after she was married." + +"Well, and what did she say?" + +Jan laughed and sighed: "She said--you remember how Fay could say the +severest things in the softest, gentlest voice--that 'for social +purposes they were impossible, but they were doubtless excellent and +worthy of all esteem and that they were exactly suited to the _milieu_ +in which they lived.'" + +"And where do they live?" + +"One lives at Blackpool--she's married to ... I forget exactly what he +is--but it's something to do with letting houses. They're quite well off +and all her towels had crochet lace at the ends. Fay was much impressed +by this, as it scratched her nose. They also gave you 'doylies' at +afternoon tea and no servant ever came into the room without knocking." + +"Any children?" + +"Yes, three." + +"And the other sister?" + +"She lives at Poulton-le-Fylde, and her husband had to do with a +newspaper syndicate. Quite amusing he was, Fay says, but very shaky as +to the letter 'H.'" + +"Would they like the children?" + +"They might, for they've none of their own, but they certainly wouldn't +take them unless they were paid for, as they were not well off. They +were rather down on the Blackpool sister, Fay said, for extravagance and +general swank." + +"What about the grandparents?" + +"In Guernsey? They're quite nice old people, I believe, but +curiously--of course I'm quoting Fay--comatose and uninterested in +things, 'behindhand with the world,' she said. They thought Hugo very +wonderful, and seemed rather afraid of him. What he has told them lately +I don't know. He wrote very seldom, they said; but _I've_ written to +them, saying I've got the children and where we shall be. If they +express a wish to see the children I'll ask them to Wren's End. If, as +would be quite reasonable, they say it's too far to come--they're old +people, you know--I suppose one of us would need to take them over to +Guernsey for a visit. I do so want to do the right thing all round, and +then they can't say I've kept the children away from their father's +relations." + +"Scotch people always think such a lot about relations," Meg grumbled. +"I should leave them to stew in their own juice. Why should you bother +about them if he doesn't?" + +"They're all quite respectable, decent folk, you know, though they +mayn't be our kind. The father, I fancy, failed in business after he +came back from India. Fay said he was very meek and depressed always. I +think she was glad none of them came to the wedding except the Blackpool +sister, for she didn't want Daddie to see them. He thought the Blackpool +sister dreadful (he told me afterwards that she 'exacerbated his mind +and offended his eye'), but he was charming to her and never said a word +to Fay." + +"I don't see much sign of Hugo and his people in the children." + +"We can't tell, they're so little. One thing does comfort me, they show +no disposition to tell lies; but that, I think, is because they have +never been frightened. You see, everyone bowed down before them; and +whatever Indian servants may be in other respects, they seem to me +extraordinarily kind and patient with children." + +"Jan, what are your views about the bringing up of children?... You've +never said ... and I should like to know. You see, we're both"--here Meg +sighed deeply and looked portentously grave--"in a position of awful +responsibility." + +They were sitting on each side of the hearth, with their toes on the +fender. Meg had been sewing at an overall for little Fay, but at that +moment she laid it on her knee and ran her hands through her cropped +hair, then about two inches long all over her head, so that it stood on +end in broken spirals and feathery curls above her bright eyes. In the +evening the uniform was discarded "by request." + +Jan looked across at her and laughed. + +So funny and so earnest; so small, and yet so great with purpose. + +"I don't think I've any views. R. L. S. summed up the whole duty of +children ages ago, and it's our business to see that they do it--that's +all. Don't you remember: + + A child should always say what's true, + And speak when he is spoken to, + And behave mannerly at table: + At least as far as he is able. + +It's no use to expect too much, is it?" + +"If you expect to get the second injunction carried out in the case of +your niece you're a most optimistic person. For three weeks now I've +been perambulating Kensington Gardens with those children, and I have +never in the whole course of my life entered into conversation with so +many strangers, and it's always she who begins it. Then complications +arise and I have to intervene. I don't mind policemen and park-keepers +and roadmen, but I rather draw the line at idly benevolent old gentlemen +who join our party and seem to spend the whole morning with us...." + +"But, Meg, that never happens when I'm with you. I confess I've left +you to it this last week...." + +"And what am I here for except to be left to it--I don't mean that +anyone's rude or pushing--but Miss Tancred _is_ so friendly, and I'm not +dignified and awe-inspiring like you, you great big Jan; and the poor +men are encouraged, directly and deliberately encouraged, by your niece. +I never knew a child with such a continual flow of conversation." + +"Poor Meg," said Jan, "you won't have much more of it. Little Fay _is_ a +handful, I confess; but I always feel it must be a bit hard to be hushed +continually--and just when one feels particularly bright and sparkling, +to have all one's remarks cut short...." + +"You needn't pity that child. No amount of hushing has any effect; you +might just as well hush a blackbird or a thrush. Don't look so worried, +Jan. Did Mr. Ledgard say anything about Hugo in that letter to-night?" + +"Only that he was known to have left Karachi in a small steamer going +round the coast, but after that nothing more. Mr. Ledgard has a friend +in the Police, and even there they've heard nothing lately. I think +myself the Indian Government _wants_ to lose sight of Hugo. He's +inconvenient and disgraceful, and they'd like him blotted out as soon as +possible." + +"What else does Mr. Ledgard say? He seems to write good long letters." + +"He is coming home at the end of April for six months." + +"Oh ... then we shall see him, I suppose?" + +"I hope so." + +Meg looked keenly at Jan, who was staring into the fire, her eyes soft +and dreamy; and almost as if she was unconsciously thinking aloud, she +said: "I do hope, if Hugo chooses to turn up, he'll wait till Mr. +Ledgard is back in England." + +"You think he could manage him?" + +"I know he could." + +"Then let us pray for his return," said Meg. + +The clock on the mantelpiece struck eleven. + +"Bed-time," said Meg, "but I must have just one cigarette first. That's +what's so lovely about being with you, Jan--you don't mind. Of course +I'd never do it before the children." + +"You wouldn't shock them if you did. Fay smoked constantly." + +Meg lit her cigarette and clearly showed her real enjoyment. She had +taken to it first when she was about fifteen, as she found it helped her +to feel less hungry. Now it had become as much a necessity to her as to +many men, and the long abstinence of term-time had always been a +penance. + +She made some good rings, and, leaning forward to look through them at +Jan, said: "By the way, I must just tell you that for the last three +afternoons we've met that Captain Middleton in the Gardens." + +"Well?" + +"And he talks everlastingly about his dog--that William Bloomsbury +creature. I know _all_ the points of a bull-terrier now--'Well-set head +gradually tapering to muzzle, which is very powerful and well-filled up +in front of the eyes. Nose large and black. Teeth dead-level and big' +... oh! and reams more, every bit of him accurately described." + +"I'm a little afraid of those teeth so 'dead-level and big'--I foresee +trouble." + +"Oh, no," said Meg easily. "He's evidently a most affectionate brute. +That young man puzzles me. He's manifestly devoted to the dog, but he's +so sure he'd be stolen he'd rather have him away from him down at Wren's +End than here with him, to run that risk." + +"Surely," said Jan, "Kensington Gardens are some distance from St. +John's Wood." + +"So one would think, but the rich and idle take taxis, and he seems to +think he can in some way insure the welfare of his dog through the +children and me." + +"And what about the old gentlemen? Do they join the party as well?" + +"Oh, dear no; no old gentlemen would dare to come within miles of us +with that young man in charge of little Fay. He's like your Mr. +Ledgard--very protective." + +"I like him for being anxious about his dog, but I'm not quite so sure +that I approve of the means he takes to insure its happiness." + +"I didn't encourage him in the least, I assure you. I pointed out that +he most certainly ought not to be walking about with a nurse and two +children. That the children without the nurse would be all right, but +that my being there made the whole thing highly inexpedient, and _infra +dig_." + +"Meg!... you didn't!" + +"I did, indeed. There was no use mincing matters." + +"And what did he say?" + +"He said, 'Oh, that's all bindles'--whatever that may mean." + +"You mustn't go to the Gardens alone any more. I'll come with you +to-morrow, or, better still, we'll all go to Kew if it's fine." + +"I _should_ be glad, though I grudge the fares; but you needn't come. I +know how busy you are, with Hannah away and so much to see to--and what +earthly use am I if I can't look after the children without you?" + +"You do look after the children without me for hours and hours on end. I +could never trust anyone else as I do you." + +"I _am_ getting to manage them," Meg said proudly; "but just to-day I +must tell you--it was rather horrid--we came face to face with the +Trents in the Baby's Walk. Mrs. Trent and Lotty, the second girl, the +big, handsome one--and he evidently knows them...." + +"Who evidently knows them?" + +"Captain Middleton, silly! (I told you he was with us, talking about his +everlasting dog)--and they greeted him with effusion, so he had to stop. +But you can imagine how they glared at me. Of course I walked on with +Tony, but little Fay had his hand--I was wheeling the go-cart thing and +she stuck firmly to him, and I heard her interrupting the conversation +all the time. He followed us directly, I'll say that for him, but it was +a bad moment ... You see, they had a right to glare...." + +"They had nothing of the kind. I wish I got the chance of glaring at +them. Daddie _saw_ Mrs. Trent; he explained everything, and she said she +quite understood." + +"She would, to him, he was so nice always; but you see, Jan, I know what +she believes and what she has said, and what she will probably say to +Captain Middleton if she gets the chance." + +Meg's voice broke. "Of course I don't care----" + +She held her tousled head very high and stuck out her sharp little chin. + +"My dear," said Jan, "what with my gregarious niece and my +too-attractive nurse, I think it's a good thing we're all going down to +Wren's End, where the garden-walls are high and the garden fairly large. +Besides all that, there will be that dog with the teeth 'dead-level and +big.'" + +"Remember," said Meg. "He treated me like a princess always." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +WREN'S END + + +It stands just beyond the village of Amber Guiting, on the side furthest +from the station, which is a mile from the village. + +"C. C. S. 1819" is carved above the front door, but the house was built +a good fifty years previous to that date. + +One Charles Considine Smith, who had been a shipper of sherry in +Billiter Street, in the City of London, bought it in that year from a +Quaker called Solomon Page, who planted the yew hedge that surrounds the +smooth green lawn seen from the windows of the morning-room. There was a +curious clause attached to the title-deeds, which stipulated that no +cats should be kept by the owner of Wren's End, lest they should +interfere with the golden-crested wrens that built in the said yew +hedge, or the brown wrens building at the foot of the hedges in the +orchard. Appended to this injunction were the following verses: + + If aught disturb the wrens that build, + If ever little wren be killed + By dweller in Wren's End-- + + Misfortunes--whence he shall not know-- + Shall fall on him like noiseless snow, + And all his steps attend. + + Peace be upon this house; and all + That dwell therein good luck befall, + That do the wrens befriend. + +Charles Considine Smith faithfully kept to his agreement regarding the +protection of the wrens, and much later wrote a series of articles upon +their habits, which appeared in the _North Cotswold Herald_. He seems to +have been on friendly terms with Solomon Page, who, having inherited a +larger property in the next county, removed thence when he sold Wren's +End. + +In 1824 Smith married Tranquil Page, daughter of Solomon. She was then +thirty-seven years old, and, according to one of her husband's diaries, +"a staid person like myself." She was twenty years younger than her +husband and bore him one child, a daughter also named Tranquil. + +She, however, appears to have been less staid than her parents, for she +ran away before she was twenty with a Scottish advocate called James +Ross. + +The Smiths evidently forgave the wilful Tranquil, for, on the death of +Charles, she and her husband left Scotland and settled with her mother +at Wren's End. She had two children, Janet, the great-aunt who left Jan +Wren's End, and James, Jan's grandfather, who was sent to Edinburgh for +his education, and afterwards became a Writer to the Signet. He married +and settled in Edinburgh, preferring Scotland to England, and it was +with his knowledge and consent that Wren's End was left to his sister +Janet. + +Janet never married. She was energetic, prudent, and masterful, having +an excellent head for business. She was kind to her nephews and nieces +in a domineering sort of way, and had always a soft place in her heart +for Anthony, though she regarded him as more or less of a scatter-brain. +When she was nearly eighty she commanded his little girls to visit her. +Jan was then fourteen and Fay eleven. She liked them because they had +good manners and were neither of them in the least afraid of her. And at +her death, six years later, she left Wren's End to Jan absolutely--as it +stood; but she left her money to Anthony's elder brother, who had a +large family and was not particularly well off. + +That year was a good artistic year for Anthony, and he spent over five +hundred pounds in--as he put it--"making Jan's house habitable." + +This proved not a bad investment, for they had let it every winter since +to Colonel Walcote for the hunting season, as three packs of hounds met +within easy reach of it; and although the stabling accommodation at +Wren's End was but small, plenty of loose boxes were always obtainable +from Farmer Burgess quite near. + +Amber Guiting is a big village, almost a little town. It possesses an +imposing main street wherein are several shops, among them a stationer's +with a lending library in connection with Mudie's; a really beautiful +old inn with a courtyard; and grave-looking, dignified houses occupied +by the doctor, a solicitor, and several other persons of acknowledged +gentility. + +There were many "nice places" round about, and altogether the +inhabitants of Amber Guiting prided themselves, with some reason, on the +social and sthetic advantages of their neighbourhood. Moreover, it is +not quite three hours from Paddington. You catch the express from the +junction. + +Notwithstanding all these agreeable circumstances, William Bloomsbury +was very lonely and miserable. + +All the friends he knew and loved had gone, leaving him in the somewhat +stepmotherly charge of a caretaker from the village, who was supposed to +be getting the house ready for its owner. To join her came +Hannah--having left her young ladies with an "orra-buddy" in the flat. +And after Hannah came the caretaker-lady did not stop long, for their +ideas on the subject of cleanliness were diametrically opposed. Hannah +was faithful and punctual as regarded William's meals; but though his +body was more comfortable than during the caretaker's reign, his heart +was empty and hungry, and he longed ardently for social intercourse and +an occasional friendly pat. + +Presently in Hannah's train came Anne Chitt, a meek young assistant from +the village, who did occasionally gratify William's longing for a little +attention; but so soon as she began to pat him and say he was a good +dog, she was called away by Hannah to sweep or dust or wash something. +In William's opinion the whole house was a howling wilderness where +pails of water easily upset, and brooms that fell upon the unsuspecting +with resounding blows lay ambushed in unexpected places. + +Men and dogs alike abhor "spring-cleaning," and William's heart died +within him. + +There came a day, however, when things were calmer. The echoing, +draughty house grew still and warm, and a fire was lit in the hall. +William lay in front of it unmolested; but he felt dejected and lonely, +and laid his head down on his crossed paws in patient melancholy. + +Late in the afternoon, there came a sound of wheels in the drive. Hannah +and Anne Chitt, decorous in black dresses and clean aprons, came into +the hall and opened the front door, and in three minutes William knew +that happier times were in store for him. The "station-fly" stopped at +the door, and regardless of Hannah's reproving voice he rushed out to +welcome the strangers. Two children, nice children, who appeared as glad +to see him as he was to see them, who wished him many happy returns of +his birthday--William had forgotten it was his birthday--and were as +lavish with pats and what little Fay called "stlokes" as Hannah had been +niggardly. There were also two young ladies, who addressed him kindly +and seemed pleasantly aware of his existence, and William liked young +ladies, for the three Miss Walcotes had thoroughly spoiled him. But he +decided to attach himself most firmly to the children and the very small +young lady. Perhaps they would stay. In his short experience grown +people had a cruel way of disappearing. There was that tall young man +... William hardly dared let himself think about that tall young man who +had allowed him to lie upon his bed and was so kind and jolly. "Master" +William had called him. Ah, where was he? Perhaps he would come back +some day. In the meantime here were plenty of people to love. William +cheered up. + +[Illustration: William rushed out to welcome the strangers. Two ... nice +children.] + +He wished to ingratiate himself, and proceeded to show off his one +accomplishment. With infinite difficulty and patience the Miss Walcotes +had taught him to "give a paw"; so now, on this first evening, William +followed the children about solemnly offering one paw and then the +other; a performance which was greeted with acclamation. + +When the children went to the bathroom he somehow got shut outside. So +he lay down and breathed heavily through the bottom of the door and +varied this by thin, high-pitched yelps--which were really squeals, and +very extraordinary as proceeding from such a large and heavy dog. + +"William wants to come in," Tony said. He still always accompanied his +sister to the bath. + +Meg was seized with an inspiration. "I know why," she exclaimed. "He +expects to see little Fay in the big bath." + +Fay looked from Meg to her brother and from her brother to Meg. + +Another dismal squeal from under the door. + +"Does he tluly espect it?" she asked anxiously. + +"I think so," Meg said gravely, "and we can't let him in if you're going +to be washed in the little bath; he'd be so disappointed." + +The little bath stood ready on its stand. Fay turned her back upon it +and went and looked over the edge of the big bath. It was a very big +bath, white and beautiful, with innumerable silvered handles that +produced sprays and showers and waves and all sorts of wonders. An +extravagance of Anthony's. + +"Will William come in, too?" she asked. + +"No; he'd make such a mess; but he'd love to see you. We'll all bathe +William some other time." + +More squeals from outside, varied by dolorous snores. + +"Let him in," said little Fay. "I'll show him me." + +Quick as thought Meg lifted her in, opened the door to the delighted +William, who promptly stood on his hind legs, with his front paws on the +bath, and looked over the edge at little Fay. + +"See me swim," she exclaimed proudly, sitting down in the water, while +William, with his tongue hanging out and a fond smile of admiration on +his foolish countenance, tried to lick the plump pink shoulders +presented to his view. "This is a muts nicer baff than the nasty little +one. I can't think what you bringed it for, deah Med." + +"Deah Med" and Tony nodded gaily to one another. + +Hannah had made William sleep in the scullery, which he detested. She +put his basket there and his blanket, and he was warm enough, but +creature comforts matter little to the right kind of dog. It's human +fellowship he craves. That night she came to fetch him at bed-time, and +he refused point-blank to go. He put his head on Meg's knee and gazed at +her with beseeching eyes that said as plainly as possible: "Don't banish +me--where you go I go--don't break my heart and send me away into the +cold." + +Perhaps the cigarette smoke that hung about Meg gave him confidence. His +master smelt like that. And William went to bed with his master. + +"D'you think he might sleep in the dressing-room?" Meg asked. "I know +how young dogs hate to be alone at night. Put his basket there, +Hannah--I'll let him out and see to him, and you could get him first +thing in the morning." + +Hannah gave a sniff of disapproval, but she was always very careful to +do whatever Meg asked her at once and ungrudgingly. It was partly an +expression of her extreme disapproval of the uniform. But Meg thought it +was prompted entirely by Hannah's fine feeling, and loved her dearly in +consequence. + +Nearly all the bedrooms at Wren's End had dressing-rooms. Tony slept in +Jan's, with the door between left open. Fay's little cot was drawn up +close to Meg's bed. William and his basket occupied the dressing-room, +and here, also, the door was left open. + +While Meg undressed, William was quite still and quiet, but when she +knelt down to say her prayers he was overcome with curiosity, and, +getting out of his basket, lurched over to her to see what she was +about. Could she be crying that she covered her face? William couldn't +bear people to cry. + +He thrust his head under her elbow. She put her arm round his neck and +he sat perfectly still. + +"Pray for your master, William," Meg whispered. + + * * * * * * * * + +"I like to look at it," said Tony. + +"Oh, London may be very gay, but it's nothing to the countryside," sang +Meg. + +"What nelse?" inquired little Fay, who could never be content with a +mere snatch of song. + +"Oh, there's heaps and heaps of nelse," Jan answered. "Come along, +chicks, we'll go and see everything. This is home, you know, where dear +Mummy wanted you to be." + +It was their first day at Wren's End, and the weather was kind. They +were all four in the drive, looking back at the comfortable +stone-fronted Georgian house. The sun was shining, a cheerful April sun +that had little warmth in it but much tender light; and this showed how +all around the hedges were getting green; that buds were bursting from +brown twigs, as if the kind spring had covered the bare trees with a +thin green veil; and that all sorts of green spears were thrusting up in +the garden beds. + +Down the drive they all four ran, accompanied by a joyfully galumphing +William, who was in such good spirits that he occasionally gave vent to +a solemn deep-chested bark. + +When they came to the squat grey lodge, there was Mrs. Earley standing +in her doorway to welcome them. Mrs. Earley was Earley's mother, and +Earley was gardener and general factotum at Wren's End. Mrs. Earley +looked after the chickens, and when she had exchanged the news with Jan, +and rather tearfully admired "poor Mrs. Tancred's little 'uns," she +escorted them all to the orchard to see the cocks and hens and chickens. +Then they visited the stable, where Placid, the pony, was sole occupant. +In former years Placid had been kept for the girls to drive in the +governess-cart and to pull the heavy lawn-mower over the lawns. And +Hannah had been wont to drive him into Amesberrow every Sunday, that she +might attend the Presbyterian church there. She put him up at a +livery-stable near her church and always paid for him herself. Anthony +Ross usually had hired a motor for the summer months. Now they would +depend entirely on Placid and a couple of bicycles for getting about. +All round the walled garden did they go, and Meg played horses with the +children up and down the broad paths while Jan discussed vegetables with +Earley. And last of all they went to the back door to ask Hannah for +milk and scones, for the keen, fresh air had made them all hungry. + +Refreshed and very crumby, they were starting out again when Hannah laid +a detaining hand on Jan's arm: "Could you speak a minute, Miss Jan?" + +The children and Meg gone, Hannah led the way into the kitchen with an +air of great mystery; but she did not shut the doors, as Anne Chitt was +busy upstairs. + +"What is it, Hannah?" Jan asked nervously, for she saw that this +summons portended something serious. + +"It's about Miss Morton I want to speak, Miss Jan. I was in hopes she'd +never wear they play-acting claes down here ..." (when Hannah was deeply +earnest she always became very Scotch), "but it seems I hoped in vain. +And what am I to say to ither folk when they ask me about her?" + +"What is there to say, Hannah, except that she is my dear friend, and by +her own wish is acting as nurse to my sister's children?" + +"I ken that; I'm no sayin' a word against that; but first of all she +goes and crops her hair--fine hair she had too, though an awfu-like +colour--and not content with flying in the face of Providence that way, +she must needs dress like a servant. And no a weiss-like servant, +either, but one o' they besoms ye see on the hoardings in London wha act +in plays. Haven't I seen the pictures mysel'? 'The Quaker Gerrl,' or +some such buddy." + +"Oh, I assure you, Hannah, Miss Morton in no way resembles those ladies, +and I can't see that it's any business of ours what she wears. You know +that she certainly does what she has undertaken to do in the best way +possible." + +"I'm no saying a word against her wi' the children, and there never was +a young lady who gave less trouble, save in the way o' tobacco ash, and +was more ready to help--but yon haverals is very difficult to explain. +_You_ may understand, Miss Jan. I may _say_ I understand--though I +don't--but who's to make the like o' that Anne Chitt understand? Only +this morning she keeps on at me wi' her questions like the clapper o' a +bell. 'Is she a servant? If she's no, why does she wear servants' claes? +Why does she have hair like a boy? Has she had a fever or something +wrong wi' her heid? Is she one of they suffragette buddies and been in +prison?'--till I was fair deeved and bade the lassie hold her tongue. +But so it will be wherever Miss Morton goes in they fantastic claes. +Now, Miss Jan, tell me the honest truth--did you ever see a +self-respecting, respectable servant in the like o' yon? Does she _look_ +like any servant you've ever heard tell of out of a stage-play?" + +"Not a bit, Hannah; she looks exactly like herself, and therefore not in +the least like any other person. Don't you worry. Miss Morton requires +no explanation. All we must do is to see that she doesn't overwork +herself." + +"Then ye'll no speak to her, Miss Jan?" + +"Not I, Hannah. Why should I dictate to her as to what she wears? She +doesn't dictate to me." + +This was not strictly true, for Meg was most interfering in the matter +of Jan's clothes. Hannah shook her head. "I thocht it my duty to speak, +Miss Jan, and I'll say no more. But it's sheer defiance o' her Maker to +crop her heid and to clothe herself in whim-whams, when she could be +dressed like a lady; and I'm real vexed she should make such an object +of herself when she might just be quite unnoticeable, sae wee and +shelpit as she is." + +"I'm afraid," said Jan, "that Miss Morton will never be quite +unnoticeable, whatever she may wear. But don't let us talk about it any +more. You understand, don't you, Hannah?" + +When Jan's voice took that tone Hannah knew that further argument was +unavailing. + +Jan turned to go, and saw Tony waiting for her in the open doorway. +Neither of them had either heard or seen him come. + +Quite silently he took her hand and did not speak till they were well +away from the house. Meg and little Fay were nowhere in sight. Jan +wondered how much he had heard. + +"She's a very proud cook, isn't she?" he said presently. + +"She's a very old servant," Jan explained, "who has known me all my +life." + +"If," said Tony, as though after deep thought, "she gets very +chubbelsome, you send for me. Then I will go to her and say '_Jao!_'" +Tony followed this up by some fluent Hindustani which, had Jan but known +it, seriously reflected on the character of Hannah's female ancestry. +"I'll say '_Jao!_'," he went on. "I'll say it several times very loud, +and point to the door. Then she'll roll up her bedding, and you'll give +her money and her chits, and she will depart." + +They had reached a seat. On this Jan sank, for the vision of Tony +pointing majestically down the drive while little Hannah staggered into +the distance under a rolled-up mattress, was too much for her. + +"But I don't want her to go," she gasped. "I love her dearly." + +"She should not speak to you like that; she scolded you," he said +firmly. "She is a servant ... She _is_ a servant?" he added doubtfully. + +"How much did you hear of what she said? Did you understand?" + +"I came back directly to fetch you, I thought she _sounded_ cross. Mummy +was afraid when people were cross; she liked me to be with her. I +thought you would like me to be with you. If she was very rude I could +beat her. I beat the boy--not Peter's boy, our boy--he was rude to +Mummy. He did not dare to touch me because I am a sahib ... I will beat +Hannah if you like." + +Tony stood in front of Jan, very earnest, with an exceedingly pink nose, +for the wind was keen. He had never before said so much at one time. + +"Shall I go back and beat her?" he asked again. + +"Certainly not," Jan cried, clutching Tony lest he should fly off there +and then. "We don't _do_ such things here at home. Nobody is beaten, +ever. I'm sure Peter never beats his servants." + +"No," Tony allowed. "A big sahib must not strike a servant, but I can, +and I do if they are rude. She was rude about Meg." + +"She didn't mean to be rude." + +"She found fault with her clothes and her hair. She is a very proud and +impudent cook." + +"Tony dear, you really don't understand. She wasn't a bit rude. She was +afraid other people might mistake Meg for a servant. She was all _for_ +Meg--truly she was." + +"She scolded you," he rejoined obstinately. + +"Not really, Tony; she didn't mean to scold." + +Tony looked very hard at Jan. + +In silence they stared at one another for quite a minute. Jan got up off +the seat. + +"Let's go and find the others," she said. + +"She is a very proud cook," Tony remarked once more. + +Jan sighed. + + * * * * * + +That night while she was getting ready for bed Tony woke up. His cot was +placed so that he could see into Jan's room, and the door between was +always left open. She was standing before the dressing-table, taking +down her hair. + +Unlike the bedrooms at the flat, the room was not cold though both the +windows were open. Wren's End was never cold, though always fresh, for +one of Anthony's earliest improvements had been a boiler-house and +central heating, with radiators set under the windows, so that they +could always stand open. + +Jan had not put on her dressing-gown, and her night-dress had rather +short, loose sleeves that fell back from her arms as she raised them. + +He watched the white arm wielding the brush with great pleasure; he +decided he liked to look at it. + +"Auntie Jan!" + +She turned and flung her hair back from her face in a great silver +cloud. + +"You awake, sonny! Did I make a noise?" + +"No, I just woke. Auntie Jan, will Daddie ever come here?" + +"I expect so." + +"Well, listen. If he does, he shan't take your things, your pretty +twinkly things. I won't let him." + +Jan stood as if turned to stone. + +"He took Mummy's. I saw him; I couldn't stop him, I was so little. But +she _said_--she said it twice before she went away from that last +bungalow--she said: 'Take care of Auntie Jan, Tony; don't let Daddie +take her things.' So I won't." + +Tony was sitting up. His room was all in darkness; two candles were lit +on Jan's dressing-table. He could see her, but she couldn't see him. + +She came to him, stooped over him, and laid her cheek against his so +that they were both veiled with her hair. "Darling, I don't think poor +Daddie would want to take my things. You must try not to think hardly of +Daddie." + +Tony parted the veil of hair with a gentle hand so that they could both +see the candles. + +"You don't know my Daddie ... much," he said, "do you?" + +Jan shuddered. + +"I saw him," he went on in his queer little unemotional voice. "I saw +him take all her pretty twinkly things; and her silver boxes. I'm glad I +sleep here." + +"Did she mind much?" Jan whispered. + +"I don't know. She didn't see him take them, only me. She hadn't come to +bed. She never said nothing to me--only about you." + +"I don't expect," Jan made a great effort to speak naturally, "that +Daddie would care about my things ... It's different, you see." + +"I'm glad I sleep here," Tony repeated, "and there's William only just +across the passage." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +"THE BLUDGEONINGS OF CHANCE" + + +They had been at Wren's End nearly three weeks, and sometimes Jan +wondered if she appeared to Tony as unlike her own conception of herself +as Tony's of his father was unlike what she had pictured him. + +She knew Hugo Tancred to be dishonest, shifty, and wholly devoid of a +sense of honour, but she had up till quite lately always thought of him +as possessing a lazy sort of good-nature. + +Tony was changing this view. + +He was not yet at all talkative, but every now and then when he was +alone with her he became frank and communicative, as reserved people +often will when suddenly they let themselves go. And his very simplicity +gave force to his revelations. + +During their last year together in India it was evident that downright +antagonism had existed between Hugo Tancred and his little son. Tony had +weighed his father and found him wanting; and it was clear that he had +tried to insert his small personality as a buffer between his father and +mother. + +Jan talked constantly to the children of their mother. Her portraits, +Anthony's paintings and sketches, were all over the house, in every +variety of happy pose. One of the best was hung at the foot of Tony's +cot. The gentle blue eyes seemed to follow him in wistful benediction, +and alone in bed at night he often thought of her, and of his home in +India. It was, then, quite natural that he should talk of them to this +Auntie Jan who had evidently loved his mother well; and from Tony Jan +learned a good deal more about her brother-in-law than she had ever +heard from his wife. + +Tony loved to potter about with his aunt in the garden. She worked +really hard, for there was much to do, and he tried his best to assist, +often being a very great hindrance; but she never sent him away, for she +desired above all things to gain his confidence. + +One day after a hard half-hour's weeding, when Tony had wasted much time +by pulling up several sorts of the wrong thing, Jan felt her temper +getting edgy, so they sat down to rest upon one of the many convenient +seats to be found at Wren's End. Anthony hated a garden where you +couldn't sit comfortably and smoke, wheresoever the prospect was +pleasing. + +Tony sat down too, looking almost rosy after his labours. + +He didn't sit close and cuddly, as little Fay would have done, but right +at the other end of the seat, where he could stare at her. Every day was +bringing Tony more surely to the conclusion that "he liked to look at" +his aunt. + +"You like Meg, don't you?" he said. + +"No," Jan shook her head. "I don't like her. I love her; which is quite +a different thing." + +"Do you like people and love them?" + +"I like some people--a great many people--then there are others, not so +many, that I love--you're one of them." + +"Is Fay?" + +"Certainly, dear little Fay." + +"And Peter?" + +For a moment Jan hesitated. With heightened colour she met Tony's grave, +searching eyes. Above everything she desired to be always true and +sincere with him, that he might, as on that first night in England, feel +that he "believed" her. "I have every reason to love Mr. Ledgard," she +said slowly: "he was so wonderfully kind to all of us." She was +determined to be loyal to Peter with poor Fay's children. Jan hated +ingratitude. To have said she only liked Peter must have given Tony the +impression that she was both forgetful and ungrateful. She would not +risk that even though she might risk misunderstanding of another kind if +he ever repeated her words to anybody else. + +Her heart beat rather faster than was comfortable, and she was thankful +that she and Tony were alone. + +"Who _do_ you like?" he asked. + +"Nearly everybody; the people in the village, our good neighbours ... +Can't you see the difference yourself? Now, you love your dear Mummy and +you like ... say, William----" + +"No," Tony said firmly, "I love William. I don't think," he went on, "I +like people ... much. Either I love them like you said, or I don't care +about them at all ... or I hate them." + +"That," said Jan, "is a mistake. It's no use to hate people." + +"But if you feel like it ... I hate people if they cheat me." + +"But who on earth would cheat you? What do you mean?" + +"Once," said Tony, and by the monotonous, detached tone of his voice Jan +knew he was going to talk about his father, "my Daddie asked me if I'd +like to see smoke come out of his ears ... an' he said: 'Put your hand +here on me and watch very careful.'" Tony pointed to Jan's chest. "I put +my hand there and I watched and watched an' he hurt me with the end of +his cigar. There's the mark!" He held out a grubby little hand, back +uppermost, for Jan's inspection, and there, sure enough, was the little +round white scar. + +"And what did you do?" she asked. + +"I bit him." + +"Oh, Tony, how dreadful!" + +"I shouldn't of minded so much if he'd really done it--the smoke out of +his ears, I mean; but not one teeniest little puff came. I watched so +careful ... He cheated me." + +Jan said nothing. What could she say? Hot anger burned in her heart +against Hugo. She could have bitten him herself. + +"Peter was there," Tony went on, "and Peter said it served him right." + +"Yes," said Jan, grasping at this straw, "but what did Peter say to +you?" + +"He said, 'Sahibs don't cry and sahibs don't bite,' and if I was a sahib +I mustn't do it, so I don't. I don't bite people often." + +"I should hope not; besides, you know, sometimes quite good-natured +people will do things in fun, never thinking it will hurt." + +Tony gazed gloomily at Jan. "He cheated me," he repeated. "He said he +would make it come out of his ears, and it didn't. He didn't like +me--that's why." + +"I don't think you ought to say that, and be so unforgiving. I expect +Daddie forgot all about your biting him directly, and yet you remember +what he did after this long time." + +Poor Jan did try so hard to be fair. + +"I wasn't afraid of him," Tony went on, as though he hadn't heard, "not +really. Mummy was. She was drefully afraid. He said he'd whip me because +I was so surly, and she was afraid he would ... I _knew_ he wouldn't, +not unless he could do it some cheaty way, and you can't whip people +that way. But it frightened Mummy. She used to send me away when he +came...." + +Tony paused and knitted his brows, then suddenly he smiled. "But I +always came back very quick, because I knew she wanted me, and I liked +to look at him. He liked Fay, I suppose he liked to look at her, so do +I. Nobody wants to look at me ... much ... except Mummy." + +"I do," Jan said hastily. "I like to look at you just every bit as much +as I like to look at Fay. I think you care rather too much what people +look like, Tony." + +"It does matter a lot," Tony said obstinately. + +"Other things matter much more. Courage and kindness and truth and +honesty. Look at Mr. Ledgard--he's not what you'd call a beautiful +person, and yet I'm sure we all like to look at him." + +"Sometimes you say Peter, and sometimes Mr. Ledgard. Why?" + +Again Jan's heart gave that queer, uncomfortable jump. She certainly +always _thought_ of him as Peter. Quite unconsciously she occasionally +spoke of him as Peter. Meg had observed this, but, unlike Tony, made no +remark. + +"Why?" Tony repeated. + +"I suppose," Jan mumbled feebly, "it's because I hear the rest of you do +it. I've no sort of right to." + +"Auntie Jan," Tony said earnestly. "What is a devil?" + +"I haven't the remotest idea, Tony," Jan replied, with the utmost +sincerity. + +"It isn't anything very nice, is it, or nice to look at?" + +"It might be," said Jan, with Scottish caution. + +"Daddie used to call me a surly little devil--when I used to come back +because Mummy was frightened ... she was always frightened when he +talked about money, and he did it a lot ... When he saw me, he would +say: 'Wot you doing here, you surly little devil--listening, eh?'" +Tony's youthful voice took on such a snarl that Jan positively jumped, +and put out her hand to stop him. "'I'll give you somefin to listen +to....'" + +"Tony, Tony, couldn't you try to forget all that?" + +Tony shook his head. "No! I shall never forget it, because, you see, +it's all mixed up with Mummy so, and you said"--here Tony held up an +accusing small finger at Jan--"you said I was never to forget her, not +the least little bit." + +"I know I did," Jan owned, and fell to pondering what was best to be +done about these memories. Absently she dug her hoe into the ground, +making ruts in the gravel, while Tony watched her solemnly. + +"Then why," he went on, "do you not want me to remember Daddie?" + +"Because," said Jan, "everything you seem to remember sounds so unkind." + +"Well, I can't help that," Tony answered. + +Jan arose from the seat. "If we sit idling here all afternoon," she +remarked severely, "we shall never get that border weeded for Earley." + +The afternoon post came in at four, and when Jan went in there were +several letters for her on the hall-table, spread out by Hannah in a +neat row, one above the other. It was Saturday, and the Indian mail was +in. There was one from Peter, but it was another letter that Jan seized +first, turning it over and looking at the post-mark, which was +remarkably clear. She knew the excellent handwriting well, though she +had seen it comparatively seldom. + +It was Hugo Tancred's; and the post-mark was Port Said. She opened it +with hands that trembled, and it said: + + "MY DEAR JAN, + + "In case other letters have miscarried, which is quite + possible while I was up country, let me assure you how + grateful I am for all you did for my poor wife and the + children--and for me in letting me know so faithfully what + your movements have been. I sent to the bank for your + letters while passing through Bombay recently, and but for + your kindness in allowing the money I had left for my + wife's use to remain to my credit, I should have been + unable to leave India, for things have gone sadly against + me, and the world is only too ready to turn its back upon a + broken man. + + "When I saw by the notice in the papers that my beloved + wife was no more, I realised that for me the lamp is + shattered and the light of my life extinguished. All that + remains to me is to make the best of my poor remnant of + existence for the sake of my children. + + "We will talk over plans when we meet. I hope to be in + England in about another month, perhaps sooner, and we will + consult together as to what is best to be done. + + "I have no doubt it will be possible to find a good and + cheap preparatory school where Tony can be safely bestowed + for the present, and one of my sisters would probably take + my precious little Fay, if you find it inconvenient to have + her with you. A boy is always better at school as soon as + possible, and I have strong views as to the best methods of + education. I never for a moment forget my responsibilities + towards my children and the necessity for a father's + supreme authority. + + "You may be sure that, in so far as you make it possible + for me to do so, I will fall in with your wishes regarding + them in every way. + + "It will not be worth your while writing to me here, as my + plans are uncertain. I will try to give you notice of my + arrival, but may reach you before my next letter. + + "Yours affectionately, + + "HUGO TANCRED." + +Still as a statue sat Jan. From the garden came the cheerful chirruping +of birds and constant, eager questioning of Earley by the children. +Earley's slow Gloucestershire speech rumbled on in muffled _obbligato_ +to the higher, carrying, little voices. + +The whirr of a sewing-machine came from the morning-room, now the +day-nursery, where Meg was busy with frocks for little Fay. + +In a distant pantry somebody was clinking teacups. Jan shivered, though +the air from the open window was only fresh, not cold. At that moment +she knew exactly how an animal feels when caught in a trap. Hugo +Tancred's letter was the trap, and she was in it. With the exception of +the lie about other letters--Jan was perfectly sure he had written no +other letters--and the stereotyped phrases about shattered lamps and the +wife who was "no more," the letter was one long menace--scarcely veiled. +That sentence, "in so far as you make it possible for me to do so, I +will fall in with your wishes regarding them in every way," simply meant +that if Jan was to keep the children she must let Hugo make ducks and +drakes of her money; and if he took her money, how could she do what she +ought for the children? + +And he was at Port Said; only a week's journey. + +Why had she left that money in Bombay? Why had she not listened to +Peter? Sometimes she had thought that Peter held rather a cynically low +view of his fellow-creatures--some of his fellow-creatures. Surely no +one could be all bad? Jan had hoped great things of adversity for Hugo +Tancred. Peter indulged in no such pleasant illusions, and said so. +"Schoolgirl sentimentality" Meg had called it, and so it was. "No doubt +it will be possible to find some cheap preparatory school for Tony." + +Would he try to steal Tony? + +From the charitable mood that hopeth all things Jan suddenly veered to a +belief in all things evil of her brother-in-law. At that moment she felt +him capable of murdering the child and throwing his little body down a +well, as they do in India. + +Again she shivered. + +What was she to do? + +So helpless, so unprotected; so absolutely at his mercy because she +loved the children. "Never let him blackmail you," Peter had said. +"Stand up to him always, and he'll probably crumple up." + +Suddenly, as though someone had opened shutters in a pitch-dark room, +letting in the blessed light, Jan remembered there was also a letter +from Peter. + +She crossed the hall to get it, though her legs shook under her and her +knees were as water. + +She felt she couldn't get back to the window-seat, so she sat on the +edge of the gate-table and opened the letter. + +A very short letter, only one side of a page. + + "DEAR MISS ROSS, + + "This is the last mail for a bit, for I come myself by the + next, the _Macedonia_. You may catch me at Aden, but + certainly a note will get me at Marseilles, if you are kind + enough to write. Tancred has been back in Bombay and gone + again in one of the smaller home-going boats. Where he got + the money to go I can't think, for from many sources lately + I've heard that his various ventures have been far from + prosperous, and no one will trust him with a rupee. + + "So look out for blackmail, and be firm, mind. + + "I go to my aunt in Artillery Mansions on arrival. When may + I run down to see you all? + + "Yours always sincerely, + + "PETER LEDGARD." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +"THOUGH AN HOST SHOULD ENCAMP AGAINST ME" + + +The flap of the gate-leg table creaked under Jan's weight, but she dug +her heels into the rug and balanced, for she felt incapable of moving. + +Peter was coming home; if the worst came to the worst he would deal with +Hugo, and a respite would be gained. But Peter would go out to India +again and Hugo would not. The whole miserable business would be +repeated--and how could she continue to worry Peter with her affairs? +What claim had she upon him? As though she were some stranger seeing it +for the first time, Jan looked round the square, comfortable hall. She +saw it with new eyes sharpened by apprehension; yet everything was +solidly the same. + +The floor with its draught-board pattern of large, square, black and +white stones; the old dark chairs; the high bookcases at each side of +the hearth; the wide staircase with its spacious, windowed turning and +shallow steps, so easily traversed by little feet; the whole steeped in +that atmosphere of friendly comfort that kind old houses get and keep. + +Such a good place to be young in. + +Such a happy place, so safe and sheltered and pleasant. + +Outside the window a wren was calling to his mate with a note that +sounded just like a faint kiss; such a tender little song. + +The swing door was opened noisily and Anne Chitt appeared bearing the +nursery tea-tray, deposited it in the nursery, opened the front door, +thumped on the gong and vanished again. Meg came out from the nursery +with two pairs of small slippers in her hand: "Where are my children? I +left little Fay with Earley while I finished the overalls; he's a most +efficient under-nurse--I suppose you left Tony with him too. Such a lot +of letters for you. Did you get your mail? I heard from both the boys. +Ah, sensible Earley's taking them round to the back door. Where's +William's duster? Hannah does make such a fuss about paw-marks." And +Meg, too, vanished through the swing door. + +Slowly Jan dragged herself off the table, gathered up her unread +letters, and went into the nursery. She felt as though she were +dreadfully asleep and couldn't awake to realise the wholesome everyday +world around her. + +Vaguely she stared round the room, the most charming room in Wren's End. +Panelled in wood long since painted white, with two delightful rounded +corner cupboards, it gave straight on to the wrens' sunk lawn from a big +French window with steps, an anachronism added by Miss Janet Ross. Five +years ago Anthony had brought a beautiful iron gate from Venice that +fitted into the archway, cut through the yew hedge and leading to the +drive. Jan had given this room to the children because in summer they +could spend the whole day in its green-walled garden, quite safe and +shut in from every possibility of mischief. A sun-dial was in the +centre, and in one corner a fat stone cherub upheld a bath for the +birds. Daffodils were in bloom on the banks, and one small single tulip +of brilliant red. Jan went out and stood on the top step. + +Long immunity from menace of any kind had made all sorts of little birds +extraordinarily bold and friendly. Even the usually shy and furtive +golden-crested wrens fussed in and out under the yew hedge quite +regardless of Jan. + +Through an open window overhead came the sound of cheerful high voices, +and little Fay started to sing at the top of her strong treble: + + Thlee mice went into a hole to spin, + Puss came by, and puss peeped in; + What are you doing, my littoo old men? + We're weaving coats for gentoomen. + +"Is that what I've been doing?" thought Jan. "Weaving coats of many +colours out of happy dreams?" Were she and the children the mice, she +wondered. + +Marauding cats had been kept away from Wren's End for over a hundred +years. "The little wrens that build" had been safe enough. But what of +these poor human nestlings? + +"Shall I come and help loo to wind up loo thleds?" sang little Fay. "Oh, +no, Missis Pussy, you'd bite off our heads!" And Tony joined in with a +shout: "Oh, no, Missis Pussy, you'd bite off our heads." + +The voices died away, the children were coming downstairs. + +Jan drank three cups of tea and crumbled one piece of bread and butter +on her plate. The rest of the party were hungry and full of adventures. +Before she joined Earley little Fay had been to the village with Meg to +buy tape, and she had a great deal to say about this expedition. Meg saw +that something was troubling Jan, and wondered if Mr. Ledgard had given +her fresh news of Hugo. But Meg never asked questions or worried people. +She chattered to the children, and immediately after tea carried them +off for the usual washing of hands. + +Jan went out into the hall; the door was open and the sunny spring +evening called to her. When she was miserable she always wanted to walk, +and she walked now; swiftly down the drive she went and out along the +road till she came to the church, which stood at the end of the village +nearest to Wren's End. + +She turned into the churchyard, and up the broad pathway between the +graves to the west door. + +Near the door was a square headstone marking the grave of Charles +Considine Smith; and she paused beside it to read once more the somewhat +strange inscription. + +Under his name and age, cut deep in the moss-grown stone, were the +words: "_Though an host should encamp against me, my heart shall not +fear._" + +Often before Jan had wondered what could have caused Tranquil, his wife, +to choose so strenuous an epitaph. Tranquil, who had never stirred +twenty miles from the place where she was born; whose very name, so far +as they could gather, exemplified her life. + +What secret menace had threatened this "staid person," this prosperous +shipper of sherry who, apparently, had spent the evening of his life in +observing the habits of wrens. + +Why should his gentle wife have thus commemorated his fighting spirit? + +Be the reason what it might, Jan felt vaguely comforted. There was +triumph as well as trust in the words. Whatever it was that had +threatened him, he had stood up to it. His wife knew this and was proud. + +Jan tried the heavy oak door and it yielded, and from the soft mildness +of the spring evening, so full of happy sounds of innocent life, she +passed into the grey and sacred silence of the church. + +It was cold in the beautiful old fourteenth-century church, with that +pervading smell of badly-burning wood that is so often found in country +churches till all attempt at heating ceases for the summer. But nothing +could mar the nobility of its austerely lovely architecture; the +indefinable, exquisite grace that soothes and penetrates. + +She went and knelt in the Wren's End pew where Charles Considine Smith's +vast prayer-book still stood on the book-board. And even as in the +Bombay Cathedral she had prayed that strength might be given to her to +walk in the Way, so now she prayed for courage and a quiet, steadfast +mind. + +Her head was bowed and buried in her hands: "_My heart shall not +fear_," she whispered; but she knew that it did fear, and fear +grievously. + +The tense silence was broken by an odd, fitful, pattering sound; but +Jan, absorbed in her petition for the courage she could not feel, heard +nothing. + +Something clumsy, warm, and panting pushed against her, and she +uncovered her face and looked down upon William trying to thrust his +head under her arm and join in her devotions. + +And William became a misty blur, for her eyes filled with tears; he +looked so anxious and foolish and kind with his tongue hanging out and +his absurd, puzzled expression. + +He was puzzled. Part of the usual ritual had been omitted. + +She ought, by all known precedents, to have put her arm round his neck +and have admonished him to "pray for his Master." But she did nothing of +the kind, only patted him, with no sort of invitation to join in her +orisons. + +William was sure something was wrong somewhere. + +Then Jan saw Tony sitting at the far end of the seat, hatless, coatless, +in his indoor strap shoes; and he was regarding her with grave, +understanding eyes. + +In a moment she was back in the present and vividly alive to the fact +that here was chilly, delicate Tony out after tea, without a coat and +sitting in an ice-cold church. + +She rose from her knees, much to William's satisfaction, who did not +care for religious services in which he might not take an active part. +He trotted out of the pew and Jan followed him, stooping to kiss Tony as +she passed. + +"It's too cold for you here, dear," she whispered; "let us come out." + +She held out her hand and Tony took it, and together they passed down +the aisle and into the warmer air outside. + +"How did you know I was here?" she asked, as they hurried into the road. + +"I saw you going down the drive from the bathroom window, and so I +runned after you, and William came too." + +"But what made you come after me?" + +"Because I thought you looked frightened, and I didn't like it; you +looked like Mummy did sometimes." + +No one who has seen fear stamped upon a woman's face ever forgets it. +Tony had watched his aunt all tea-time, and this quite new expression +troubled him. Mummy had always seemed to want him when she looked like +that; perhaps Auntie Jan would want him too. The moment his hands were +dried he had rushed past Meg and down the stairs with William in his +wake. Meg had not tried to stop him, for she, too, realised that +something worried Jan, and she knew that already there had arisen an +almost unconscious _entente_ between these two. But she had no idea that +he had gone out of doors. She dressed little Fay and took her out to the +garden, thinking that Tony and Jan were probably in the nursery, and she +was careful not to disturb them. + +"Are you cold, Tony?" Jan asked anxiously, walking so fast that Tony +had almost to run to keep up with her. + +"No, not very; it's a nice coldness rather, don't you think?" + +"Tony, will you tell me--when Daddie was angry with you, were you never +frightened?" + +Tony pulled at her hand to make her go more slowly. "Yes," he said, "I +used to feel frightened inside, but I wouldn't let him know it, and +then--it was funny--but quite sunn'ly I wasn't frightened any more. You +try it." + +"You mean," Jan asked earnestly, "that if you don't let anyone else know +you are frightened, you cease to be frightened?" + +"Something like that," Tony said; "it just happens." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +MEG AND CAPTAIN MIDDLETON + + +Meg had worked hard and faithfully ever since Ayah left. Very soon after +she took over the children entirely she discovered that, however naughty +and tiresome they were in many respects, they were quick-witted and +easily interested. And she decided there and then that to keep them good +she must keep them well amused, and it acted like a charm. + +She had the somewhat rare power of surrounding quite ordinary everyday +proceedings with a halo of romance, so that the children's day developed +into a series of entrancing adventures. + +With Meg, enthusiastic make-believe had never wholly given place to +common sense. Throughout the long, hard days of her childhood and early +apprenticeship to a rather unkindly world she had pretended joyously, +and invented for herself all sorts of imaginary pleasures to take the +place of those tangible ones denied to her. She had kept the width and +wistfulness of the child's horizon with a good deal of the child's +finality and love of detail; so that she was as responsive to the drama +of common things as the children themselves. + +Thus it came about that the daily donning of the uniform was in very +truth symbolic and inspiring; and once the muslin cap was adjusted, she +felt herself magically surrounded by the atmosphere most conducive to +the production of the Perfect Nurse. + +For Tony and little Fay getting up and going to bed resolved themselves +into feats of delicious dexterity that custom could not stale. The +underneaths of tables were caves and dungeons, chairs became chariots at +will, and every night little Fay waved a diminutive pocket-handkerchief +to Tony from the deck of an ocean-going P. and O. + +The daily walks, especially since they came to Wren's End, were filled +with hopeful possibilities. And to hunt for eggs with Mrs. Earley, or +gather vegetables with her son, partook of the nature of a high and +solemn quest. It was here Meg showed real genius. She drew all the +household into her net of interest. The children poked their busy +fingers into everybody's pies, and even stern Hannah was compelled, +quite unconsciously, to contribute her share in the opulent happiness of +their little world. + +But it took it out of Meg. + +For weeks she had been on the alert to prevent storms and tempests. Now +that the children's barometer seemed at "set fair" she suddenly felt +very tired. + +Jan had been watching her, and on that particular Sunday, had she been +able to catch Meg before she got up, Jan would have dressed the children +and kept her in bed. But Meg was too nimble for her, washed and dressed +her charges, and appeared at breakfast looking a "wispy wraith." + +She had slept badly; a habit formed in her under-nourished youth which +she found hard to break; and she had, in consequence, been sitting up in +bed at five in the morning to make buttonholes in garden smocks for +Tony. + +This would have enraged Jan had she but known it. But Meg, frank and +honest as the day in most things, was, at times, curiously secretive; +and so far had entirely eluded Jan's vigilance. By the time Anne Chitt +came with the awakening tea there wasn't a vestige of smock, needles, or +cotton to be seen, and so far lynx-eyed little Fay had never awoke in +time to catch her at it. + +This morning, however, Jan exerted her authority. She slung the hammock +between two trees in the sunniest part of the garden; she wrapped Meg in +her own fur coat, which was far too big for Meg; covered her with a +particularly soft, warm rug, gave her a book, a sun-umbrella, and her +cigarette case; and forbade her to move till lunch-time unless it +rained. + +Then she took the two children and William into Squire Walcote's woods +for the morning and Meg fell fast asleep. + +Warm with the double glow that came from being wrapped in Jan's coat +because Jan loved her; lulled by the songs of birds and a soft, shy wind +that ruffled the short hair about her forehead, little Meg was supremely +happy. To be tired, to be made to rest, to be kissed and tucked in and +sternly commanded to stay where she was till she was fetched--all this, +so commonplace to cherished, cared-for folk, seemed quite wonderful to +Meg, and she snuggled down among the cushions in blissful content. + +Meanwhile, on that same Sunday morning, Captain Middleton, at Amber +Guiting Manor, was trying to screw his courage up to the announcement +that he did not intend to accompany his aunt and uncle to church. Lady +Mary Walcote was his mother's only sister, and Mrs. Walcote, wife of +Jan's tenant, was one of his father's, so that he spoke quite truly when +he told Meg he had "stacks of relations down at Amber Guiting." + +Colonel Walcote was much better off than his elder brother, the squire +of Amber Guiting, for he benefited by the Middleton money. + +Miles Middleton's father was the originator of "Middleton's Made +Starch," which was used everywhere and was supposed to be superior to +all other starches. Why "Made" scoffers could never understand, for it +required precisely the same treatment as other starches. But the British +Public believed in it, the British Public also bought it in large +quantities, and George Middleton, son of Mutton-Pie Middleton, a +well-to-do confectioner in Doncaster, became an exceedingly rich man. He +did not marry till he was forty, and then he married "family," for Lady +Agnes Keills, younger daughter of Lord Glencarse, had a long pedigree +and no dower at all. She was a good wife to him, gentle, upright, and +always affectionate. She adored their only child, Miles, and died quite +suddenly from heart failure, just after that cheerful youth had joined +at Woolwich. George Middleton died some three years later, leaving his +money absolutely to his son, who came of age at twenty-five. And, so +far, Miles had justified his father's faith in him, for he had never +done anything very foolish, and a certain strain of Yorkshire shrewdness +prevented him from committing any wild extravagance. + +He was generous, kindly, and keen on his profession, and he had reached +the age of thirty-two without ever having felt any overwhelming desire +to marry; though it was pretty well known that considerable efforts to +marry him suitably had been made by both mothers and daughters. + +The beautiful and level-headed young ladies of musical comedy had failed +to land this considerable fish, angled they never so skilfully; though +he frankly enjoyed their amusing society and was quite liberal, though +not lavish, in the way of presents. + +Young women of his own rank were pleasant to him, their mothers cordial, +and no difficulty was ever put in the way of his enjoying their society. +But he was not very susceptible. Deep in his heart, in some dim, +unacknowledged corner, there lay a humble, homely desire that he might +_feel_ a great deal more strongly than he had felt yet, when the time +and the woman came to him. + +Never, until Meg smiled at him when he offered to carry little Fay up +that long staircase, had the thought of a girl thoroughly obsessed him; +and it is possible that even after their meetings in Kensington Gardens +her image might gradually have faded from his mind, had it not occurred +to Mrs. Trent to interfere. + +He had seen a good deal of the Trents while hunting with the Pytchley +two winters ago. Lotty was a fearless rider and what men called "a real +good sort." At one time it had sometimes crossed Captain Middleton's +mind that Lotty wouldn't make half a bad wife for a Horse Gunner, but +somehow it had always stopped at the idea, and when he didn't see Lotty +he never thought about her at all. + +Now that he no longer saw Meg he thought about her all day and far into +the night. His sensations were so new, so disturbing and unpleasant, his +life was so disorganised and upset, that he asked himself in varying +degrees of ever-accumulating irritation: "What the deuce was the +matter?" + +Then Mrs. Trent asked him to luncheon. + +She was staying with her daughters at the Kensington Palace Hotel, and +they had a suite of rooms. Lotty and her sister flew away before coffee +was served, as they were going to a _matine_, and Miles was left +_tte--tte_ with Mrs. Trent. + +She was most motherly and kind. + +Just as he was wondering whether he might now decently take leave of +her, she said: "Captain Middleton, I'm going to take a great liberty and +venture to say something to you that perhaps you will resent ... but I +feel I must do it because your mother was such a dear friend of mine." + +This was a piece of information for Miles, who knew perfectly well that +Lady Agnes Middleton's acquaintance with Mrs. Trent had been of the +slightest. However, he bowed and looked expectant. + +"I saw you the other day walking with Miss Morton in Kensington Gardens; +apparently she is now in charge of somebody's children. May I ask if you +have known her long?" + +Mrs. Trent looked searchingly at Miles, and there was an inflection on +the "long" that he felt was in some way insulting to Meg, and he +stiffened all over. + +"Before I answer that question, Mrs. Trent, may I ask why you should +want to know?" + +"My dear boy, I see perfectly well that it must seem impertinent +curiosity on my part. But I assure you my motive for asking is quite +justifiable. Will you try not to feel irritated and believe that what I +am doing, I am doing for the best?" + +"I have not known Miss Morton very long; why?" + +"Do you know the people she is living with at present?" + +Again that curious inflection on the "present." + +"Oh, yes, and so do my people; they think all the world of her." + +"Of Miss Morton?" Shocked astonishment was in Mrs. Trent's voice. + +"I was not speaking of Miss Morton just then, but of the lady she is +with. I've no doubt, though," said Miles stoutly, "they'd think just +the same of Miss Morton if they knew her. They may know her, too; it's +just a chance we've never discussed her." + +"It is very difficult and painful for me to say what I have got to say +... but if Miss Morton is in charge of the children of a friend of your +family, I think you ought to know she is not a suitable person to be +anything of the kind." + +"I say!" Miles exclaimed, "that's a pretty stiff thing to say about any +girl; a dangerous thing to say; especially about one who seems to need +to earn her own living." + +"I know it is; I hate to say it ... but it seemed to me the other day--I +hope I was mistaken--that you were rather ... attracted, and knowing +what I do I felt I must speak, must warn you." + +Miles got up. He seemed to tower above the table and dwarf the whole +room. "I'd rather not hear any more, Mrs. Trent, please. It seems too +beastly mean somehow for me to sit here and listen to scandal about a +poor little unprotected girl who works hard and faithfully--mind you, +I've seen her with those children, and she's perfectly wonderful. Don't +you see yourself how I can't _do_ it?" + +Mrs. Trent sat on where she was and smiled at Miles, slowly shaking her +head. "Sit down, my dear boy. Your feelings do you credit; but we +mustn't be sentimental, and facts are facts. I have every reason to know +what I'm talking about, for some years ago Miss Morton was in my +service." + +Miles did not sit down. He stood where he was, glowering down at Mrs. +Trent. + +"That doesn't brand her, does it?" he asked. + +Still smiling maternally at him, Mrs. Trent continued: "She left my +service when she ran away with Mr. Walter Brooke--you know him, I think? +Disgraceful though it was, I must say this of him, that he never made +any concealment of the fact that he was a married man. She did it with +her eyes open." + +"If," Miles growled, "all this happened 'some years ago' she must have +been about twelve at the time, and Brooke ought to have been hounded out +of society long ago." + +"I needn't say that _we_ have cut him ever since. She was, I believe, +about nineteen at the time. She did not remain with him, but you can +understand that, naturally, I don't want _you_ to get entangled with a +girl of that sort." + +Miles picked up his hat and stick. "I wish you hadn't told me," he +groaned. "I don't think a bit less highly of her, but you've made _me_ +feel such a low-down brute, I can't bear it. Good-bye--I've no doubt you +did it for the best ... but----" And Miles fairly ran from the room. + +Mrs. Trent drummed with her fingers on the table and looked thoughtful. +"It was quite time somebody interfered," she reflected. And then she +remembered with annoyance that she had not found out the name of Meg's +employer. + +Miles strode through Kensington Gore and past Knightsbridge, when he +turned down Sloane Street till he came to a fencing school he +frequented. Here he went in and had a strenuous half-hour with the +instructor, but nothing served to restore his peace of mind. He was +angry and hurt and horribly worried. If it was true, if the whole +miserable story was true, then he knew that something had been taken +from him. Something he had cherished in that dim, secret corner of his +heart. Its truth or untruth did not affect his feeling for Meg. But if +it were true, then he had irretrievably lost something intangible, yet +precious. Young men like Miles never mention ideals, but that's not to +say that in some very hidden place they don't exist, like buried +treasure. + +All the shrewd Yorkshire strain in him shouted that he must set this +doubt at rest. That whatever was to be his action in the future he must +know and face the truth. All the delicacy, the fine feeling, the +sensitiveness he got from his mother, made him loathe any investigation +of the kind, and his racial instincts battled together and made him very +miserable indeed. + +When he left the fencing school, he turned into Hyde Park. The Row was +beginning to fill, and suddenly he came upon his second cousin, Lady +Penelope Pottinger, sitting all alone on a green chair with another +empty one beside it. Miles dropped into the empty chair. He liked Lady +Pen. She was always downright and sometimes very amusing. Moreover she +took an intelligent interest in dogs, and knew Amber Guiting and its +inhabitants. So Miles dexterously led the conversation round to Jan and +Wren's End. + +Lady Pen was looking very beautiful that afternoon. She wore a +broad-leaved hat which did not wholly conceal her glorious hair. Hair +the same colour as certain short feathery rings that framed a pale, +pathetic little face that haunted him. + +"Talking of Amber Guiting," he said, "did you ever come across a Miss +Morton down there? A friend of Miss Ross." + +Lady Pen turned and looked hard at him. "Oh dear, yes; she's rather a +pal of mine. I knew her long before I met her at the Ross's. Why, I knew +her when she was companion at the Trents, poor little devil." + +"Did she have a bad time there? Weren't they nice to her?" + +"At first they were nice enough, but afterwards it was rotten. Clever +little thing she is, but poor as a rat. What do you know about her?" + +Again Lady Pen looked hard at Miles. She was wondering whether Meg had +ever given away the reason for that short hair of hers. + +"Oh, I've met her just casually, you know, with Miss Ross. She strikes +me as a ... rather unusual sort of girl." + +"Ever mention me?" + +"No, never that I can remember. I haven't seen much of her, you know." + +"Well, my son, the less you see of her the better, for her, I should +say. She's a clever, industrious, good little thing, but she's not in +your row. After all, these workin' girls have their feelin's." + +"I don't fancy Miss Morton is at all the susceptible idiot you appear +to think her. It's other people's feelings I should be afraid of, not +hers." + +"Oh, I grant you she's attractive enough to some folks. Artists, for +instance, rave over her. At least, Anthony Ross did. Queer chap, that; +would never paint me. Now can you understand any man in his senses +refusin' to paint me?" + +"It seems odd, certainly." + +"He painted her, for nothin' of course, over an' over again ... just +because he liked doin' it. Odd chap he was, but very takin'. You +couldn't dislike him, even when he refused to paint you. Awful swank +though, wasn't it?" + +"Were his pictures of Miss Morton--sold?" + +"Some were, I believe; but Janet Ross has got a lot of 'em down at +Wren's End. She always puts away most of her father's paintin's when she +lets the house. But you take my advice, Miley, my son: you keep clear of +that little girl." + +This was on Thursday, and, of course, after two warnings in one +afternoon, Miles went down to Amber Guiting on Saturday night. + +"Aunt Mary, it's such a lovely morning, should you mind very much if I +go for a stroll in the woods--or slack about in the fresh air, instead +of going to church?" + +At the word "stroll" he had seen an interested expression lighten up +Squire Walcote's face, and the last thing he wanted was his uncle's +society for the whole morning. + +"I don't feel up to much exercise," Miles went on, trying to look +exhausted and failing egregiously. "I've had rather a hard week in town. +I'll give the vicar a turn in the evening, I will truly." + +Lady Mary smiled indulgently on this large young man, who certainly +looked far from delicate. But only a hard-hearted woman could have +pointed this out at such a moment, and where her nephew was concerned +Lady Mary's heart was all kindly affection. So she let him off church. + +Miles carried out a pile of books to a seat in the garden and appeared +to be settled down to a studious morning. He waved a languid hand to his +aunt and uncle as they started for church, and the moment they were out +of sight laid down his book and clasped his hands behind his head. + +The vicar of Amber Guiting was a family man and merciful. The school +children all creaked and pattered out of church after morning prayer, +and any other small people in the congregation were encouraged to do +likewise, the well-filled vicarage pew setting the example. Therefore, +Miles reckoned, that even supposing Miss Morton took the little boy to +church (he couldn't conceive of anyone having the temerity to escort +little Fay thither), they would come out in about three-quarters of an +hour after the bell stopped. But he had no intention of waiting for +that. The moment the bell ceased he--unaccompanied by any of the dogs +grouped about him at that moment--was going to investigate the Wren's +End garden. He knew every corner of it, and he intended to unearth Meg +and the children if they were to be found. + +Besides, he ardently desired to see William. + +William was a lawful pretext. No one could see anything odd in his +calling at Wren's End to see William. It was a perfectly natural thing +to do. + +Confound Mrs. Trent. + +Confound Pen, what did she want to interfere for? + +Confound that bell. Would it never stop? + +Yes it had. No it hadn't. Yes ... it had. + +Give a few more minutes for laggards, and then---- + +Three melancholy and disappointed dogs were left in the Manor Garden, +while Miles swung down the drive, past the church, and into the road +that led to Wren's End. + +What a morning it was! + +The whole world seemed to have put on its Sunday frock. There had been +rain in the night, and the air was full of the delicious fresh-washed +smell of spring herbage. Wren's End seemed wonderfully quiet and +deserted as Miles turned into the drive. As he neared the house he +paused and listened, but there was no sound of high little voices +anywhere. + +Were they at church, then? + +They couldn't be indoors on such a beautiful day. + +Miles whistled softly, knowing that if William were anywhere within +hearing, that would bring him at the double. + +But no joyfully galumphing William appeared to welcome him. + +He had no intention of ringing to inquire. No, he'd take a good look +round first, before he went back to hang about outside the church. + +It was pleasant in the Wren's End garden. + +Presently he went down the broad central path of the walled garden, with +borders of flowers and beds of vegetables. Half-way down, in the +sunniest, warmest place, he came upon a hammock slung between an +apple-tree not quite out and a pear-tree that was nearly over, and a +voice from the hammock called sleepily: "Is that you, Earley? I wish +you'd pick up my cigarette case for me; it's fallen into the lavender +bush just below." + +"Yes, Miss," a voice answered that was certainly not Earley's. + +Meg leaned out of the hammock to look behind her. + +"Hullo!" she said. "Why are you not in church? I can't get up because +I'm a prisoner on _parole_. Short of a thunderstorm nothing is to move +me from this hammock till Miss Ross comes back." + +Miles stood in the pathway looking down at the muffled figure in the +hammock. There was little to be seen of Meg save her rumpled, hatless +head. She was much too economical of her precious caps to waste one in a +hammock. She had slept for nearly two hours, then Hannah roused her with +a cup of soup. She was drowsy and warm and comfortable, and her usually +pale cheeks were almost as pink as the apple-blossom buds above her +head. + +"Do you want to sleep? Or may I stop and talk to you a bit?" Miles +asked, when he had found the somewhat battered cigarette case and +restored it to her. + +"As I'm very plainly off duty, I suppose you may stay and talk--if I +fall asleep in the middle you must not be offended. You'll find plenty +of chairs in the tool house." + +When Miles returned Meg had lit her cigarette, and he begged a light +from her. + +What little hands she had! How fine-grained and delicate her skin! + +Again he felt that queer lump in his throat at the absurd, sweet pathos +of her. + +He placed his chair where he had her full in view, not too near, yet +comfortably so for conversation. Jan had swung the hammock very high, +and Meg looked down at Miles over the edge. + +"It is unusual," she said, "to find a competent nurse spending her +morning in this fashion, but if you know Miss Ross at all, you will +already have realised that under her placid exterior she has a will of +iron." + +"I shouldn't say _you_ were lacking in determination." + +"Oh, I'm nothing to Jan. _She_ exerts physical force. Look at me perched +up here! How can I get down without a bad fall, swathed like a mummy in +wraps; while my employer does my work?" + +"But you don't want to get down. You look awfully comfortable." + +"I am awfully comfortable--but it's most ... unprofessional--please +don't tell anybody else." + +Meg closed her eyes, looking rather like a sleepy kitten, and Miles +watched her in silence with a pain at his heart. Something kept saying +over and over again: "Six years ago that girl there ran off with Walter +Brooke. Six years ago that apparently level-headed, sensible little +person was dazzled by the pinchbeck graces of that epicure in +sensations." Miles fully granted his charm, his gentle melancholy, his +caressing manner; but with it all Miles felt that he was so plainly "a +wrong-'un," so clearly second-rate and untrustworthy--and a nice girl +ought to recognise these things intuitively. + +Miles looked very sad and grave, and Meg, suddenly opening her eyes, +found him regarding her with this incomprehensible expression. + +"You are not exactly talkative," she said. + +"I thought, perhaps, you wanted to rest, and would rather not talk. +Maybe I'm a bit of a bore, and you'd rather I went away?" + +"You have not yet asked after William." + +"I hoped to find William, but he's nowhere to be seen." + +"He's with Jan and the children. I think"--here Meg lifted her curly +head over the edge of the hammock--"he is the very darlingest animal in +the world. I love William." + +"You do! I knew you would." + +"I do. He's so faithful and kind and understanding." + +"Has he been quite good?" + +"Well ... once or twice he may have been a little--destructive--but you +expect that with children." + +"I hope you punish him." + +"Jan does. Jan has a most effectual slap, but there's always a dreadful +disturbance with the children on these occasions. Little Fay roars the +house down when William has to be chastised." + +"What has he done?" + +"I'm not going to tell tales of William." + +Miles and Meg smiled at one another, and Walter Brooke faded from his +mind. + +"Perhaps," he said, and paused, "you will by and by allow to William's +late master a small portion of that regard?" + +"If William's master on further acquaintance proves half as loyal and +trustworthy as William--I couldn't help it." + +"I wonder what you mean exactly by loyal and trustworthy?" + +"They're not very elastic terms, are they?" + +"Don't you think they mean rather the same thing?" + +"Not a bit," Meg cried eagerly; "a person might be ever so trustworthy +and yet not loyal. I take it that trustworthy and honest in tangible +things are much the same. Loyalty is something intangible, and often +means belief in people when everything seems against them. It's a much +rarer quality than to be trustworthy. William would stick to one if one +hadn't a crust, just because he liked to be there to make things a bit +less wretched." + +Miles smoked in silence for a minute, and again Meg closed her eyes. + +"By the way," he said presently, "I didn't know you and my cousin Pen +were friends. I met her in the Park the day before yesterday. Her hair's +rather the same colour as yours--handsome woman, isn't she?" + +Meg opened her eyes and turned crimson. Had the outspoken Lady Pen said +anything about her hair, she wondered. + +Miles, noting the sudden blush, put it down to Lady Pen's knowledge of +what had happened at the Trents, and the miserable feelings of doubt and +apprehension came surging back. + +"She's quite lovely," said Meg. + +"A bit too much on the big side, don't you think?" + +"I admire big women." + +Silence fell again. Meg pulled the rug up under her chin. + +Surely it was not quite so warm as a few minutes ago. + +Miles stood up. "I have a guilty feeling that Miss Ross will strongly +disapprove of my disturbing you like this. If you will tell me which way +they have gone I will go and meet them." + +"They've gone to your uncle's woods, and I think they must be on their +way home by now. If you call William he'll answer." + +"I won't say good-bye," said Miles, "because I shall come back with +them." + +"I shall be on duty then," said Meg. "Good-bye." + +She turned her face from him and nestled down among her cushions. For a +full minute he stood staring at the back of her head, with its crushed +and tumbled tangle of short curls. + +Then quite silently he took his way out of the Wren's End garden. + +Meg shut her eyes very tight. Was it the light that made them smart so? + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE YOUNG IDEA + + +Squire Walcote had given the Wren's End family the run of his woods, +and, what was even more precious, permission to use the river-path +through his grounds. Lady Mary, who had no children of her own, was +immensely interested in Tony and little Fay, and would give Jan more +advice as to their management in an hour than the vicar's wife ever +offered during the whole of their acquaintance. But then _she_ had a +family of eight. + +But the first time Tony went to the river Jan took him alone; and not to +the near water in Squire Walcote's grounds, but to the old bridge that +crossed the Amber some way out of the village. It was the typical +Cotswold bridge, with low parapets that make such a comfortable seat for +meditative villagers. Just before they reached it she loosed Tony's +hand, and held her breath to see what he would do. Would he run straight +across to get to the other side, or would he look over? + +Yes. He went straight to the low wall; stopped, looked over, leaned +over, and stared and stared. + +Jan gave a sigh of relief. + +The water of the Amber just there is deep and clear, an infinite thing +for a child to look down into; but it was not of that Jan was thinking. + +Hugo was no fisherman. Water had no attraction for him, save as a +pleasant means of taking exercise. He was a fair oar; but for a stream +that wouldn't float a boat he cared nothing at all. + +Charles Considine Smith had angled diligently. In fact, he wrote almost +as much about the habits of trout as about wrens. James Ross, the +gallant who carried off the second Tranquil, had been fishing at Amber +Guiting when he first saw her. Anthony's father fished and so did +Anthony; and Jan, herself, could throw a fly quite prettily. Yet, your +true fisherman is born, not made; it is not a question of environment, +but it is, very often, one of heredity; for the tendency comes out when, +apparently, every adverse circumstance has combined to crush it. + +And no mortal who cares for or is going to care for fishing can ever +cross a bridge without stopping to look down into the water. + +"There's a fish swimming down there," Tony whispered (was it instinct +made him whisper? Jan wondered), "brown and speckledy, rather like the +thrushes in the garden." + +Jan clutched nervously at the little coat while Tony hung over so far +that only his toes were on the ground. She had brought a bit of bread in +her pocket, and let him throw bits to the greedy, wily old trout who had +defied a hundred skilful rods. On that first day old Amber whispered her +secret to Tony and secured another slave. + +For Jan it was only another proof that Tony possessed a sterling +character. Since her sister's disastrous marriage she had come to look +upon a taste for fishing as more or less of a moral safeguard. She had +often reflected that if only Fay had not been so lukewarm with regard to +the gentle craft--and so bored in a heavenly place where, if it did rain +for twenty-three of the twenty-four hours, even a second-rate rod might +land fourteen or fifteen pounds of good sea-trout in an afternoon--she +could never have fallen in love with Hugo Tancred, who was equally +without enthusiasm and equally bored till he met Fay. Jan was ready +enough now to blame herself for her absorption at this time, and would +remember guiltily the relief with which she and her father greeted Fay's +sudden willingness to remain a week longer in a place she previously had +declared to be absolutely unendurable. + +The first time Tony's sister went to Amber Bridge Meg took them both. +Little Fay descended from her pram just before they reached it, +declaring it was a "nice dly place to walk." She ran on a little ahead, +and before Meg realised what she was doing, she had scrambled up on to +the top of the low wall and run briskly along it till her progress was +stopped by a man who was leaning over immersed in thought. He nearly +fell in himself, when a clear little voice inquired, "Do loo mind if I +climb over loo?" + +It was Farmer Burgess, and he clasped the tripping lady of the white +woolly gaiters in a pair of strong arms, and lifted her down just as the +terrified Meg reached them. + +"Law, Missie!" gasped Mr. Burgess, "you mustn't do the like o' that +there. It's downright fool'ardy." + +"Downlight foolardy," echoed little Fay. "And what nelse?" + +According to Mr. Burgess it was dangerous and a great many other things +as well, but he lost his heart to her in that moment, and she could +twist him round her little finger ever after. + +To be told that a thing was dangerous was to add to its attractions. She +was absolutely without fear, and could climb like a kitten. She hadn't +been at Wren's End a week before she was discovered half-way up the +staircase on the outside of the banisters. And when she had been caught +and lifted over by a white-faced aunt, explained that it was "muts the +most instasting way of going up tairs." + +When asked how she expected to get to the other side at the top, she +giggled derisively and said "ovel." + +Jan seriously considered a barbed-wire entanglement for the outside edge +of her staircase after that. + +While Meg rested in the hammock Jan spent a strenuous morning in Guiting +Woods with the children and William. Late windflowers were still in +bloom, and early bluebells made lovely atmospheric patches under the +trees, just as though a bit of the sky had fallen, as in the oft-told +tale of "Cockie Lockie." There were primroses, too, and white violets, +so that there were many little bunches with exceedingly short stalks to +be arranged and tied up with the worsted provident Auntie Jan had +brought with her; finally they all sat down on a rug lined with +mackintosh, and little Fay demanded "Clipture." + +"Clipture" was her form of "Scripture," which Auntie Jan "told" every +morning after breakfast to the children. Jan was a satisfactory +narrator, for the form of her stories never varied. The Bible stories +she told in the actual Bible words, and all children appreciate their +dramatic simplicity and directness. + +That morning Joseph and his early adventures and the baby Moses were the +favourites, and when these had been followed by "The Three Bears" and +"Cock Robin," it was time to collect the bouquets and go home. And on +the way home they met Captain Middleton. William spied him afar off, and +dashed towards him with joyful, deep-toned barks. He was delighted to +see William, said he had grown and was in the pink of condition; and +then announced that he had already been to Wren's End and had seen Miss +Morton. There was something in the tone of this avowal that made Jan +think. It was shy, it was proud, it seemed to challenge Jan to find any +fault in his having done so, and it was supremely self-conscious. He +walked back with them to the Wren's End gate, and then came a moment of +trial for William. + +He wanted to go with his master. + +He wanted to stay with the children. + +Captain Middleton settled it by shaking each offered paw and saying very +seriously: "You must stay and take care of the ladies, William. I trust +you." William looked wistfully after the tall figure that went down the +road with the queer, light, jumpetty tread of all men who ride much. + +Then he trotted after Jan and the children and was exuberantly glad to +see Meg again. + +She declared herself quite rested; heard that they had seen Captain +Middleton, and met unmoved the statement that he was coming to tea. + +But she didn't look nearly so well rested as Jan had hoped she would. + +After the children's dinner Meg went on duty, and Jan saw no more of the +nursery party till later in the afternoon. The creaking wheels of two +small wheelbarrows made Jan look up from the letters she was writing at +the knee-hole table that stood in the nursery window, and she beheld +little Fay and Tony, followed by Meg knitting busily, as they came +through the yew archway on to the lawn. + +Meg subsided into one of the white seats, but the children processed +solemnly round, pausing under Jan's window. + +"I know lots an' lots of Clipture," her niece's voice proclaimed proudly +as she sat down heavily in her wheelbarrow on the top of some garden +produce she had collected. + +"How much do you know?" Tony asked sceptically. + +"Oh, lots an' lots, all about poor little Jophez in the bullushes, and +his instasting dleams." + +"Twasn't Jophez," Tony corrected. "It was Mophez in the bulrushes, and +he didn't have no dreams. That was Jophez." + +"How d'you know," Fay persisted, "that poor little Mophez had no dleams? +Why _shouldn't_ he have dleams same as Jophez?" + +"It doesn't say so." + +"It doesn't say he _didn't_ have dleams. He _had_ dleams, I tell you; I +know he had. Muts nicer dleams van Jophez." + +"Let's ask Meg; she'll know." + +Jan gave a sigh of relief. The children had not noticed her, and Meg had +a fertile mind. + +The wheelbarrows were trundled across the lawn and paused in front of +Meg, while a lively duet demanded simultaneously: + + {"_Did_ little Mophez have dleams?" + {"_Didn't_ deah littoo Mophez have dleams?" + +When Meg had disentangled the questions and each child sat down in a +wheelbarrow at her feet, she remarked judicially: "Well, there's nothing +said about little Moses' dreams, certainly; but I should think it's +quite likely the poor baby did have dreams." + +"What sort of dleams? Nicer van sheaves and sings, wasn't they?" + +"I should think," Meg said thoughtfully, "that he dreamed he must cry +very quietly lest the Egyptians should hear him." + +"Deah littoo Mophez ... and what nelse?" + +Meg was tempted and fell. It was very easy for her to invent "dleams" +for "deah littoo Mophez" lying in his bulrush ark among the flags at the +river's edge. And, wholly regardless of geography, she transported him +to the Amber, where the flags were almost in bloom at that moment, such +local colour adding much to the realism of her stories. + +Presently William grew restless. He ran to Anthony's Venetian gate in +the yew hedge and squealed (William never whined) to get out. Tony let +him out, and he fled down the drive to meet his master, who had come a +good half-hour too soon for tea. + +Jan continued to try and finish her letters while Captain Middleton, +coatless, on all-fours, enacted an elephant which the children rode in +turn. When he had completely ruined the knees of his trousers he arose +and declared it was time to play "Here we go round the mulberry-bush," +and it so happened that once or twice he played it hand-in-hand with +Meg. + +Jan left her letters and went out. + +The situation puzzled her. She feared for Meg's peace of mind, for +Captain Middleton was undoubtedly attractive; and then she found herself +fearing for his. + +After tea and more games with the children Captain Middleton escorted +his hostess to church, where he joined his aunt in the Manor seat. + +During church Jan found herself wondering uneasily: + +"Was everybody going to fall in love with Meg?" + +"Would Peter?" + +"What a disagreeable idea!" + +And yet, why should it be? + +Resolutely she told herself that Peter was at perfect liberty to fall +in love with Meg if he liked, and set herself to listen intelligently to +the Vicar's sermon. + + * * * * * + +Meg started to put her children to bed, only to find that her fertility +of imagination in the afternoon was to prove her undoing in the evening; +for her memory was by no means as reliable as her powers of invention. + +Little Fay urgently demanded the whole cycle of little Mophez' dleams +over again. And for the life of her Meg couldn't remember them either in +their proper substance or sequence--and this in spite of the most +persistent prompting, and she failed utterly to reproduce the +entertainment of the afternoon. Both children were disappointed, but +little Fay, accustomed as she was to Auntie Jan's undeviating method of +narrating "Clipture," was angry as well. She fell into a passion of rage +and nearly screamed the house down. Since the night of Ayah's departure +there had not been such a scene. + +Poor Meg vowed (though she knew she would break her vow the very first +time she was tempted) that never again would she tamper with Holy Writ, +and for some weeks she coldly avoided both Jophez and Mophez as topics +of conversation. + +Meg could never resist playing at things, and what "Clipture" the +children learned from Jan in the morning they insisted on enacting with +Meg later in the day. + +Sometimes she was seized with misgiving as to the propriety of these +representations, but dismissed her doubts as cowardly. + +"After all," she explained to Jan, "we only play the very human bits. I +never let them pretend to be anybody divine ... and you know the +people--in the Old Testament, anyway--were most of them extremely human, +not to say disreputable at times." + +It is possible that "Clipture's" supreme attraction for the children was +that it conveyed the atmosphere of the familiar East. The New Testament +was more difficult to play at, but, being equally dramatic, the children +couldn't see it. + +"Can't we do one teeny miracle?" Tony would beseech, but Meg was firm; +she would have nothing to do with either miracles nor yet with angels. +Little Fay ardently desired to be an angel, but Meg wouldn't have it at +any price. + +"You're not in the least _like_ an angel, you know," she said severely. + +"What for?" + +"Because angels are _perfectly_ good." + +"I could _pletend_ to be puffectly good." + +"Let's play Johnny Baptist," suggested the ever-helpful Tony, "and we +could pittend to bring in his head on a charger." + +"Certainly not," Meg said hastily. "That would be a horrid game." + +"Let me be the daughter!" little Fay implored, "and dance in flont of +Helod." + +This was permitted, and Tony, decorated with William's chain, sat +gloomily scowling at the gyrations of "the daughter," who, assisted by +William, danced all over the nursery: and Meg, watching the +representation, decided that if the original "daughter" was half as +bewitching as this one, there really might have been some faint excuse +for Herod. + +Hannah had no idea of these goings-on, or she would have expected the +roof to fall in and crush them. Yet she, too, was included among the +children's prophets, owing to her exact and thorough knowledge of +"Clipture." Hannah's favourite part of the Bible was the Book of Daniel, +which she knew practically by heart; and her rendering of certain +chapters was--though she would have hotly resented the phrase--extremely +dramatic. + +It is so safe and satisfying to know that your favourite story will run +smoothly, clause for clause, and word for word, just as you like it +best, and the children were always sure of this with Hannah. + +Anne Chitt would listen open-mouthed in astonishment, exclaiming +afterwards, "Why, 'Annah, wot a tremenjous lot of Bible verses you 'ave +learned to be sure." + +The children once tried Anne Chitt as a storyteller, but she was a +failure. + +As she had been present at several of Hannah's recitals of the Three +Children and the burning fiery furnace, they thought it but a modest +demand upon her powers. But when--instead of beginning with the sonorous +"_Then an herald cried aloud, To you it is commanded, O people, nations +and languages_"--when she wholly omitted any reference to "_the sound of +cornet, flute, harp, sackbut, psaltery, and dulcimer_, and all kinds of +musick"--and essayed to tell the story in broad Gloucestershire and her +own bald words, the disappointed children fell upon her and thumped her +rudely upon the back; declaring her story to be "_kutcha_" and she, +herself, a _budmash_. Which, being interpreted, meant that her story was +most badly made and that she, herself, was a rascal. + +Anne Chitt was much offended, and complained tearfully to Jan that she +"wouldn't 'ave said nothin' if they'd called 'er or'nery names, but them +there Injian words was more than she could abear." + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +"ONE WAY OF LOVE" + + +Among the neighbours there was none more assiduous in the matter of +calls and other friendly manifestations than Mr. Huntly +Withells--emphasis on the "ells"--who lived at Guiting Grange, about a +couple of miles from Wren's End. Mr. Withells was settled at the Grange +some years before Miss Janet Ross left her house to Jan, and he was +already a person of importance and influence in that part of the county +when Anthony Ross and his daughters first spent a whole summer there. + +Mr. Withells proved most neighbourly. He had artistic leanings himself, +and possessed some good pictures; among them, one of Anthony's, which +naturally proved a bond of union. He did not even so much as sketch, +himself--which Anthony considered another point in his favour--but he +was a really skilled photographer, possessed the most elaborate cameras, +and obtained quite beautiful results. + +Since Jan's return from India he had completely won her heart by taking +a great many photographs of the children, pictures delightfully natural, +and finished as few amateurs contrive to present them. + +It was rumoured in Amber Guiting that Mr. Withells' views on the +subject of matrimony were "peculiar"; but all the ladies, especially the +elderly ladies, were unanimous in declaring that he had a "beautiful +mind." + +Mrs. Fream, the vicar's wife, timidly confided to Jan that Mr. Withells +had told her husband that he cared only for "spiritual marriage"-- +whatever that might be; and that, as yet, he had met no woman whom he +felt would see eye to eye with him on this question. "He doesn't approve +of caresses," she added. + +"Well, who wants to caress him?" Jan asked bluntly. + +Meg declared there was one thing she could not bear about Mr. Withells, +and that was the way he shook hands, "exactly as if he had no thumbs. If +he's so afraid of touching one as all that comes to, why doesn't he let +it alone?" + +Yet the apparently thumbless hands were constantly occupied in bearing +gifts of all kinds to his friends. + +In appearance he was dapper, smallish, without being undersized, always +immaculately neat in his attire, with a clean-shaven, serious, rather +sallow face, which was inclined to be chubby as to the cheeks. He wore +double-sighted pince-nez, and no mortal had ever seen him without them. +His favourite writer was Miss Jane Austen, and he deplored the +licentious tendency of so much modern literature; frequently, and with +flushed countenance, denouncing certain books as an "outrage." He was +considered a very well-read man. He disliked anything that was "not +quite nice," and detested a strong light, whether it were thrown upon +life or landscape; in bright sunshine he always carried a white umbrella +lined with green. The game he played best was croquet, and here he was +really first class; but he was also skilled in every known form of +Patience, and played each evening unless he happened to be dining out. + +As regards food he was something of a faddist, and on the subject of +fresh air almost a monomaniac. He declared that he could not exist for +ten minutes in a room with closed windows, and that the smell of apples +made him feel positively faint; moreover, he would mention his somewhat +numerous antipathies as though there were something peculiarly +meritorious in possessing so many. This made his entertainment at any +meal a matter of agitated consideration among the ladies of Amber +Guiting. + +Nevertheless, he kept an excellent and hospitable table himself, and in +no way forced his own taste upon others. He disliked the smell of +tobacco and hardly ever drank wine, yet he kept a stock of excellent +cigars and his cellar was beyond reproach. + +He had been observing Jan for several years, and was rapidly coming to +the conclusion that she was an "eminently sensible woman." Her grey hair +and the way she had managed everything for her father led him to believe +that she was many years older than her real age. Recently he had taken +to come to Wren's End on one pretext and another almost every day. He +was kind and pleasant to the children, who amused and pleased +him--especially little Fay; but he was much puzzled by Meg, whom he had +known in pre-cap-and-apron days while she was staying at Wren's End. + +He couldn't quite place Meg, and there was an occasional glint in her +queer eyes that he found disconcerting. He was never comfortable in her +society, for he objected to red hair almost as strongly as to a smell of +apples. + +He really liked the children, and since he knew he couldn't get Jan +without them he was beginning to think that in such a big house as the +Grange they would not necessarily be much in the way. He knew nothing +whatever about Hugo Tancred. + +Jan satisfied his fastidious requirements. She was dignified, graceful, +and, he considered, of admirable parts. He felt that in a very little +while he could imbue Jan with his own views as to the limitations and +delicate demarcations of such a marriage as he contemplated. + +She was so sensible. + +Meanwhile the object of these kind intentions was wholly unaware of +them. She was just then very much absorbed in her own affairs and +considerably worried about Meg's. For Captain Middleton's week-end was +repeated on the following Saturday and extended far into the next week. +He came constantly to Wren's End, where the children positively adored +him, and he seemed to possess an infallible instinct which led him to +the village whensoever Meg and her charges had business there. + +On such occasions Meg was often quite rude to Captain Middleton, but the +children and William more than atoned for her coldness by the warmth of +their welcome, and he attached himself to them. + +In fact, as regards the nursery party at Wren's End, Miles strongly +resembled William before a fire--you might drive him away ninety and +nine times, he always came thrusting back with the same expression of +deprecating astonishment that you could be other than delighted to see +him. + +Whither was it all tending? Jan wondered. + +No further news had come from Hugo; Peter, she supposed, had sailed and +was due in London at the end of the week. + +Then Mr. Huntly Withells asked her one afternoon to bicycle over to see +his spring irises--he called them "_irides_," and invariably spoke of +"_croci_," and "_delphinia_"--and as Meg was taking the children to tea +at the vicarage, Jan went. + +To her surprise, she found herself the sole guest, but supposed she was +rather early and that his other friends hadn't come yet. + +They strolled about the gardens, so lovely in their spring blossoming, +and it happened that from one particular place they got a specially good +view of the house. + +"How much larger it is than you would think, looking at the front," Jan +remarked. "You don't see that wing at all from the drive." + +"There's plenty of room for nephews and nieces," Mr. Withells said +jocularly. + +"Have you many nephews and nieces?" she asked, turning to look at him, +for there was something in the tone of his voice that she could not +understand. + +"Not of my own," he replied, still in that queer, unnatural voice, "but +you see my wife might have ... if I was married." + +"Are you thinking of getting married?" she asked, with the real interest +such a subject always rouses in woman. + +"That depends," Mr. Withells said consciously, "on whether the lady I +have in mind ... er ... shall we sit down, Miss Ross? It's rather hot in +the walks." + +"Oh, not yet," Jan exclaimed. She couldn't think why, but she began to +feel uncomfortable. "I must see those Darwin tulips over there." + +"It's very sunny over there," he objected. "Come down the nut-walk and +see the _myosotis arvensis_; it is already in bloom, the weather has +been so warm. + +"Miss Ross," Mr. Withells continued seriously, as they turned into the +nut-walk which led back towards the house, "we have known each other for +a considerable time...." + +"We have," said Jan, as he had paused, evidently expecting a reply. + +"And I have come to have a great regard for you...." + +Again he paused, and Jan found herself silently whispering, "Curtsy +while you're thinking--it saves time," but she preserved an outward +silence. + +"You are, if I may say so, the most sensible woman of my acquaintance." + +"Thank you," said Jan, but without enthusiasm. + +"We are neither of us quite young"--(Mr. Withells was forty-nine, but it +was a little hard on Jan)--"and I feel sure that you, for instance, +would not expect or desire from a husband those constant outward +demonstrations of affection such as handclaspings and kisses, which are +so foolish and insanitary." + +Jan turned extremely red and walked rather faster. + +"Do not misunderstand me, Miss Ross," Mr. Withells continued, looking +with real admiration at her downcast, rosy face--she must be quite +healthy he thought, to look so clean and fresh always--"I lay down no +hard-and-fast rules. I do not say should my wife desire to kiss me +sometimes, that I should ... repulse her." + +Jan gasped. + +"But I have the greatest objection, both on sanitary and moral grounds +to----" + +"I can't imagine anyone _wanting_ to kiss you," Jan interrupted +furiously; "you're far too puffy and stippled." + +And she ran from him as though an angry bull were after her. + +Mr. Withells stood stock-still where he was, in pained astonishment. + +He saw the fleeing fair one disappear into the distance and in the +shortest time on record he heard the clanging of her bicycle bell as she +scorched down his drive. + +"Puffy and stippled"--"Puffy and stippled"! + +Mr. Withells repeated to himself this rudely personal remark as he +walked slowly towards the house. + +What could she mean? + +And what in the world had he said to make her so angry? + +Women were really most unaccountable. + +He ascended his handsome staircase and went into his dressing-room, and +there he sought his looking-glass, which stood in the window, and +surveyed himself critically. Yes, his cheeks _were_ a bit puffy near the +nostrils, and, as is generally the case in later life, the pores of the +skin were a bit enlarged, but for all that he was quite a personable +man. + +He sighed. Miss Ross, he feared, was not nearly so sensible as he had +thought. + +It was distinctly disappointing. + + * * * * * + +For the first mile and a quarter Jan scorched all she knew. The angry +blood was thumping in her ears and she exclaimed indignantly at +intervals, "How dared he! How dared he!" + +Then she punctured a tyre. + +There was no hope of getting it mended till she reached Wren's End, when +Earley would do it for her. As she pushed her bicycle along the lane she +recovered her sense of humour and she laughed. And presently she became +aware of a faint, sweet, elusive perfume from some flowering shrub on +the other side of somebody's garden wall. + +It strongly resembled the smell of a blossoming tree that grew on Ridge +Road, Malabar Hill. And in one second Jan was in Bombay, and was +standing in the moonlight, looking up into a face that was neither puffy +nor stippled nor prim; but young and thin and worn and very kind. And +the exquisite understanding of that moment came back to her, and her +eyes filled with tears. + +Yet in another moment she was again demanding indignantly, "How dared +he!" + +She went straight to her room when she got in, and, like Mr. Withells, +she went and looked at herself in the glass. + +Unlike Mr. Withells, she saw nothing there to give her any satisfaction. +She shook her head at the person in the glass and said aloud: + +"If that's all you get by trying to be sensible, the sooner you become a +drivelling idiot the better for your peace of mind--and your vanity." + +The person in the glass shook her head back at Jan, and Jan turned away +thoroughly disgusted with such a futile sort of _tu quoque_. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +ANOTHER WAY OF LOVE + + +Meg and the children, returning from their tea-party at the vicarage, +were stopped continually in their journey through the main street by +friendly folk who wanted to greet the children. It was quite a triumphal +progress, and Meg was feeling particularly proud that afternoon, for her +charges, including William, had all behaved beautifully. Little Fay had +refrained from snatching other children's belongings with the cool +remark, "Plitty little Fay would like 'at"; Tony had been quite merry +and approachable; and William had offered paws and submitted to +continual pullings, pushings and draggings with exemplary patience. + +Once through the friendly, dignified old street, they reached the main +road, which was bordered by rough grass sloping to a ditch surmounted by +a thick thorn hedge. They were rather late, and Meg was wheeling little +Fay as fast as she could, Tony trotting beside her to keep up, when a +motor horn was sounded behind them and a large car came along at a good +speed. They were all well to the side of the road, but William--with the +perverse stupidity of the young dog--above all, of the young +bull-terrier--chose that precise moment to gambol aimlessly right into +the path of the swiftly-coming motor, just as it seemed right upon him; +and this, regardless of terrified shouts from Meg and the children, +frantic sounding of the horn and violent language from the driver of the +car. + +It seemed that destruction must inevitably overtake William when the car +swerved violently as the man ran it down the sloping bank, where it +stuck, leaving William, unscathed and rather alarmed by all the clamour, +to run back to his family. + +Meg promptly whacked him as hard as she could, whereupon, much +surprised, he turned over on his back, waving four paws feebly in the +air. + +"Why don't you keep your dog at the side?" the man shouted with very +natural irritation as he descended from his seat. + +"He's a naughty--stupid--puppy," Meg ejaculated between the whacks. "It +wasn't your fault in the least, and it was awfully good of you to avoid +him."--Whack--whack. + +The man started a little as she spoke and came across the road towards +them. + +Meg raised a flushed face from her castigation of William, but the +pretty colour faded quickly when she saw who the stranger was. + +"Meg!" he exclaimed. "_You!_" + +For a tense moment they stared at one another, while the children stared +at the stranger. He was certainly a handsome man; melancholy, +"interesting." Pale, with regular features and sleepy, smallish eyes set +very near together. + +"If you knew how I have searched for you," he said. + +His voice was his great charm, and would have made his fortune on the +stage. It could convey so much, could be so tender and beseeching, so +charged with deepest sadness, so musical always. + +"Your search cannot have been very arduous," Meg answered drily. "There +has never been any mystery about my movements." And she looked him +straight in the face. + +"At first, I was afraid ... I did not try to find you." + +"You were well-advised." + +"Who is 'at sahib?" little Fay interrupted impatiently. "Let us go +home." She had no use for any sahib who ignored her presence. + +"Yes, we'd better be getting on," Meg said hurriedly, and seized the +handle of the pram. + +But he stood right in their path. + +"You were very cruel," the musical voice went on. "You never seemed to +give a thought to all _I_ was suffering." + +Meg met the sleepy eyes, that used to thrill her very soul, with a look +of scornful amusement in hers that was certainly the very last +expression he had ever expected to see in them. + +She had always dreaded this moment. + +Realising the power this man had exercised over her, she always feared +that should she meet him again the old glamour would surround him; the +old domination be reasserted. She forgot that in five years one's +standards change. + +Now that she did meet him she discovered that he held no bonds with +which to bind her. That what she had dreaded was a chimera. The real +Walter Brooke, the moment he appeared in the flesh, destroyed the image +memory had set up; and Meg straightened her slender shoulders as though +a heavy burden had dropped from them. + +The whole thing passed like a flash. + +"You were very cruel," he repeated. + +"There is no use going into all that," Meg answered in a cheerful, +matter-of-fact tone. "Good-bye, Mr. Brooke. We are most grateful to you +for not running over William, who is," here she raised her voice for the +benefit of the culprit, "a naughty--tiresome dog." + +"But you can't leave me like this. When can I see you again--there is so +much I want to explain...." + +"But I don't want any explanations, thank you. Come children, we _must_ +go." + +"Meg, listen ... surely you have some little feeling of kindness towards +me ... after all that happened...." + +He put his hand on Meg's arm to detain her, and William, who had never +been known to show enmity to human creature, gave a deep growl and +bristled. A growl so ominous and threatening that Meg hastily loosed the +pram and caught him by the collar with both hands. + +Tony saw that Meg was flustered and uncomfortable. "Why does he not go?" +he asked. "I thought he was a sahib, but I suppose he is the +gharri-wallah. We have thanked him--does he want backsheesh? Give him a +rupee." + +"He _does_ want backsheesh," the deep, musical voice went on--"a little +pity, a little common kindness." + +It was an embarrassing situation. William was straining at his collar +and growling like an incipient thunderstorm. + +"We have thanked you," Tony said again with dignity. "We have no money, +or we would reward you. If you like to call at the house, Auntie Jan +always has money." + +The man smiled pleasantly at Tony. + +"Thank you, young man. You have told me exactly what I wanted to know. +So you are with your friends?" + +"I can't hold this dog much longer," Meg gasped. "If you don't +go--you'll get bitten." + +William ceased to growl, for far down the road he had heard a footstep +that he knew. He still strained at his collar, but it was in a direction +that led away from Mr. Walter Brooke. Meg let go and William swung off +down the road. + +"Shall we all have a lide in loo ghalli?" little Fay asked--it seemed to +her sheer waste of time to stand arguing in the road when a good car was +waiting empty. The children called every form of conveyance a "gharri." + +"We shall meet again," said this persistent man. "You can't put me off +like this." + +He raised his voice, for he was angry, and its clear tones carried far +down the quiet road. + +"There's Captain Middleton with William," Tony said suddenly. "Perhaps +_he_ has some money." + +Meg paled and crimsoned, and with hands that trembled started to push +the pram at a great pace. + +The man went back to his car, and Tony, regardless of Meg's call to him, +ran to meet William and Miles. + +The back wheels of the car had sunk deeply into the soft wet turf. It +refused to budge. Miles came up. He was long-sighted, and he had seen +very well who it was that was talking to Meg in the road. He had also +heard Mr. Brooke's last remark. + +Till lately he had only known Walter Brooke enough to dislike him +vaguely. Since his interview with Mrs. Trent this feeling had +intensified to such an extent as surprised himself. At the present +moment he was seething with rage, but all the same he went and helped to +get the car up the bank, jacking it up, and setting his great shoulders +against it to start it again. + +All this Tony watched with deepest interest, and Meg waited, fuming, a +little way down the road, for she knew it was hopeless to get Tony to +come till the car had once started. Once on the hard road again, it +bowled swiftly away and to her immense relief passed her without +stopping. + +She saw that Miles was bringing Tony, and started on again with little +Fay. + +Fury was in her heart at Tony's disobedience, and behind it all a dull +ache that Miles should have heard, and doubtless misunderstood, Walter +Brooke's last remark. + +Tony was talking eagerly as he followed, but she was too upset to listen +till suddenly she heard Miles say in a tone of the deepest satisfaction, +"Good old William." + +This was too much. + +She stopped and called over her shoulder: "He isn't good at all; he's a +thoroughly tiresome, disobedient, badly-trained dog." + +They came up with her at that, and William rolled over on his back, for +he knew those tones portended further punishment. + +"He's an ass in lots of ways," Miles allowed, "but he is an excellent +judge of character." + +And as if in proof of this William righted himself and came cringing to +Meg to try and lick the hand that a few minutes ago had thumped him so +vigorously. + +Meg looked up at Miles and he looked down at her, and his gaze was +pained, kind and grave. _His_ eyes were large and well-opened and set +wide apart in his broad face. Honest, trustworthy eyes they were. + +Very gently he took the little pram from her, for he saw that her hands +were trembling: "You've had a fright," he said. "I know what it is. I +had a favourite dog run over once. It's horrible, it takes months to get +over it. I can't think why dogs are so stupid about motors ... must have +been a near shave that ... very decent of Brooke--he's taken pounds off +his car with that wrench." + +While Miles talked he didn't look at Meg. + +"I say, little Fay," he suddenly suggested, "wouldn't you like to walk a +bit?" and he lifted her out. "There, that's better. Now, Miss Morton, +you sit down a minute; you've had a shake, you know. I'll go on with the +kiddies." + +Meg was feeling a horrible, humiliating desire to cry. Her eyes were +bright with unshed tears, her knees refused to bear her. Thankfully she +sat down on the foot-board of Fay's little pram. The tall figure between +the two little ones suddenly grew blurred and dim. Furtively she blew +her nose and wiped her eyes. They were not a stone's throw from the +lodge at Wren's End. + +How absurd to be sitting there! + +And yet she didn't feel inclined to move just yet. + +"'Ere, my dear, you take a sip o' water; the gentleman's told me all +about it. Them sort o' shocks fair turns one over." + +And kind Mrs. Earley was beside her, holding out a thick tumbler. Meg +drank the deliciously cold water and arose refreshed. + +And somehow the homely comfort of Mrs. Earley's presence made her +realise wherein lay the essential difference between these two men. + +"He still treats me like a princess," she thought, "even though he +thinks ... Oh, what _can_ he think?" and Meg gave a little sob. + +"There, there!" said Mrs. Earley, "don't you take on no more, Miss. The +dear dog bain't 'urted not a 'air of him. 'E cum frolicking in that +friendly--I sometimes wonders if there do be anyone as William 'ud ever +bite. 'E ain't much of a watchdog, I fear." + +"He nearly bit someone this afternoon," Meg said. + +"Well, I'm not sorry to yer it. It don't do for man nor beast to be too +trustful--not in this world it don't." + +At the drive gate Miles was standing. + +Mrs. Earley took the pram with her for Earley to clean, and Meg and +Miles walked on together. + +"I'm sorry you've had this upset," he said. "I've talked to William like +a father." + +"It wasn't only William," Meg murmured. + +They were close to the house, and she stopped. + +"Good night, Captain Middleton. I must go and put my children to bed; +we're late." + +"I don't want to seem interfering, Miss Morton, but don't you let anyone +bully you into picking up an acquaintance you'd rather drop." + +"I suppose," said Meg, "one always has to pay for the things one has +done." + +"Well, yes, sooner or later; but it's silly to pay Jew prices." + +"Ah," said Meg, "you've never been poor enough to go to the Jews, so you +can't tell." + + * * * * * + +Miles walked slowly back to Amber Guiting that warm May evening. He had +a good deal to think over, for he had come to a momentous decision. When +he thought of Meg as he had just seen her--small and tremulous and +tearful--he clenched his big hands and made a sound in his throat not +unlike William's growl. When he pictured her angry onslaught upon +William, he laughed. But the outcome of his reflections was this--that +whether in the past she had really done anything that put her in Walter +Brooke's power, or whether he was right to trust to that intangible +quality in her that seemed to give the direct lie to the worst of Mrs. +Trent's story, Meg appeared to him to stand in need of some hefty chap +as a buffer between her and the hard world, and he was very desirous of +being that same for Meg. + +His grandfather, "Mutton-Pie Middleton," had married one of his own +waitresses for no other reason than that he found she was "the lass for +him"--and he might, so the Doncaster folk thought, have looked a good +deal higher for a wife, for he was a "warm" man at the time. Miles +strongly resembled his grandfather. He was somewhat ruefully aware that +in appearance there was but little of the Keills about him. He could +just remember the colossal old man who must have weighed over twenty +stone in his old age, and Miles, hitherto, had refused to buy a motor +for his own use because he knew that if he was to keep his figure he +must walk, and walk a lot. + +Like his grandfather, he was now perfectly sure of himself; Meg "was the +lass for him"; but he was by no means equally sure of her. By some +infallible delicacy of instinct--and this he certainly did not get from +the Middletons--he knew that what the world would regard as a +magnificent match for Meg, might be the very circumstance that would +destroy his chance with her. The Middletons were all keenly alive to the +purchasing powers of money, and saw to it that they got their money's +worth. + +All the same, a man's a man, whether he be rich or poor, and Miles still +remembered the way Meg had smiled upon him the first time they ever met. +Surely she could never have smiled at him like that unless she had +rather liked him. + +It was the pathos of Meg herself--not the fact that she had to +work--that appealed to Miles. That she should cheerfully earn her own +living instead of grousing in idleness in a meagre home seemed to him +merely a matter of common sense. He knew that if he had to do it he +could earn his, and the one thing he could neither tolerate nor +understand about a good many of his Keills relations was their +preference for any form of assistance to honest work. He helped them +generously enough, but in his heart of hearts he despised them, though +he did not confess this even to himself. + +As he drew near the Manor House he saw Lady Mary walking up and down +outside, evidently waiting for him. + +"Where have you been, Miles?" she asked, impatiently. "Pen has been +here, and wanted specially to see you, but she couldn't stay any longer, +as it's such a long run back. She motored over from Malmesbury." + +"What did she want?" Miles asked. "She's always in a stew about +something. One of her Pekinese got pip, or what?" + +Lady Mary took his arm and turned to walk along the terrace. "I think," +she said, and stopped. "Where _were_ you, Miles?" + +"I strolled down the village to get some tobacco, and then I saw a chap +who'd got his motor stuck, and helped him, and then ..." Here Miles +looked down at his aunt, who looked up at him apprehensively. "I caught +up with Miss Morton and the children, and walked back to Wren's End with +them. There, Aunt Mary, that's a categorical history of my time since +tea." + +Lady Mary pressed his arm. "Miles, dear, do you think it's quite wise to +be seen about so much with little Miss Morton ... wise for her I mean?" + +"I hope I'm not the sort of chap it's bad to be seen about with...." + +"Of course not, dear Miles, but, you see, her position...." + +"What's the matter with her position?" + +"Of course I know it's most creditable of her and all that ... but ... +when a girl has to go out as a sort of nursery governess, it is +different, isn't it, dear? I mean...." + +"Yes, Aunt Mary, I'm awfully interested--different from what?" + +"From girls who lead the sheltered life, girls who don't work ... girls +of our own class." + +"I don't know," Miles said thoughtfully, "that I should say Pen, for +instance, lives exactly a _sheltered_ life, should you?" + +"Pen is married." + +"Yes, but before she was married ... eh, Aunt Mary? Be truthful, now." + +Miles held his aunt's arm tightly within his, and he stooped and looked +into her face. + +"And does the fact that Pen is married explain or excuse her deplorable +taste in men? Which does it do, Aunt Mary? Speak up, now." + +Lady Mary laughed. "I'm not here to defend Pen; I'm here to get your +answer as to whether you think it's ... quite fair to make that little +Miss Morton conspicuous by running after her and making her the talk of +the entire county, for that's what you're doing." + +"What good old Pen has been telling you I'm doing, I suppose." + +"I had my own doubts about it without any help from Pen ... but she said +Alec Pottinger had been talking...." + +"Pottinger's an ass." + +"He doesn't talk _much_, anyhow, Miles, and she felt if _he_ said +anything...." + +"Look here, Aunt Mary, how's a chap to go courting seriously if he +doesn't run after a girl?... he can't work it from a distance ... not +unless he's one of those poet chaps, and puts letters in hollow trees +and so on. And you don't seem to have provided any hollow trees about +here." + +"Courting ... seriously!" Lady Mary repeated with real horror in her +tones. "Oh, Miles, you can't mean that!" + +"Surely you'd not prefer I meant the other thing?" + +"But, Miles dear, think!" + +"I have thought, and I've thought it out." + +"You mean you want to _marry_ her?" + +Lady Mary spoke in an awed whisper. + +"Just exactly that, and I don't care who knows it; but I'm not at all +sure she wants to marry me ... that's why I don't want to rush my fences +and get turned down. I'm a heavy chap to risk a fall, Aunt Mary." + +"Oh, Miles! this is worse than anything Pen even dreamt of." + +"What is? If you mean that she probably won't have me--I'm with you." + +"Of course she'd jump at you--any girl would.... But a little +nursemaid!" + +"Come now, Aunt Mary, you know very well she's just as good as I am; +better, probably, for she's got no pies nor starch in her pedigree. Her +father's a Major and her mother was of quite good family--and she's got +lots of rich, stingy relations ... and she doesn't sponge on 'em. What's +the matter with her?" + +"Please don't do anything in a hurry, dear Miles." + +"I shan't, if you and Pen and the blessed 'county,' with its criticism +and gossip, don't drive me into it ... but the very first word you +either say or repeat to me against Miss Morton, off I go to her and to +the old Major.... So now we understand each other, Aunt Mary--eh?" + +"There are things you ought to know, Miles." + +"You may depend," said Miles grimly, "that anything I ought to know I +shall be told ... over and over again ... confound it.... And remember, +Aunt Mary, that what I've told you is not in the least private. Tell +Pen, tell Mrs. Fream, tell Withells, but just leave me to tell Miss +Ross, that's all I beg." + +"Miles, I shall tell nobody, for I hope ... I hope----" + +"'Hope told a flattering tale,'" said Miles, and kissed his aunt ... but +to himself he said: "I've shut their mouths for a day or two anyway." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +THE ENCAMPMENT + + +It was the morning of the first Monday in June, and Tony had wandered +out into the garden all by himself. Monday mornings were very busy, and +once Clipture was over Jan and Meg became socially useless to any +self-respecting boy. + +There was all the washing to sort and divide into two large heaps: what +might be sent to Mrs. Chitt in the village, and what might be kept for +the ministrations of one Mrs. Mumford, who came every Monday to Wren's +End. And this division was never arrived at without a good deal of +argument between Jan and Meg. + +If Jan had had her way, Mrs. Mumford's heap would have been very small +indeed, and would have consisted chiefly of socks and handkerchiefs. If +Meg had had hers, nothing at all would have gone to Mrs. Chitt. Usually, +too, Hannah was called in as final arbitrator, and she generally sided +with Meg. Little Fay took the greatest interest in the whole ceremony, +chattered continually, and industriously mixed up the heaps when no one +was looking. + +At such times Tony was of the opinion that there were far too many women +in the world. On this particular morning, too, he felt injured because +of something that had happened at breakfast. + +It was always a joy to Meg and Jan that whatever poor Fay might have +left undone in the matter of disciplining her children, she had at least +taught them to eat nicely. Little Fay's management of a spoon was a joy +to watch. The dimpled baby hand was so deft, the turn of the plump wrist +so sure and purposeful. She never spilled or slopped her food about. Its +journey from bowl to little red mouth was calculated and assured. Both +children had a horror of anything sticky, and would refuse jam unless it +was "well covelled in a sangwidge." + +That very morning Jan and Meg exchanged congratulatory glances over +their well-behaved charges, sitting side by side. + +Then, all at once, with a swift, sure movement, little Fay stretched up +and deposited a spoonful of exceedingly hot porridge exactly on the top +of her brother's head, with a smart tap. + +Tony's hair was always short, and had been cut on Saturday, and the hot +mixture ran down into his eyes, which filled him with rage. + +He tried to get out of his high chair, exclaiming angrily, "Let me get +at her to box her!" + +Jan held him down with one hand while she wiped away the offending mess +with the other, and all the time Tony cried in _crescendo_, "Let me get +at her!" + +Little Fay, quite unmoved, continued to eat her porridge with studied +elegance, and in gently reproachful tones remarked, "Tony velly closs +littoo boy." + +Jan and Meg, who wanted desperately to laugh, tried hard to look +shocked, and Meg asked, "What on earth possessed you to do such a +thing?" + +"Tony's head so shiny and smoove." + +Tony rubbed the shiny head ruefully. + +"Can't I do nuffin to her?" he demanded. + +"No," his sister answered firmly, "loo can't, 'cos I'm plitty littoo +Fay." + +"Can't I plop some on _her_ head?" he persisted. + +"It certainly seems unfair," Jan said thoughtfully, "but I think you'd +better not." + +"It _is_ unfair," Tony grumbled. + +Jan loosed his hands. "Now," she said, "you can do what you like." + +Little Fay leaned towards her brother, smiling her irresistible, +dimpled, twinkling smile, and held out a spoonful of her porridge. + +"Deah littoo Tony," she cooed, "taste it." + +And Tony meekly accepted the peace-offering. + +"You haven't smacked her," Jan remarked. + +Tony sighed. "It's too late now--I don't feel like it any more." + +All the same he felt aggrieved as he set out to seek Earley in the +kitchen garden. + +Earley was not to be found. He saw Mrs. Mumford already hanging kitchen +cloths on a line in the orchard, but he felt no desire for Mrs. +Mumford's society. + +Tony's tormented soul sought for something soothing. + +The garden was pleasant, but it wasn't enough. + +Ah! he'd got it! + +He'd go to the river; all by himself he'd go, and not tell anybody. He'd +look over the bridge into that cool deep pool and perhaps that big fat +trout would be swimming about. What was it he had heard Captain +Middleton say last time he was down at Amber Guiting? "The Mayfly was +up." + +He had seemed quite delighted about it, therefore it must mean something +pleasant. + +After all, on a soft, not too sunny morning in early June, with a west +wind rustling the leaves in the hedges, the world was not such a bad +place; for even if there were rather too many women in it, there were +dogs and rivers and country roads where adventurous boys could see life +for themselves. + +William agreed with Tony in his dislike of Monday mornings. He went and +lay on the front door mat so that he was more than ready to accompany +anyone who happened to be going out. + +By the time they reached the bridge all sense of injury had vanished, +and buoyant expectation had taken its place. + +Three men were fishing. One was far in the distance, one about three +hundred yards up stream, and one Tony recognised as Mr. Dauncey, +landlord of "The Full Basket," the square white house standing in its +neat garden just on the other side of the bridge. The fourth gentleman, +who had forgotten his hat, and was clad in a holland smock, sandals, +and no stockings, leaned over luxuriously, with his elbows on the low +wall and his bare legs thrust out. He was very still, even trying not to +twitch when William licked his bare legs, as he did at intervals just to +show he was there on guard. + +There had been heavy rain in the night and the water was discoloured. +Nobody noticed Tony, and for about an hour nothing happened. Then Mr. +Dauncey got a rise. The rigid little figure on the bridge leaned further +over as Mr. Dauncey's reel screamed and he followed his cast down +stream. + +Presently, with a sense of irritation, Tony was aware of footsteps +coming over the bridge. He felt that he simply could not bear it just +then if anyone leaned over beside him and talked. The footsteps came up +behind him and passed; and William, who was lying between Tony's legs +and the wall, squeezed as close to him as possible, gave a low growl. + +"Hush, William, naughty dog!" Tony whispered crossly. + +William hushed, and drooped as he always did when rebuked. + +It occurred to Tony to look after this amazing person who could cross a +bridge without stopping to look over when a reel was joyfully +proclaiming that some fisherman was having luck. + +It was a man, and he walked as though he were footsore and tired. There +was something dejected and shabby in his appearance, and his clothes +looked odd somehow in Amber Guiting. Tony stared after the stranger, +and gradually he realised that there was something familiar in the back +of the tall figure that walked so slowly and yet seemed trying to walk +fast. + +The man had a stick and evidently leant upon it as he went. He wore an +overcoat and carried nothing in his hand. + +Mr. Dauncey's reel chuckled and one of the other anglers ran towards him +with a landing-net. + +But Tony still stared after the man. Presently, with a deep sigh, he +started to follow him. + +Just once he turned, in time to see that Mr. Dauncey had landed his +trout. + +The sun came out from behind the clouds. "The Full Basket," the river, +brown and rippled, the bridge, the two men talking eagerly on the bank +below, the muddy road growing cream-coloured in patches as it dried, +were all photographed upon Tony's mind. When he started to follow the +stranger he was out of sight, but now Tony trotted steadily forward and +did not look round again. + +William was glad. He had been lying in a puddle, and, like little Fay, +he preferred "a dly place." + +Meanwhile, at Wren's End the washing had taken a long time to count and +to divide. There seemed a positively endless number of little smocks and +frocks and petticoats and pinafores, and Meg wanted to keep them all for +Mrs. Mumford to wash, declaring that she (Meg) could starch and iron +them beautifully. This was quite true. She could iron very well, as she +did everything she undertook to do. But Jan knew that it tired her +dreadfully, that the heat and the wielding of the heavy iron were very +bad for her, and after much argument and many insulting remarks from Meg +as to Jan's obstinacy and extravagance generally, the things were +divided. Meg put on little Fay's hat and swept her out into the garden; +whereupon Jan plunged into Mrs. Mumford's heap, removed all the things +to be ironed that could not be tackled by Anne Chitt, stuffed them into +Mrs. Chitt's basket, fastened it firmly and rang for Anne and Hannah to +carry the things away. + +She washed her hands and put on her gardening gloves preparatory to +going out, humming a gay little snatch of song; and as she ran down the +wide staircase she heard the bell ring, and saw the figure of a man +standing in the open doorway. + +The maids were carrying the linen down the back stairs, and she went +across the hall to see what he wanted. + +"Well, Jan," he said, and his voice sounded weak and tired. "Here I am +at last." + +He held out his hand, and as she took it she felt how hot and dry it +was. + +"Come in, Hugo," she said quietly. "Why didn't you let me know you were +coming, and I'd have met you." + +The man followed her as she led the way into the cool, fragrant +drawing-room. He paused in the doorway and passed his hand across his +eyes. "It does bring it all back," he said. + +He sat down in a deep chair and leaned his head against the back, +closing his eyes. Jan saw that he was thin to emaciation, and that he +looked very ill; shabby, too, and broken. + +The instinct of the nurse that exists in any woman worth her salt was +roused in Jan. All the passionate indignation she had felt against her +brother-in-law was merged at the moment in pity and anxiety. + +"Hugo," she said gently, "I fear you are ill. Have you had any +breakfast?" + +"I came by the early train to avoid ordering breakfast; I couldn't have +paid for it. I'd only enough for my fare. Jan, I haven't a single rupee +left." + +He sat forward in the chair with his hands on the arms and closed his +eyes again. + +Jan looked keenly at the handsome, haggard face. There was no pretence +here. The man was gravely ill. His lips (Jan had always mistrusted his +well-shaped mouth because it would never really shut) were dry and +cracked and discoloured, the cheekbones sharp, and there was that deep +hollow at the back of the neck that always betrays the man in +ill-health. + +She went to him and pressed him back in the chair. + +"What do you generally do when you have fever?" she asked. + +"Go to bed--if there is a bed; and take quinine and drink hot tea." + +"That's what you'd better do now. Where are your things?" + +"There's a small bag at the station. They promised to send it up. I +couldn't carry it and I had no money to pay a boy. I came the long way +round, Jan, not through the village. No one recognised me." + +"I'll get you some tea at once, and I have quinine in the house. Will +you take some now?" + +Hugo laughed. "Your quinine would be of no earthly use to me, but I've +already taken it this morning. I've got some here in my pocket. The +minute my bag comes I'll go to bed--if you don't mind." + +Someone fumbled at the handle of the door, and Tony, followed by +William, appeared on the threshold. + +Hugo Tancred opened his eyes. "Hullo!" he said. "Do you remember me, +young shaver?" + +Tony came into the room holding out his hand. "How do you do?" he said +solemnly. + +Hugo took it and stared at his son with strange glazed eyes. "You look +fit enough, anyhow," he said, and dropped the little hand. + +"I came as quick as I could," Tony said eagerly to Jan. "But Mr. Dauncey +caught a trout, and I _had_ to wait a minute." + +"Good heavens!" Hugo exclaimed irritably. "Do you all _still_ think and +talk about nothing but fishing?" + +"Come," said Jan, holding out her hand to Tony, "and we'll go and see +about some breakfast for Daddie." + +William, who had been sniffing dubiously at the man in the chair, dashed +after them. + +As they crossed the hall Tony remarked philosophically: "Daddie's got +fever. He'll be very cross, then he'll be very sad, and then he'll want +you to give him something, and if you do--p'raps he'll go away." + +Jan made no answer. + +Tony followed her through the swing door and down the passage to speak +to Hannah, who was much moved and excited when she heard Mr. Tancred had +arrived. Hannah was full of sympathy for the "poor young widower," and +though she could have wished that he had given them notice of his +coming, still, she supposed him to be so distracted with grief that he +forgot to do anything of the kind. She and Anne Chitt went there and +then to make up his bed, while Jan boiled the kettle and got him some +breakfast. + +While she was doing this Meg and little Fay came round to the back to +look for Tony, whom they found making toast. + +"Who's tum?" asked little Fay, while Jan rapidly explained the situation +to Meg. + +"Your Daddie's come." + +Little Fay looked rather vague. "What sort of a Daddie?" she asked. + +"You take her to see him, Tony, and I'll finish the toast," said Jan, +taking the fork out of his hand. + +When the children had gone Meg said slowly: "And Mr. Ledgard comes +to-morrow?" + +"He can't. I must telegraph and put him off for a day or two. Hugo is +really ill." + +"I shouldn't put him off long, if I were you." + +Jan seized the tray: "I'll send a wire now, if you and the children will +take it down to the post-office for me." + +"Why send it at all?" said Meg. "Let him come." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +TACTICS + + +It was a fortnight since Hugo Tancred arrived at Wren's End, and Jan had +twice put off Peter's visit. + +During the first few days Hugo's temperature remained so high that she +grew thoroughly alarmed; and in spite of his protestations that he was +"quite used to it," she sent for the doctor. Happily the doctor in his +youth had been in the East and was able to reassure her. His opinion, +too, had more weight with Hugo on this account, and though he grumbled +he consented to do what the doctor advised. And at the end of a week +Hugo was able to come downstairs, looking very white and shaky. He lay +out in the garden in a deck-chair for most of the day and managed to eat +a good many of the nourishing dishes Hannah prepared for him. + +It had been a hard time for Jan, as Hugo was not an invalid who excited +compassion in those who had to wait upon him. He took everything for +granted, was somewhat morose and exacting, and made no attempt to +control the extreme irritability that so often accompanies fever. + +When the fever left him, however, his tone changed, and the second +stage, indicated by Tony as "sad," set in with severity. + +His depression was positively overwhelming, and he seemed to think that +its public manifestation should arouse in all beholders the most +poignant and respectful sympathy. + +Poor Jan found it very difficult to behave in a manner at all calculated +to satisfy her brother-in-law. She had not, so far, uttered one word of +reproach to him, but she _would_ shrink visibly when he tried to discuss +his wife, and she could not even pretend to believe in the deep +sincerity of a grief that seemed to find such facile solace in +expression. The mode of expression, too, in hackneyed, commonplace +phrases, set her teeth on edge. + +She knew that poor Hugo--she called him "poor Hugo" just then--thought +her cold and unsympathetic because she rather discouraged his +outpourings; but Fay's death was too lately-lived a tragedy to make it +possible for her to talk of it--above all, with him; and after several +abortive attempts Hugo gave up all direct endeavour to make her. + +"You are terribly Scotch, Jan," he said one day. "I sometimes wonder +whether anything could make you _really_ feel." + +Jan looked at him with a sort of contemptuous wonder that caused him to +redden angrily, but she made no reply. + +He was her guest, he was a broken man, and she knew well that they had +not yet even approached their real difference. + +Two people, however, took Hugo's attitude of profound dejection in the +way he expected and liked it to be taken. These were Mr. Withells and +Hannah. + +Mr. Withells did not bear Jan a grudge because of her momentary lapse +from good manners. In less than a week from the unfortunate interview in +the nut-walk he had decided that she could not properly have understood +him; and that he had, perhaps, sprung upon her too suddenly the high +honour he held in store for her. + +So back he came in his neat little two-seater car to call at Wren's End +as if nothing had happened, and Jan, guiltily conscious that she _had_ +been very rude, was only too thankful to accept the olive-branch in the +spirit in which it was offered. + +He took to coming almost as often as before, and was thoroughly +interested and commiserating when he heard that poor Mrs. Tancred's +husband had come home from India and been taken ill almost immediately +on arrival. He sent some early strawberries grown in barrels in the +houses, and with them a note conjuring Jan "on no account to leave them +in the sickroom overnight, as the smell of fruit was so deleterious." + +Hannah considered Hugo's impenetrable gloom a most proper and husbandly +tribute to the departed. She felt that had there been a Mr. Hannah she +could not have wished him to show more proper feeling had Providence +thought fit to snatch her from his side. So she expressed her admiration +in the strongest of soups, the smoothest of custards, and the most +succulent of mutton-chops. Gladly would she have commanded Mrs. Earley +to slay her fattest cockerels for the nourishment of "yon poor +heartbroken young man," but that she remembered (from her experience of +Fay's only visit) that no one just home from India will give a thank-you +for chickens. + +Jan had cause to bless kind Mr. Withells, for directly Hugo was able for +it, he came with his largest and most comfortable car, driven by his +trustworthy chauffeur, to take the invalid for a run right into +Wiltshire. He pressed Jan to go too, but she pleaded "things to see to" +at home. + +Hugo had seen practically nothing of Meg. She was fully occupied in +keeping the children out of their father's way. Little Fay "pooah +daddied" him when they happened to meet, and Tony stared at him in the +weighing, measuring way Hugo found so trying, but Meg neither looked at +him nor did she address any remark whatever to him unless she positively +could not help it. + +Meg was thoroughly provoked that he should have chosen to turn up just +then. She had been most anxious that Peter should come. Firstly, +because, being sharply observant, she had come to the conclusion that +his visit would be a real pleasure to Jan, and secondly, because she +ardently desired to see him herself that she might judge whether he was +"at all good enough." + +And now her well-loved Jan, instead of looking her best, was growing +thin and haggard, losing her colour, and her sweet serenity, and in +their place a patient, tired expression in her eyes that went to Meg's +heart. + +She had hardly seen Jan alone for over a week; for since Hugo came +downstairs Meg had taken all her meals with the children in the nursery, +while Jan and Hugo had theirs in the rarely-used dining-room. The girls +breakfasted together, as Hugo had his in his room, but as the children +were always present there was small chance of any confidential +conversation. + +The first afternoon Mr. Withells took Hugo for a drive, Meg left her +children in Earley's care the minute she heard the car depart, and went +to look for Jan in the house. + +She found her opening all the windows in the dining-room. Meg shut the +door and sat on the polished table, lit a cigarette and regarded her own +pretty swinging feet with interest. + +"How long does Mr. Tancred propose to stay?" she asked. + +"How can I tell," Jan answered wearily, as she sat down in one of the +deep window-seats. "He has nowhere to go and no money to go with; and, +so far, except for a vague allusion to some tea-plantation in Ceylon, he +has suggested no plans. Oh, yes! I forgot, there was something about +fruit-farming or vine-growing in California, but I fancy considerable +capital would be needed for that." + +"And how much longer do you intend to keep Mr. Ledgard waiting for _his_ +visit?" + +"It would be small pleasure for Mr. Ledgard to come here with Hugo, and +horrid for Hugo, for he knows perfectly well what Peter ... Mr. Ledgard +thinks of him." + +"But if friend Hugo knew Mr. Ledgard was coming, might it not have an +accelerating effect upon his movements? You could give him his +fare--single, mind--to Guernsey. Let him go and stay with his people for +a bit." + +Jan shook her head. "I can't turn him out, Meg; and I'm not going to let +Mr. Ledgard waste his precious leave on an unpleasant visit. If I could +give him a good time it would be different; but after all he did for us +while we were in Bombay, it would be rank ingratitude to let him in for +more worries at home." + +"Perhaps he wouldn't consider them worries. Perhaps he'd _like_ to +come." + +Jan's strained expression relaxed a little and she smiled with her eyes +fixed on Meg's neat swinging feet. "He _says_ he would." + +"Well, then, take him at his word. We can turn the excellent Withells on +to Hugo. Let him instruct Hugo in the importance of daily free +gymnastics after one's bath and the necessity for windows being left +open at the top 'day and night, but _especially_ at night.' Let's tell +that Peter man to come." + +Jan shook her head. + +"No, I've explained the situation to him and begged him not to consider +us any more for the present. We must think of the maids too. You see, +Hugo makes a good deal of extra work, and I'm afraid Hannah might turn +grumpy if there was yet another man to do for." + +Meg thoughtfully blew beautiful rings of smoke, carefully poked a small +finger exactly into the centre of each and continued to swing her feet +in silence. + +Jan leaned her head against the casement and closed her eyes. + +Without so much as a rustle Meg descended from the table. She went over +to Jan and dropped a light kiss on the top of the thick wavy hair that +was so nearly white. Jan opened her tired eyes and smiled. + +This quaint person in the green linen frock and big white apron always +looked so restfully neat and clean, so capable and strong with that +inward shining strength that burns with a steady light. Jan put her arms +round Meg and leaned her head against the admirable apron's cool, smooth +bib. + +"You're here, anyway," she said. "You don't know how I thank God for +that." + +Meg held her close. "Listen to me," she said. "You're going on quite a +wrong tack with that brother-in-law. You are, Jan--I grieve to say +it--standing between him and his children--you don't allow him to see +his children, especially his adored daughter, nearly enough. Now that he +is well enough to take the air with Mr. Withells I propose that we allow +him to _study_ his children--and how can he study them if they are never +left with him? Let him realise what it would be if he had them with him +constantly, and no interfering aunt to keep them in order--do you +understand, Jan? Have you tumbled to it? You are losing a perfectly +magnificent opportunity." + +Jan pushed Meg a little away from her and looked up: "I believe there's +a good deal in what you say." + +"There's everything in what I say. As long as the man was ill one +couldn't, of course, but now we can and will--eh, Jan?" + +"Not Tony," Jan said nervously. "Hugo doesn't care much for Tony, and +I'm always afraid what he may say or do to the child." + +"If you let him have them both occasionally he may discover that Tony +has his points." + +"They're _both_ perfect darlings," Jan said resentfully. Meg laughed and +danced a two-step to the door. + +"They're darlings that need a good deal of diplomatic managing, and if +they don't get it they'll raise Cain. I'm going to take them down to the +post-office directly with my Indian letters. Why not come with us for +the walk?" + + * * * * * + +Hugo quite enjoyed his run with Mr. Withells and Mr. Withells enjoyed +being consulted about Hugo's plans. He felt real sympathy for a young +man whose health, ruined by one bad station after another, had forced +him to give up his career in India. He suggested various ameliorating +treatments to Hugo, who received his advice with respectful gratitude, +and they arranged to drive again together on Saturday, which was next +day but one. + +Hugo sought the sofa in the drawing-room for a quiet hour before dinner +and lit a cigar. He had hardly realised his pleasantly tired and rather +somnolent condition when his daughter entered carrying a large +Teddy-bear, two dolls, a toy trumpet and a box containing a wooden +tea-set. She dropped several of these articles just inside the door. +"Come and help me pick up my sings," she commanded. "I've come to play +wis loo, Daddie." + +Hugo did not move. He was fond of little Fay; he admired her good looks +and her splendid health, but he didn't in the least desire her society +just then. + +"Poor Daddie's tired," he said in his "saddest" tone. "I think you'd +better go and play in the nursery with Tony." + +"No," said little Fay, "Tony's not zere; _loo_ mus' play wis me. +Or"--she added as a happy alternative--"loo can tell me sumfin +instastin." + +"Surely," said Hugo, "it's your bed-time?" + +"No," little Fay answered, and the letters were never formed that could +express the finality of that "no," "Med will fesh me when it's time. +I've come to play wis _loo_. Det up, Daddie; loo can't play p'oply lying +zere." + +"Oh, yes, I can," Hugo protested eagerly. "You bring all your nice toys +one by one and show them to me." + +"'At," she remarked with great scorn, "would be a velly stupid game. Det +up!" + +"Why can't Meg play with you?" Hugo asked irritably. "What's she doing?" + +Little Fay stared at her father. She was unaccustomed to be addressed +in that tone, and she resented it. Earley and Mr. Burgess were her +humble slaves. Captain Middleton did as he was told and became an +elephant, a camel, or a polar bear on the shortest notice, moreover he +threw himself into the part with real goodwill and enjoyment. The lazy +man lying there on the sofa, who showed no flattering pleasure in her +society, must be roused to a sense of his shortcomings. She seized the +Teddy-bear, swung it round her head and brought it down with a +resounding thump on Hugo's chest. "Det up," she said more loudly. "Loo +don't seem to know any stolies, so you _mus'_ play wis me." + +Hugo swung his legs off the sofa and sat up to recover his breath, which +had been knocked out of him by the Teddy-bear. + +"You're a very rude little girl," he said crossly. "You'll have to be +punished if you do that sort of thing." + +"What sort of sing?" + +"What you did just now; it's very naughty indeed." + +"What nelse?" + +Little Fay stood with her head on one side like an inquisitive sparrow. +One of the things she had not dropped was the tin trumpet. She raised it +to her lips now, and blew a blast that went through Hugo's head like a +knife. + +He snatched it from her. "You're not to do that," he said. "I can't +stand it. Go and pick up those other things and show them to me." + +"Loo can see zem from here." + +"Not what's in the box," he suggested diplomatically. + +"I'm tah'ed too," she said, suddenly sitting down on the floor. "You +fesh 'em." + +"Will you play with them if I do?" + +She shook her head. "Not if loo're closs, and lude and naughty and ... +stupid." + +Hugo groaned and stalked over to collect the two dolls and the +tea-things. He brought them back and put them down on one end of the +sofa while he sat down at the other. + +"Now," he said, "show me how you play with them." + +His cigar had gone out and he struck a match to light it again. Little +Fay scrambled to her feet and blew it out before he had touched his +cigar with it. + +"Adain," she said joyously. "Make anozer light." + +He struck another match, but sheltered it with his hand till he'd got +his cigar going, his daughter blowing vigorously all the time. + +"Now," she said, "you can be a nengine and I'll be the tlain." + +Round that drawing-room the unfortunate Hugo ran, encouraged in his +efforts by blasts upon the trumpet. The chairs were arranged as +carriages, the dolls as passengers, and the box of tea-things was +luggage. None of these transformations were suggested by Hugo, but +little Fay had played the game so often under Meg's brilliant +supervision that she knew all the properties by heart. + +At the end of fifteen minutes Hugo was thoroughly exhausted and audibly +thanked God when Meg appeared to fetch her charge. But he hadn't +finished even then, for little Fay, aided and abetted by Meg, insisted +that every single thing should be tidily put back exactly where it was +before. + +At the door, just as they were on the point of departure, Meg paused. +"You must enjoy having her all to yourself for a little while," she said +in honeyed, sympathetic tones such as Hugo, certainly, had never heard +from her before. "I fear we've been rather selfish about it, but for the +future we must not forget that you have the first right to her.... Did +you kiss your dear Daddie, my darling?" + + * * * * * + +Through the shut door Hugo heard his daughter's voice proclaiming in +lofty, pitying tones, "Pooah Daddie velly stupid man, he was a velly bad +nengine, he did it all long." + +"Damn!" said Hugo Tancred. + + * * * * * + +During dinner that night Jan talked continually about the children. She +consulted Hugo as to things in which he took not the smallest interest, +such as what primers he considered the best for earliest instruction in +reading, and whether he thought the Montessori method advantageous or +not. + +As they sat over dessert he volunteered the remark that little Fay was +rather an exhausting child. + +"All children are," Jan answered, "and I've just been thinking that +while you are here to help me, it would be such a good chance to give +Meg a little holiday. She has not had a day off since I came back from +India, and it would be so nice for her to go to Cheltenham for a few +days to see Major Morton." + +"But surely," Hugo said uneasily, "that's what she's here for, to look +after the children. She's very highly paid; you could get a good nurse +for half what you pay her." + +"I doubt it, and you must remember that, because she loved Fay, she is +accepting less than half of what she could earn elsewhere to help me +with Fay's children." + +"Of course, if you import sentiment into the matter you must pay for +it." + +"But I fear that's just what I don't do." + +"My dear Jan, you must forgive me if I venture to think that both you +and your father, and even Fay, were quite absurd about Meg Morton. She's +a nice enough little girl, but nothing so very wonderful, and as for her +needing a holiday after a couple of months of the very soft job she has +with you ... that's sheer nonsense." + +There was silence for a minute. Hugo took another chocolate and said, +"You know I don't believe in having children all over the place. The +nursery is the proper place for them when they're little, and school is +the proper place--most certainly the proper place, anyway, for a boy--as +soon as ever any school can be found to take him." + +"I quite agree with you as to the benefit of a good school," Jan said +sweetly. "I am painfully conscious myself of how much I lost in never +having had any regular education. Have you thought yet what preparatory +school you'd prefer for Tony?" + +"Hardly yet. I've not been home long enough, and, as you know, at +present, I've no money at all...." + +"I shall be most pleased to help with Tony's education, but in that case +I should expect to have some voice in the school selected." + +"Certainly, certainly," Hugo agreed. "But what I really want to know is +what you propose to do to help me to attain a position in which I _can_ +educate my children as we both should wish." + +"I don't quite see where I come in." + +"My dear Jan, that's absurd. You have money--and a few hundreds now will +start me again...." + +"Start you again in what direction?" + +"That's what we've got to thresh out. I've several propositions to lay +before you." + +"All propositions will have to be submitted to Mr. Davidson." + +"That's nonsense. You must remember that I could contest Fay's will if I +liked--it was grossly unfair to leave that two thousand pounds away from +me." + +"She left it to her children, Hugo, and _you_ must remember you spent +eight thousand pounds of her money." + +"_I_ didn't spend it. Do you think _I_ benefited? The investments were +unfortunate, I grant you, but that's not to say I had it." + +"Anyway that money is gone." + +"And the sooner I set about making some more to replace it the better, +but I must have help." + +"It takes every penny of my income to run things here." + +"Well, you know, Jan, to be quite candid, I think it's rather ridiculous +of you to live here. You could let this place easily and for a good +rent. In a smaller house you'd be equally comfortable and in easier +circumstances. I'm not at all sure I approve of my children being +brought up with the false ideas they will inevitably acquire if they +continue to live in a big place like this." + +"You see, Hugo, it happens to be my house, and I'm fond of it." + +"No doubt, but if you make a fetish of the house, if the house stands in +the way of your helping your own flesh and blood...." + +"I don't think I've ever refused to help my _own_ relations." + +"Which means, I suppose, that your sister's husband is nothing to you." + +Jan rose. "You are rather unjust, I think," she said quietly. "I must +put the children first." + +"And suppose you marry----" + +"I certainly wouldn't marry any man who would object to my doing all I +could for my sister's children." + +"You think so now, but wait till a man comes along. You're just getting +to the age, Jan, when a woman is most apt to make a fool of herself over +a man. And, remember this, I'd much rather my children were brought up +simply with my people in Guernsey than that they should grow up with all +sorts of false ideas with nothing to back them." + +Jan clenched her teeth, and though outwardly she was silent, her soul +was repeating, "I _will_ not fear," over and over again. + +"Perhaps you are right, Hugo," she said quietly. "You must arrange as +you think best; only please remember that you can hardly expect me to +contribute to the keeping of the children if I am allowed no voice in +their upbringing. Have you consulted your parents as to their living +with them in Guernsey? Shall we go out? It's such a beautiful evening." + +Hugo followed her into the hall and out into the garden. Involuntarily +he looked after her with considerable admiration. She held herself well, +that quiet woman. She waited for him in the drive, and as she did so +Tony's words came back to her: "I used to feel frightened inside, but I +wouldn't let him know it, and then--it was funny--but quite sunnly I +wasn't frightened any more. You try it." + + * * * * * + +Jan had tried it, and, again to quote Tony, "it just happened." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +"THE WAY OF A MAN WITH A MAID" + + +Peter began to feel annoyed. More and more clearly did he realise that +his chief object in coming home was to see Jan again; and here was he, +still in London in the third week of June, and never so much as a +glimpse of her. + +Her last letter, too, had postponed his visit indefinitely, and he +almost thought she was not treating him quite fairly. It was, of course, +a confounded bore that Hugo Tancred should have turned up just now, but +Peter saw no reason for staying away for ever on that account. He knew +Wren's End was a good-sized house, and though he appreciated Jan's +understanding of the fact that he wouldn't exactly choose to be a +fellow-guest with such a thoroughly bad hat as Hugo Tancred, still he +considered it was laying too much stress upon the finer shades of +feeling to keep him away so long. + +His aunt was delighted to have him; London was very pleasant; he had +dined out quite a number of times, attended some big parties, seen all +the best plays, and bought or ordered all the new clothes he needed, and +a good deal that he didn't need at all. He had also bought a motor to +take out with him. It was more than time to get within range of the main +objective of his leave. + +Suggestions that Jan _must_ have shopping to do and might as well come +up for a day or two to do it only elicited the reply that she had no +money for shopping and that it was most unlikely that she would be in +London again for ages. + +She hadn't answered his last letter, either, which was another +grievance. + +Then came a letter with the Amber Guiting post-mark, and in a +handwriting he did not know--a funny little, clear, square handwriting +with character in every stroke. + +He opened it and read: + + "DEAR MR. LEDGARD, + + "It is just possible you may have heard of me from Mrs. + Tancred or Miss Ross, but in case you haven't I will + explain that I am nurse to the little Tancreds and that + Miss Ross is my dearest friend. I think it would be a very + good thing if you came down to see her, for her + brother-in-law is here, and I am never quite sure what he + might persuade her to do if he put the screw on about the + children. There is a comfortable inn called 'The Green + Hart,' and there's another called 'The Full Basket,' but I + fear you'd not get a room there as it's very small and + always chock-full at this time of year with fishing people. + + "You see, if you came down to 'The Green Hart,' Jan + couldn't say anything, for you've a perfect right to stay + there if you choose, and I know it would help her and + strengthen her hands to talk things over with you. She has + spoken much of your kindness to them all in India. + + "Do you fish, I wonder? I'm sure Squire Walcote would be + amiable to any friend of Jan's. + + "Believe me, yours truly, + + "MARGARET MORTON." + +Peter put the letter in his pocket and left the rest of his +correspondence till after breakfast, and his aunt decided that he really +was a most amusing and agreeable companion, and that she must have been +mistaken last night in thinking he seemed rather depressed and worried. + +After breakfast he went out to send a reply-paid telegram, and then to +the garage, where he kept his car. Among other places he drove to "Hardy +Brothers" in Pall Mall, where he stayed over an hour. + +By the time he got back to Artillery Mansions it was lunch time. More +letters awaited him, also a telegram. + +During lunch he mentioned casually that he was going down into the +country for the week-end to fish. He was going to motor down. + +"Yes," in answer to his aunt's inquiry, "I do know people down there, +but I'm not going to stay with them. I'm going to the inn--one's freer, +you know, and if the sport's good I may stay on a few days." + + * * * * * + +Mr. Withells came again for Hugo on Saturday morning and proposed a run +right over to Cheltenham for a rose show. Hugo declined the rose show, +but gratefully accepted the drive. He would potter about the town while +Mr. Withells inspected the flowers. The Grange head-gardener had +several exhibits, and was to be taken on the front seat. + +They started soon after breakfast and would be gone the whole day, for +it was an hour and three-quarters run by road and two by train. + +"I wish he had offered to take you," Jan said to Meg when the big motor +had vanished out of the drive. "It would have been so nice for you to +see Major Morton." + +"And sit bodkin between Hugo and Mr. Withells or on one of those horrid +little folding-seats--no, thank you! When I go to see my poor little +papa I shall go by train by myself. I'll choose a day when their dear +father can help you with the children." + +After lunch Meg began to find fault with Jan's appearance. "I simply +won't see you in that old grey skirt a minute longer--go and put on a +white frock--a nice white frock. You've got plenty." + +"Who is always grumbling about the washing? Besides, I want to garden." + +"You can't garden this afternoon. On such a lovely day it's your duty to +dress in accordance with it. I'm going to clean up my children, and then +we'll all go down to the post-office to buy stamps and show ourselves. +_You_ ought to call on Lady Mary--you know you ought. Go and change, and +then come and see if I approve of you. You might leave a card at the +vicarage, too. I know they're going to the rose show, so you'd be quite +safe." + +"You're a nuisance, Meg," Jan complained. "Let you and little Fay go +swanking down the village if you like, but why can't you leave Tony and +me to potter comfortably in our old clothes?" + +"I'm tired of your old clothes; I want you to look decent for once. You +haven't done anything I asked you for ages. You might as well do this." + +Jan sighed. "It seems rather absurd when you yourself say every soul we +know will be at the flower show." + +"I never said anything of the kind. I said Mrs. Fream was going to the +flower show. Hurry up, Jan." + + * * * * * + +"Well, will I do? Will I satisfy the hedges and ditches, do you think?" +Jan asked later, as she appeared in the hall clad in the white raiment +Meg had commanded. + +Meg turned her round. "Very nice indeed," she said. "I'm glad you put on +the expensive one. It's funny why the very plain things cost such a lot. +I like the black hat with your white hair. Yes, I consent to take you +out; I don't mind owning you for my missus. Children, come and admire +Auntie Jan." + +Jan dutifully delivered a card at the vicarage, and the nursery party +left her to walk up the Manor drive alone. Lady Mary was in, and pleased +to see her, but she only stayed a quarter of an hour, because Meg had +made her promise to meet them again in the village. They were to have +tea in the garden with the children and make it a little festival. + +What a funny little thing Meg was, she thought as she strolled down the +drive under the splendid beeches. So determined to have her own way in +small things, such an incarnation of self-sacrifice in big ones. + +A man was standing just outside the great gates in a patch of black +shade thrown by a holly-tree in the lodge garden. Jan was long-sighted, +and something in the figure and its pose caused her to stop suddenly. He +wore the usual grey summer suit and a straw hat. Yet he reminded her of +somebody, but him she had always seen in a topee, out of doors. + +Of course it was only a resemblance--but what was he waiting there for? + +He moved out from the patch of shade and looked up the drive through the +open gates. He took off his hat and waved it, and came quickly towards +her. + +"I couldn't wait any longer," he said. "I won't be the least bit of a +nuisance. I've come to fish, and I'm staying at 'The Green Hart'.... And +how are you?" + +She could never make it out, when she thought it over afterwards, but +Jan found herself standing with both her hands in his and her beautiful +black parasol tumbled unheeded in the dust. + +"I happened to meet the children and Miss Morton, and they asked me to +tell you they've gone home. They also invited me to tea." + +"So do I," said Jan. + +"I should hardly have known Tony," he continued; "he looks capital. And +as for little Fay--she's a picture, but she always was." + +"Did they know you?" + +"_Did_ they know me!" + +"Were they awfully pleased?" + +"They were ever so jolly; even Tony shouted." + +At the lodge they met the Squire. Jan introduced Peter and explained +that he had just come down for a few days' fishing and was staying at +"The Green Hart." The Squire proffered advice as to the best flies and a +warning that he must not hope for much sport. The Amber was a difficult +river, very; and variable; and it had been a particularly dry June. + +Peter bore up under this depressing intelligence and he and Jan walked +on through warm, scented lanes to Wren's End; and Peter looked at Jan a +good deal. + +Those who happened to be in London during the season of 1914 will +remember that it was a period of powder and paint and frankest +touching-up of complexions. The young and pretty were blackened and +whitened and reddened quite as crudely as the old and ugly. There was no +attempt at concealment. The faces of many Mayfair ladies filled Peter +with disrespectful astonishment. He had not been home for four years, +and then nice girls didn't do that sort of thing--much. + +Now one of Jan's best points was her complexion; it was so fair and +fresh. The touch of sunburn, too, was becoming, for she didn't freckle. + +Peter found himself positively thankful to behold a really clean face; +a face, too, that just then positively beamed with warm welcome and +frank pleasure. + +A clean face; a cool, clean frock; kind, candid eyes and a gentle, +sincere voice--yes, they were all there just as he remembered them, just +as he had so often dreamt of them. Moreover, he decided there and then +that the Georgian ladies knew what they were about when they powdered +their hair--white hair, he thought, was extraordinarily becoming to a +woman. + +"You are looking better than when I was in Bombay. I think your leave +must have done you good already," said the kind, friendly voice. + +"I need a spell of country air, really to set me up," said Peter. + +They had an hilarious tea with the children on the Wren's lawn, and the +tamest of the robins hopped about on the step just to show that he +didn't care a fig for any of them. + +Meg was just going to take the children to bed when Mr. Withells brought +Hugo back. It was an awkward moment. Peter knew far too much about Hugo +to simulate the smallest cordiality; and Hugo was too well aware of some +of the things Peter knew to feel at all comfortable in his presence. But +he had no intention of giving way an inch. He took the chair Meg had +just vacated and sat down. Mr. Withells, too, sat down for a few +minutes, and no sooner had he done so than William dashed out from +amongst them, and, returning, was accompanied by Captain Middleton. + +"No tea, thank you. Just got down from town, came with a message from +my uncle--would Miss Ross's friend care for a rod on the Manor water on +Monday? A brother officer who had been coming had failed at the last +minute--there was room for four rods, but there wasn't a chance of much +sport." + +Miles was introduced to Peter and sat down by him. The children rushed +at Miles and, ably impeded by William, swarmed over him in riotous +welcome, wholly regardless of their nurse's voice which summoned them to +bed. + +Meg stood waiting. + +"Miss Morton's father lives in Cheltenham," Jan said to Mr. Withells, +who seemed rather left out. "She's going to see him on Tuesday--to spend +the day." + +"Then," said Mr. Withells in his clear staccato, "she must take the +9.15--it's much the best train in the day. And the 4.55 back. No other +trains are at all suitable. I hope you will be guided by me in this +matter, Miss Morton. I've made the journey many times." + +So had Meg; but Mr. Withells always irritated her to such an extent that +had it been possible, she would have declared her intention to go and +return by quite different trains. As it was, she nodded pleasantly and +said those were the very trains she had selected. + +Miles thrust his head out from among the encompassing three and +respectfully implored Mr. Withells' advice about trains to Cricklade, +which lay off the Cheltenham route, even going so far as to note the +hours of departure and arrival carefully in a little book. + +Finally Meg came and disencumbered Miles of the children and bore them +away. + +When her voice took on a certain tone it was as useless to cope with Meg +as with Auntie Jan. They knew this, and like wise children gave in +gracefully. + +Elaborate farewells had to be said to everybody, and with a final warm +embrace for Miles, little Fay called to him "Tum and see me in my baff." + +"Captain Middleton will have gone long before you are ready for that," +Meg said inhospitably, and trying to look very tall and dignified she +walked up the three steps leading to the nursery. But it is almost +impossible to look imposing with a lagging child dragging at each hand, +and poor Meg felt that her exit was far from effective. + +William settled himself comfortably across his master's knees and in two +minutes was snoring softly. + +Miles manifested so keen an interest in Mr. Withells' exhibits (he had +got a second prize and a highly commended) that the kindly little man +was quite attracted; and when Miles inquired about trains to Cheltenham +he gave him precisely the same advice that he had given Meg. + + * * * * * * * * + +The station at Amber Guiting is seldom crowded; it's on a shuttle line, +and except on market-day there is but little passenger traffic. + +Therefore a small young lady with rather conspicuously red hair, a neat +grey coat and skirt, a shady grey straw hat trimmed with white clover +and green leaves, and a green parasol, was noticeable upon the platform +out of all proportion to her size. + +The train was waiting. The lady entered an empty third-class carriage, +and sitting in the corner with her back to the engine, shut herself in. +The train departed punctually, and she took out from her bag a note-book +which she studied with frowning concentration. + +Ten minutes further down the line the train stops again at Guiting +Green, and here the young lady looked out of the window to see whether +anyone was travelling that she recognised. + +There was. But it was impossible to judge from the young lady's +expression whether the recognition gave her pleasure or not. + +She drew in her head very quickly, but not before she had been seen. + +"Hullo, Miss Morton! Where are you going? May I get in here?" + +"Aren't you travelling first?" + +"Not a bit of it. Sure you don't mind? How jolly to have met you!" + +Miles looked so smiling, so big and well turned out, and pleased with +life, that Meg's severe expression relaxed somewhat. + +"I suppose," she said, "you're just going to the junction. But why come +to Guiting Green?" + +"I came to Guiting Green because it's exactly four miles from the Manor +House. And I've walked those four miles, Miss Morton, walked 'em for +the good of my health. Wish it wasn't so dusty, though--look at my +boots! _I'm_ going to Cheltenham. Where are you going?" + +"Cheltenham?" Meg repeated suspiciously. "What are you going to do +there?" + +"I'm going to see about a horse--not a dog this time--I hear that +Smith's have got a horse that may suit me; really up to my weight they +say it is, so I took the chance of going over while I'm with my +uncle--it's a lot nearer than town, you know. But where are _you_ +going?" + +"I," said Meg, "am going to Cheltenham----" + +"To Cheltenham!" Miles exclaimed in rather overdone astonishment. "What +an extraordinary coincidence! And what are _you_ going to buy in +Cheltenham?" + +"I am going to see my father. I thought I had told you he lives there." + +"So you did, of course. How stupid of me to forget! Well, it's very +jolly we should happen to be going down together, isn't it?" + +They looked at one another, and Miles laughed. + +"I'm not at all sure that we ought to travel together after we reach the +junction, and I don't believe you've got a third-class ticket." Meg +looked very prim. + +Miles produced his ticket--it _was_ third-class. + +"There!" he said triumphantly. + +"You would be much more comfortable in a smoker." + +"So would you. We'll take a smoker; I've got the sort of cigarette you +like." + +At the junction they got a smoker, and Miles saw to it that they had it +to themselves; he also persuaded the guard to give Meg a square wooden +box to put her feet on, because he thought the seats were too high for +her. + +It seemed a very short journey. + +Major Morton was awaiting Meg when they arrived; a little gentleman +immaculately neat (it was quite clear whence Meg got her love of detail +and finish)--who looked both washed-out and dried-up. He embraced her +with considerable solemnity, exclaiming, "God bless you, my dear child! +You look better than I expected." + +"Papa, dear, here is Captain Middleton, a friend from Amber Guiting. We +happened to travel together." + +"Pleased to meet you, sir," said the little Major graciously; and +somehow Miles contrived in two minutes so to ingratiate himself with +Meg's "poor little papa" that they all walked out of the station +together as a matter of course. + +Then came the question of plans. + +Meg had shopping to do, declared she had a list as long as her arm, but +was entirely at her father's disposal as to whether she should do it +before or after lunch. + +Miles boldly suggested she should do it now, at once, while it was still +fairly cool, and then she could have all her parcels sent to the station +to meet her. He seemed quite eager to get rid of Meg. The little Major +agreed that this would be the best course. He would stroll round to his +club while Meg was shopping, and meet her when she thought she would +have finished. They walked to the promenade and dropped her at Cavendish +House. Miles, explaining that he had to go to Smith's to look at a +horse, asked for directions from the Major. Their way was the same, and +without so much as bidding her farewell, Miles strolled up one of the +prettiest promenades in England in company with her father. Meg felt +rather dazed. + +She prided herself on having reduced shopping to a fine art, but to-day, +somehow, she didn't get through as quickly as usual, and there was a +number of items on her list still unticked when it was time to meet her +father just outside his club at the top of the promenade. + +Major Morton was the essence of punctuality. Meg flew to meet him, and +found he had waited five minutes. He was not, however, upset, as might +have been expected. He took her to his rooms in a quiet terrace behind +the promenade and comfortably near his club. The sun-blinds were down +outside his sitting-room windows, and the room seemed cool and pleasant. + +Then it was that Meg discovered that her father was looking at her in +quite a new way. Almost, in fact, as though he had never seen her +before. + +Was it her short hair? she wondered. + +Yet that was not very noticeable under such a shady hat. + +Major Morton had vigorously opposed the nursemaid scheme. To the +sympathetic ladies who attended the same strictly evangelical church of +which he was a pillar, he confided that his only daughter did not care +for "a quiet domestic life." It was a grief to him--but, after all, +parents are shelved nowadays; every girl wants to "live her own life," +and he would be the last man to stand in the way of his child's +happiness. The ladies felt very sorry for Major Morton and indignant +with the hard-hearted, unfilial Meg. They did not realise that had Meg +lived with her father--in rooms--and earned nothing, the Major's +delicate digestion might occasionally have suffered, and Meg would +undoubtedly have been half-starved. + +To-day, however, he was more hopeful about Meg than he had been for a +long time. Since the Trent episode he had ceased even to imagine her +possible marriage. By her own headstrong folly she had ruined all her +chances. "The weariful rich" who had got her the post did not spare him +this aspect of her deplorable conduct. To-day, however, there was a rift +in these dark clouds of consequence. + +Captain Middleton--he only knows how--had persuaded Major Morton to go +with him to see the horse, had asked his quite useless advice, and had +subtly and insidiously conveyed to the Major, without one single +incriminating sentence, a very clear idea as to his own feelings for the +Major's daughter. + +Major Morton felt cheered. + +He had no idea who Miles really was, but he had remarked the gunner tie, +and, asking to what part of the Royal Regiment Miles belonged, decided +that no mere pauper could be a Horse-Gunner. + +He regarded his daughter with new eyes. + +She was undoubtedly attractive. He discovered certain resemblances to +himself that he had never noticed before. + +Then he informed her that he had promised they would both lunch with her +agreeable friend at the Queen's Hotel: "He made such a point of it," +said Major Morton, "I could hardly refuse; begged us to take pity on his +loneliness, and so on--and I'm feeling rather better to-day." + +Meg decided that the tide of fate was too strong for her, she must just +drift with it. + +It was a most pleasant lunch, save for one incident. Lady Penelope +Pottinger and her husband, accompanied by Lottie Trent and a man, were +lunching at another table. + +Lady Penelope's party came in late. Miles and his guests had already +arrived at coffee when they appeared. + +They had to pass Miles' table, and Lady Penelope stopped; so did her +husband. She shook hands with Meg. Miss Trent passed by with her nose in +the air. + +Miles presented his relations to the Major and they passed on. + +The Major was quite pleased and rather flattered. He had no idea that +the tall young woman with Lady Penelope had deliberately cut his host. +But Meg knew just why she had done it. + +After lunch Miles very properly effaced himself, but made a point of +asking the Major if he might act as Miss Morton's escort on the journey +back to Amber Guiting. + +The Major graciously accompanied Meg while she did the rest of her +shopping, and in the promenade they met the Pottinger party again. + +The 4.55 was crowded. Miles collected Meg's parcels and suggested to the +Major that it would be less tiring for his daughter if they returned +first-class. Should he change the tickets? + +The Major thought it a sensible proposition, especially with all those +parcels. Meg would pay Captain Middleton the difference. + +Again an amiable porter secured them an empty carriage. The parcels +spread themselves luxuriously upon the unoccupied seats. The Major +kissed his daughter and gave her his benediction, shaking hands quite +warmly with her "pleasant young friend." + +The 4.55 runs right up to the junction without a stop. Meg took off her +best hat and placed it carefully in the rack. She leaned her bewildered +head against the cushions and closed her eyes. She would drift with the +tide just a few minutes more, and then---- + +Miles put a box of groceries for Lady Mary under her feet. She smiled +faintly, but did not speak. + +Presently she opened her eyes to find him regarding her with that +expression she had surprised once or twice before, and never understood. + +"Tired?" he asked. + +"Only pleasantly. I think I've only travelled first-class about five +times in my life before--and then it was with Mr. Ross." + +"And now it's with me, and I hope it's the first of many." + +"You say very odd things." + +"What I mean isn't in the least odd--it's the most natural thing in the +world." + +"What is?" + +"To want to go on travelling with you." + +"If you're going to talk nonsense, I shall go to sleep again." + +"No, I don't think I can allow you to go to sleep. I want you to wake up +and face facts." + +"Facts?" + +"A fact." + +"Facts are sometimes very unpleasant." + +"I hope the fact I want you to face isn't exactly that--if it is ... +then I'm ... a jolly miserable chap. Miss Morton--Meg--you must see how +it is with me--you must know that you're dearer to me than anything on +earth. I think your father tumbled to it--and I don't think he minded +... that I should want you for my wife." + +"My poor little papa would be relieved to think that anyone could...." + +"Could what?" + +"Care for me ... in that way." + +"Nonsense! But I'm exceedingly glad to have met your father." + +"Why?" + +"Because I wanted to meet him." + +"Again, why?" + +"Because he's your father." + +"Did you observe that Miss Lotty Trent cut you dead at the Queen's +to-day?" + +"I did notice it, and, like you, I wonder why." + +"I can tell you." + +"I don't think you'd better bother. Miss Trent's opinion of me really +doesn't matter----" + +"It was because you were with me." + +"But what a silly reason--if it is a reason." + +"Captain Middleton, will you answer a question quite truthfully?" + +"I'll try." + +"What have you heard about me in connection with the Trents?" + +"Not much, and that I don't believe." + +"But you must believe it, some of it. It may not be so bad--as it might +have been--but I put myself entirely in the wrong. I deceived Mrs. Trent +and I did a thing no girl in her senses ought to have done." + +"Look here, Meg," said Miles, leaning forward. "I don't want to know +anything you don't choose to tell me; but since you _are_ on the +subject--what did happen between you and that ... and Walter Brooke?" + +Meg, too, leant forward; the express swayed and lurched. Their faces +were very near; their eyes met and held each other in a long, searching +gaze on the one side and an answering look of absolute candour on the +other. + +"I promised to go away with him, and I went away a few miles, and +something came over me that I couldn't go any further, and I broke my +promise and ran away. Jan knows it's true, for it was to them I went. +But the Trents would never believe it, though Mr. Ross saw Mrs. Trent +herself, and told her exactly what had happened. And I daresay ... they +are quite justified." + +"And how many times have you seen him since?" + +"Never till the other day, when he nearly ran over William." + +"And how long ago is it since all this happened?" + +"Nearly six years." + +"Don't you think it's about time you put it all out of your mind?" + +"I had put it out of my mind ... till ... you came." + +"It didn't make any difference to me." + +"I shall never forget that," Meg said, so low that the rattle of the +train wholly drowned her remark, but it couldn't conceal her smile. + +Miles lost his head. He kneeled down plump on the floor of that +compartment and took her in his arms and kissed her. + + * * * * * * * * + +"All the same, I don't believe I can marry you," she said later. + +"Why on earth not?" + +"Because I don't think I'm a suitable wife for you." + +"Surely I'm the best judge of that." + +"No, you're not a judge at all. You think you're in love with me...." + +"I'm hanged if I do--I _know_." + +"Because you're sorry for me----" + +"On the contrary, I'm sorry for myself. I think you're a hard-hearted +... obstinate ... little...." + +Mr. Withells would have been scandalised at the conduct of Miles. He +would undoubtedly have described it as both "insanitary and improper." + +"Oh, please listen!" Meg gasped. "Perhaps a long time hence ... if +you're still of the same mind...." + +"Anyway, may I tell people?" + +"Not a soul. I won't have my Jan worried just now. I've undertaken those +children ... and she's having a bad time with that brother-in-law----" + +"I say, Meg, what is it about that chap Tancred? I can't stick him.... +Is he a bad egg, or what?" + +"He is...." + +"Poor Miss Ross! But why does she have him there?" + +"Oh, it's a long story--and here we are at the junction, and I'm not +going on first to Amber Guiting--so there!" + + * * * * * + +Jan in the pony-cart was waiting outside when Meg came from the little +station. Captain Middleton followed in her train, laden with parcels +like a Father Christmas. + +He packed her and the parcels in, covered both the ladies with the +dust-holland, announced that he had bought a charger, and waited to get +into the Manor motor till they had driven out of the station. + +They neither of them spoke till they had turned into the road. Then Jan +quoted softly: "When I go to see my poor little papa, I shall go by +train _by myself_." + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +A DEMONSTRATION IN FORCE + + +Hugo was dissatisfied. So far, beyond a miserable ten pounds to buy some +clothes, he had got no money out of Jan; and he was getting bored. + +To be sure, he still had most of the ten pounds, for he had gone and +ordered everything in the market-town, where the name of Ross was +considered safe as the Bank of England. So he hadn't paid for anything. + +Then there was that fellow Ledgard--what did he want hanging about, +pretending to fish? He was after Jan and her money, that was his game. + +But however clear Peter Ledgard's nefarious intentions might be, Hugo +confessed his sister-in-law puzzled him. She wasn't nearly as much +afraid of him as he had expected. She was always gentle and courteous, +but under the soft exterior he had occasionally felt a rock of +determination, that was disconcerting. + +He had ceased to harp upon the string of his desolation. Somehow Jan +contrived to show him that she didn't believe in it, and yet she never +said one word to which he could take exception. + +It was awkward that his own people were all of them so unsympathetic +about the children. His father and mother declared themselves to be too +old to undertake them unless Hugo could pay liberally for their board +and for a thoroughly capable nurse. Neither of his sisters would +entertain the idea at all; and both wrote pointing out that until Hugo +was able to make a home for them himself, he would be most foolish to +interfere with the arrangements of a devoted aunt who appeared not only +willing but anxious to assume their entire maintenance. + +He had told his people that his health forced him to relinquish his work +in India. His brothers-in-law, although they had no idea of the real +cause, thought there was something fishy about this, and were +unsympathetic. + +Peter got at the doctor, and the doctor declared sea-air to be the one +thing necessary to insure Hugo's complete restoration to health. Jan +happened to mention that her brother-in-law's people lived in Guernsey, +close to the shore. The doctor said he couldn't do better than go and +stay with them, and that the journey wouldn't hurt him a bit. + +Still Hugo appeared reluctant to leave Wren's End. + +Peter came one day and demanded a business talk with him. It was a most +unpleasant conversation. Peter declared on Jan's behalf that she was +quite ready to help him to some new start in life, but that if it meant +a partnership in any rubber plantation, fruit-farm, or business of any +sort whatsoever, the money required must be paid through her lawyer +directly into the hands of the planter, farmer, or merchant concerned. + +Hugo declared such an offer to be an insult. Peter replied that it was +a great deal better than he deserved or could expect; and that he, +personally, thought Miss Ross very silly to make it; but she did make +it, and attached to its acceptance was a clause to the effect that until +he could show he was in a position to maintain his family in comfort, he +was to give their aunt an undertaking that he would not interfere with +her arrangements for the welfare of the children. + +"I see no reason," said Hugo, "why you should interfere between my +sister-in-law and me, but, of course, any fool could see what you're +after. _You_ want her money, and when you've married her, I suppose my +poor children are to be thrown out into the street, and me too far off +to see after them." + +"Up to now," Peter retorted, "you have shown no particular desire to +'see after' your children. Why are you such a fool, Tancred? Why don't +you thankfully accept Miss Ross's generous offer, and try to make a +fresh start?" + +"It's no business of yours what I do." + +"Certainly not, but your sister-in-law's peace and happiness is my +business, because I have the greatest admiration, respect and liking for +her." + +"_Les beaux yeux de sa cassette_," growled Hugo. + +"You _are_ an ass," Peter said wearily. "And you know very little of +Miss Ross if you haven't seen by this time ..." Peter stopped. + +"Well, go on." + +"No," said Peter, "I won't go on, for it's running my horses on a rock. +Think it over, that's all. But remember the offer does not remain open +indefinitely." + +"Well, and if I choose to refuse it and go to law and _take_ my +children--what then?" + +"No court in England would give you their custody." + +"Why not?" + +"Because you couldn't show means to support them, and we could produce +witnesses to prove that you are not a fit person to have the custody of +children." + +"We should see about that." + +"Well, think it over. It's your affair, you know." And Peter went away, +leaving Hugo to curse and bite his nails in impotent rage. Peter really +was far from conciliatory. + +Jan needed a fright, Hugo decided; that's what she wanted to bring her +to heel. And before very long he'd see that she got it. She shouldn't +shelter herself for ever behind that supercilious beast, Ledgard. Hugo +was quite ready to have been pleasant to Jan and to have met her more +than half-way if she was reasonable, but since she had chosen to bring +Ledgard into it, she should pay. After all, she was only a woman, and +you can always frighten a woman if you go the right way about it. It was +damned bad luck that Ledgard should have turned up just now. It was +Ledgard he'd got to thank that Fay had made that infamously unjust will +by which she left the remnant of her money to her children and not to +her husband. Oh yes! he'd a lot to thank Ledgard for. Well, he wouldn't +like it when Jan got hurt. Ledgard was odd about women. He couldn't +bear to see them worried; he couldn't bear to see Fay worried, +interfered then. A blank, blank, blank interfering chap, Ledgard was. +_What Jan needed was a real good scare._ + +They suggested Guernsey. Well, he'd go to Guernsey, and he wouldn't go +alone. Hugo thoroughly enjoyed a plot. The twilight world that had been +so difficult and perplexing to poor Fay had for him a sort of exciting +charm. Wren's End had become dreadfully dull. For the first week or two, +while he felt so ill, it had been restful. Now its regular hours and +ordered tranquillity were getting on his nerves. All those portraits of +his wife, too, worried him. He could go into no room where the lovely +face, with youth's wistful wonder as to what life held, did not confront +him with a reminder that the wife he had left to die in Bombay did not +look in the least like that. + +There were few things in his life save miscalculation that he regretted. +But he did feel uncomfortable when he remembered Fay--so trustful +always, so ready to help him in any difficulty. People liked her; even +women liked her in spite of her good looks, and Hugo had found the world +a hard, unfriendly place since her death. + +The whole thing was getting on his nerves. It was time to shuffle the +cards and have a new deal. + +He packed his suit-case which had been so empty when he arrived, and +waited for a day when Peter had taken Jan, Meg and the children for a +motor run to a neighbouring town. He took care to see that Earley was +duly busy in the kitchen garden, and the maids safely at the back of the +house. Then he carried it to the lodge gate himself and waited for a +passing tradesman's cart. Fortune favoured him; the butcher came up with +(had Hugo known it) veal cutlets for Hugo's own dinner. Hugo tipped the +butcher and asked him to leave the suit-case at the station to be sent +on as carted luggage to its address. + +Next morning he learned that Tony was to go with Earley to fetch extra +cream from Mr. Burgess' farm. + +It was unfortunate that he couldn't get any of Tony's clothes without +causing comment. He had tried the day before, but beyond a jersey and +two little vests (which happened to be little Fay's), he had been unable +to find anything. Well, Jan would be glad enough to send Tony's clothes +when he let her know where they were to be sent. Tony had changed a good +deal from the silent, solemn child he had disliked in India. He was +franker and more talkative. Sometimes Hugo felt that the child wasn't +such a bad little chap, after all. But the very evident understanding +between Jan and Tony filled Hugo with a dull sort of jealousy. He had +never tried to win the child, but nevertheless he resented the fact that +Tony's attitude to Jan and Meg was one of perfect trust and +friendliness. He never looked at them with the strange judging, weighing +look that Hugo hated so heartily. + +He strolled into the drive and waited. Meg and Jan were busy in the +day-nursery, making the little garments that were outgrown so fast. +Little Fay was playing on the Wren's lawn and singing to herself: + + The fox went out one moonlight night, + And he played to the moon to give him light, + For he had a long way to tlot that night + Before he could leach his den-oh. + +Hugo listened for a minute. What a clear voice the child had. He would +like to have taken little Fay, but already he stood in wholesome awe of +his daughter. She could use her thoroughly sound lungs for other +purposes than song, and she hadn't the smallest scruple about drawing +universal attention to any grievance. Now Tony would never make a scene. +Hugo recognised and admired that quality in his queer little son. He did +not know that Tony already ruled his little life by a categorical +imperative of things a sahib must not do. + +At the drive gate he met Earley carrying the can of cream, with Tony +trotting by his side. + +"I'm going into the village, Tony, and Auntie Jan says you may as well +come with me for company. Will you come?" + +Tony looked dubious. Still, he remembered that Auntie Jan had said he +must try and be kind to poor Daddie, who had been so ill and was so sad. + +"All right," he said with a little sigh, and took the hand Hugo held +out. + +"He'll be quite safe with me, Earley," Hugo said with a pleasant smile. +"Miss Ross knows I'm going to take him." + +Nevertheless Earley went to the back door and asked Hannah to inform her +mistress that "Mr. Tancred had taken Mazter Tony along of 'im." + +Hannah was busy, and serene in her conception of Hugo as the sorrowing +widower, did not think the fact that Tony had gone for a walk with his +own father was worth a journey to the day-nursery. + +"How would you like a ride down to the junction?" Hugo said. "I believe +we could just catch a train if we take the omnibus at 'The Green Hart.' +I want to make inquiries about something for Auntie Jan." + +Tony loved trains; he had only been twice to the junction since he came +to Wren's End; it was a fascinating place. Daddie seemed in an agreeable +mood this morning. Auntie Jan would be pleased that he should be nice to +him. + +It all fell out as if the fates had arranged things for Hugo. They saw +very few people in the village; only one old woman accompanied them in +the bus; he heard his father ask for a ticket to the junction, and they +arrived without incident of any kind. + +The junction, however, was busy. There were quite a lot of people, and +when Hugo went to the ticket-office he had to stand in a queue of others +while Tony waited outside the long row. + +Suddenly Tony began to wonder why his father should go to the +ticket-office at all to inquire for a parcel. Tony was observant, and +just because everything was so different from things in India small +incidents were impressed upon his mind. If his father was going on +anywhere else, he wasn't going; for Peter had promised to take them out +in his car again that afternoon. When Hugo reached the window of the +ticket-office Tony heard something about Paddington. + +That decided him. Nothing would induce him to go to Paddington. + +He pushed his way among the crowd and ran for dear life up the stairs, +and over the bridge to the other platform where the train for Amber +Guiting was still waiting, lonely and deserted. He knew that train. It +went up and down all day, for Amber Guiting was the terminus. No one was +on the platform as he ran along. With the sure instinct of the hunted he +passed the carriages with their shut doors. Right at the end was a van +with empty milk-cans. He had seen a porter putting them in the moment +the train stopped. Tony darted into the van and crouched down between +the milk-cans and the wall. He thought of getting into one of them. The +story of Morgiana and the Forty Thieves was clear in his mind, for Meg +had told it to them the night before. But the cans were so high and +narrow he decided that it was impossible. Someone slammed the door of +the van. There came a bump and a jar, and the train moved out onto a +siding till it should go back to Amber Guiting when the 1.30 from London +came in. Tony sat quite still in the dark, stuffy van. His little heart +was beating with hammer strokes against his ribs, but his face expressed +nothing but scorn. + +Again his father had lied to him. Again he had said he was going to do +one thing when he fully intended to do another. The pleasantness, the +kindliness, the apparent desire for Tony's society were a cheat. Tony +spoke rapidly to himself in Hindustani, and by the time he had finished +expressing his views Hugo Tancred hadn't a shred of character left. + +He didn't know when the train would go back to Amber Guiting. It might +not be till evening. Tony could wait. Some time it would go back, and +once in that dear, safe place all would be well. + +He disliked the sound of Paddington; it had to do with London, he knew. +He didn't mind London, but he wasn't going there with his father, and no +Meg and no Jan and no little Fay and no kind sahibs who were _real_ +sahibs. + +He was very hungry, and his eyes grew a bit misty as he thought of +little Fay consuming scones and milk at the "elevens" Meg was always so +careful they should have. + +A new and troubling thought perturbed him. Did Auntie Jan know he had +gone at all? Would she be frightened? Would she get that look on her +dear face that he couldn't bear to see? That Auntie Jan loved them both +with her whole heart was now one of the fixed stars in Tony's firmament +of beliefs. He began to think that perhaps it would be better for Auntie +Jan to give his father some of her twinkly things and let him go away +and leave them in peace; but he dismissed that thought as cowardly and +unworthy of a sahib. + +Oh, dear! it was very long sitting in the dark, scrunched up behind +those cans. He must tell himself stories to pass the time; and he +started to relate the interminable legend of Cocky-locky and Henny-Penny +who by their superior subtlety evaded the snares set for them by +Toddy-Loddy the fox. He felt a sort of kinship with those harried fowls. +Gradually the constant repetition of the various other birds involved, +"Juckie-Puckie, Goosie-Loosie, Turkey-lurkey and Swannie-Lonnie," had a +soothing effect, and Tony fell asleep. + + * * * * * + +Meanwhile Hugo had hunted through every corner of the four platforms; he +had even gone to look for the Amber Guiting train, but was told it +always was moved on to a siding directly it had discharged its +passengers. + +It was mysterious, it was profoundly annoying, but it was not, to Hugo, +alarming. He suspected that Peter Ledgard was in some way mixed up in +it; that he, himself, had been shadowed and that Peter had stolen Tony +in the crowd. In his mistrustful wrath he endowed Peter with such +abnormal foresight and acumen as he certainly did not possess. + +It really was an impossible situation. Hugo could not go about asking +porters and people for a lost child, or the neighbourhood would be +roused. He couldn't go back to Wren's End without Tony, or there would +be the devil to pay. He even got a porter to look in every carriage of +the side-tracked train for a mythical despatch-case, and accompanied him +in his search. Naturally they didn't seek a despatch-case in the van. + +He had lost his train, but there was another, very slow, about +three-quarters of an hour later, and this he decided to take. He would +telegraph to Jan from London. Somehow he was not in the least concerned +about the fate of Tony. Peter and Peter's car had something to do with +this mysterious disappearance. He was sure of that. + +Well, if this particular deal had failed, he must shuffle the cards and +deal again. In any case Jan should see that where his children were +concerned he was not to be trifled with. + +He was sorry, though, he had bought the half-ticket for Tony, and to ask +them to take it back might cause comment. + +As the slow train steamed out from the junction Hugo felt a very +ill-used man. + + * * * * * + +At eleven o'clock Anne Chitt brought in the tray with two cups of milk +and a plate of Hannah's excellent scones. + +"Please go into the kitchen garden and ask Master Tony to come for his +lunch," Jan said. + +Presently Anne returned. "Master Tony ain't in the garden, miss; and +'Annah says as 'e most likely ain't back yet, miss." + +"Back! Back from where?" + +"Please, miss, 'Annah says as 'is pa've took him with him down the +village." + +Jan laid her sewing on the table and got up. + +"Is Earley in the garden?" + +"Yes, miss. I ast Earley an' 'e says the same as 'Annah. Mr. Tancred +'ave took Master Tony with 'im." + +Anne went away, and Jan and Meg, who had stopped her machining to +listen, stared at each other across the table. + +"I suppose they'll be back directly," Jan said uneasily. "I'll go and +ask Earley when Hugo took Tony." + +"He got up to breakfast to-day for the first time," Meg remarked +irrelevantly. + +Jan went out into the Wrens' garden and through Anthony's gate. She +fumbled at the catch, for her hands trembled. + +Earley was picking peas. + +"What time did Mr. Tancred take Master Tony?" she asked. + +"Just as we got back from fetchin' the cream, miss. I should say as it +was about 'alf-past nine. He did meet us at the lodge, and took the +young gentleman with 'im for company--'e said so." + +"Thank you, Earley," Jan said quietly. + +Earley looked at her and over his broad, good-natured face there passed +a shade of misgiving. "I did tell Hannah to let you know the minute I +cum in, miss." + +"Thank you," Jan said again; "that's quite right." + +"Be you feelin' the 'eat, miss?" Earley asked anxiously. "I don't think +as you ought to be out without an 'at." + +"No, I expect not. I'll go and get one." + +By lunch time there was still no sign of Hugo and Tony; and Jan was +certainly as much scared as even Hugo could have wished. + +Meg had been down to the village and discovered that Hugo and Tony had +gone by bus to the junction in time for the 10.23. + +Peter was playing golf with Squire Walcote on a little course he had +made in some of his fields. It was impossible to go and hunt for Peter +without giving away the whole situation, and Jan was loth to do that. + +She and Meg stared at one another in dismayed impotence. + +Jan ordered the pony-carriage; she would drive to the junction, leaving +a note for Peter at "The Green Hart," but it was only too likely he +would lunch with the Walcotes. + +"You must eat something," said Meg. "There's a train in at a quarter to +two; you'd better meet that before you go to the junction; the guard +might be able to tell you something." + +At lunch little Fay wept because there was no Tony. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +IN WHICH SEVERAL PEOPLE SPEAK THEIR MINDS + + +"After all, you know," Meg said, with intent to comfort, "no great harm +can happen to Tony. Hugo will only take the child a little way off, to +see what he can get out of you." + +"It's the moral harm to Tony that I mind," Jan answered sadly. "He was +getting so happy and trustful, so much more like other children. I know +his father has got him to go away by some ruse, and he will be miserable +and embittered because he has been cheated again." + +"Shall you drive to the junction if you hear nothing at the station?" + +"Yes, I think so, though I've little hope of learning anything there. +You see, people come there from three directions. They couldn't possibly +notice everybody as they do at a little station like this." + +"Wait," said Meg, "don't go to the junction. Have you forgotten Mr. +Ledgard was to fetch us all at half-past two? He'll run you over in his +car in a quarter the time you'd take to go with Placid, and be some use +as well. You'd better come straight back here if you get no news, and +I'll keep him till you get back if he turns up first." + +By this time the pony-cart was at the door. Meg helped Jan in, kissed +her, and whispered, "Cheer up; I feel somehow you'll hear something," +and Jan drove off. She found a boy to hold the pony when she reached the +station, and went in. The old porter was waiting for the train, and she +asked if he happened to notice her little nephew that morning. + +"Yes, miss, I did see 'un along with a holder gentleman unbeknownst to +me." + +Jan walked up and down in an agony of doubt and apprehension. + +The train came in. There were but few passengers, and among them was +Miles, come down again for the week-end. + +He greeted Jan with effusion. Had she come to meet anyone, or was it a +parcel? + +To his astonishment Miss Ross broke from him and rushed at the guard +right up at the far end of the train. + +The guard evidently disclaimed all knowledge of the parcel, for Miles +saw him shaking his head vigorously. + +"Any other luggage, sir?" asked the old porter, lifting out Miles' +suit-case. + +"Yes, a box of rods in the van." + +The old porter went to the end of the train near where Jan had been to +the guard three minutes before. + +He opened the van door and nearly tumbled backward in astonishment, for +right in the doorway, blinking at the light, stood "Miss Rass' young +gen'leman." + +"Well, I am blessed!" exclaimed the porter, and lifted him out. + +Tony was dreadfully dirty. The heat, the dust, the tears he had shed +when he woke up with the putting in of luggage at the junction and +couldn't understand what had happened to him, all combined to make him +about the most miserable-looking and disreputable small boy you could +imagine. He had left his hat behind the milk-cans. + +Jan had gone out of the station. She had passed Miles blindly, and her +face caused that young man to whistle softly, just once. Then he dashed +after her. + +"Your haunt bin askin' for you," the old porter said to Tony. "'Peared +to me she was a bit worried-like." + +Tony moved stiffly down the little station, the old porter following +with Miles' luggage on a truck. + +The ticket-collector stood in the doorway. Tony, of course, had none. +"Don't you say nothin'," whispered the old porter. "'Is haunt'll make it +good; there's some sort of a misteree." + +Tony felt queer and giddy. Jan, already in her little pony-trap, had +started to drive away. Miles, waiting for his baggage beside his uncle's +car, saw the dejected little figure appear in the station entrance. + +He let fly a real barrack-square bellow after Jan, and she pulled up. + +She looked back and saw the reason for Captain Middleton's amazing roar. + +She swung the indignant Placid round, and in two minutes she was out of +the pony-trap and had Tony in her strong arms. + +Miles tipped the porter and drove off. He, too, realised that there was +some sort of a "misteree," something painful and unpleasant for Miss +Ross, and that she would probably prefer that no questions were asked. + +Whatever mischief could that young Tony have been after? And dared Miles +call at Wren's End that evening, in the hope of a glimpse of Meg, or +would it look inquisitive and ill-bred? + +Placid turned a mild, inquiring head to discover the reason for this new +delay. + +When Jan, after paying Tony's fare back from the junction, had driven +away, the old porter, the ticket-collector, and the station-master sat +in conclave on the situation. And their unanimous conclusion was summed +up by the old porter: "Byes be a mishtiful set of young varmints, an' it +warn't no job for a lone 'ooman to 'ave to bring 'em up." + +The lone woman in question held her reins in one hand and her other arm +very tightly round the dirty little boy on the seat beside her. + +As they drove through the village neither of them spoke, but when they +reached the Wren's End Road, Tony burst into tears. + +"I _am_ so hungry," he wailed, "and I feel so nasty in my inside." + + * * * * * + +As Meg was putting him to bed that night she inquired if he had done +anything with his green jersey, for she couldn't find it. + +"No," Tony answered. "I haven't had it for a long time--it's been too +warm." + +"It's very odd," said Meg. "It has disappeared, and so have two vests +of little Fay's that I put in the nursery ottoman to mend. Where can +they be? I hate to lose things; it seems so untidy." + +"I 'spect," said Tony, thoughtfully, "my Daddie took them. He'd never +leave without takin somefin." + + * * * * * + +There was a dinner-party at the Manor House. Peter had come down from +town for it, and this time he was staying at Wren's End. Lady Penelope +and her husband were to dine and sleep at the Manor, likewise Miles, who +had come down with Peter; and Lady Pen contrived thoroughly to upset her +aunt before dinner, by relating how she had met Miles with Miss Morton +and her father in Cheltenham. And poor Lady Mary had been hoping that +the unfortunate affair would die a natural death. She had asked the +prettiest girl in the neighbourhood for Miles to take in, and now, +looking down the table at him, she would have said he was as +well-pleased with his neighbour as any young man could be. The Freams +were there and Mr. Withells, the pretty girl's mamma and a bride and +bridegroom--fourteen in all. A dangerous number to ask, the Squire had +declared; one might so easily have fallen through. No one did, however, +and Peter found himself allotted to Lady Penelope, while Jan's fate was +the bridegroom. "His wife won't be jealous of Miss Ross, you know," Lady +Mary had said while arranging her couples. + +It happened that Peter sat opposite to Jan, and he surveyed her across +the sweet-peas with considerable satisfaction. He had never seen Jan in +what her niece bluntly called "a nekked dless" before. To-night she wore +black, in some soft, filmy stuff from which her fine arms and shoulders +and beautiful neck stood out in challenging whiteness. Her hair, too, +had "pretty twinkly things" in it, and she wore a long chain of small +but well-matched pearls, her father's last gift to her. Yes, Jan was +undoubtedly distinguished, and oh, thank heaven! she _had_ a clean face. + +Beautiful Lady Pen was painted to the eyes, and her maid was not quite +skilful in blending her complexion rightly with her vivid hair; +beautiful hair it was, with a large ripple that was most attractive, but +Mr. Withells, sitting on the other side of Lady Pen, decided that he +didn't approve of her. She was flamboyant and daring of speech. She made +him nervous. He felt sincerely sorry for Pottinger. + +Peter found Lady Pen very amusing, and perhaps she rather neglected her +other neighbour. + +The dinner was excellent and long; and after it the ladies, when they +left the men to smoke, strolled about on the terrace, and Jan found +herself side by side with Lady Penelope. + +"How's your little friend?" she asked abruptly. "I suppose you know my +cousin's playin' round?" + +Jan was a little taller than Lady Pen, and turned her head slowly to +look at her: "I'm afraid I don't quite understand," she said. + +"Surely," Lady Pen retorted, "you must have seen." + +"If you mean that Captain Middleton admires Miss Morton, I believe he +does. But you see, to say that anyone is 'playing round' rather reflects +on me, because she is in my charge." + +"I should say you've got a pretty good handful," Lady Pen said +sympathetically. + +"I don't think you quite understand Miss Morton. I've known her, as it +happens, known her well, for close upon nine years." + +"And you think well of her?" + +"It would be difficult to express how well." + +"You're a good friend, Miss Ross. I had occasion to think so once +before--now I'm pretty sure of it. What's the sayin'--'Time tryeth +thingummy'?" + +"Troth?" Jan suggested. + +"That's it. 'Time tryeth troth.' I never was any good at quotations and +things. But now, look here, I'd like to ask you somethin' rather +particular ..." Lady Pen took Jan's arm and propelled her gently down a +side-walk out of earshot of the others. "Suppose you knew folks--and +they weren't exactly friends, but pleasant, you know, and all that, and +you were aware that they went about sayin' things about a third person +who also wasn't exactly a friend, but ... well, likeable; and you +believed that what the first lot said gave a wrong impression ... in +short, was very damaging--none of it any business of yours, mind--would +you feel called upon to do anything?" + +The two tall women stopped and faced one another. + +The moon shone full on Lady Pen's beautiful painted face, and Jan saw, +for the first time, that the eyes under the delicately darkened eyebrows +were curiously like Miles'. + +"It's always tiresome to interfere in other people's business," said +Jan, "but it's not quite fair, is it, not to stand up for people if you +believe an accusation to be untrue--whether you like them or not. You +see, it may be such a serious thing for the person implicated." + +"I believe you're right," said Lady Pen, "but oh, lord! what a worry it +will be." + +Lady Mary called to them to come, for the bride was going to sing. + +The bride's singing was not particularly pleasing, and she was followed +by Miles, who performed "Drake's Drum," to his aunt's rather uncertain +accompaniment, in a voice that shook the walls. Poor Mr. Withells fled +out by the window, and sat on the step on his carefully-folded +handkerchief, but even so the cold stones penetrated, and he came in +again. + +And after "Drake's Drum" it was time to go home. + +Jan and Peter walked back through the scented night, Peter carrying her +slippers in a silk bag, for the sternly economical Meg wouldn't hear of +wasting good sude slippers at 22s. 6d. a pair by walking half a mile in +them, no matter how dry it was. + +When all the guests had gone, Lady Pen seized Miles by the arm and +implored him to take her outside for a cigarette. "That little Withells +had given her the hump." + +Lady Mary said it was bed-time and the servants wanted to lock up. The +Squire and Mr. Pottinger melted away imperceptibly to smoke in peace +elsewhere. + +Lady Pen, still holding Miles in an iron grip, pulled him over to the +door, which she shut, led him back, and stood in front of Lady Mary, who +was just going to ring for the servants to shut the windows. + +"Wait a minute, Aunt Mary. I've got somethin' to say, and I want to say +it before Miles." + +"Oh, don't let us go into all that to-night," Lady Mary implored, "if +what you have to say has anything to do with what you told me before +dinner." + +"It has and it hasn't. One thing I've decided is that I've got to tell +the Trents they are liars; and the other thing is that, though I +disapprove with all my strength of the game Miles is playing, I believe +that little girl is square...." + +"You see," Lady Pen went on, turning to Miles, "I've repeated things to +Aunt Mary that I heard from the Trents lately--but I heard a different +story at the time--and though I think you, Miles, are throwing yourself +away, I won't be a party to spreadin' lies. Somethin' that _poudre_ +woman with the good skin said to-night made me feel a swab----" + +"I'm glad you've spoken up like this, Pen," Miles said slowly, "for if +you hadn't, we couldn't have been friends any more. I promised Meg I +wouldn't tell anybody--but I've asked her to marry me ... and though she +isn't over keen, I believe I'll get her to do it some day." + +"Isn't over keen?" Lady Mary repeated indignantly. "Why, she ought to be +down on her knees with joy!" + +Miles laughed. "She's not a kneeling sort, Aunt Mary. It's I who'll have +to do the kneeling, I can tell you." + +Lady Pen was looking straight at her cousin with the beautiful candid +eyes that were so like his own. "Just for curiosity," she said slowly, +"I'd dearly like to know if Meg Morton ever said anything to you about +me--anything rather confidential--I won't be offended, I'd just like to +know." + +"About you?" Miles echoed in a puzzled voice. + +"About my appearance, you know--my looks." + +"I think she called you good-looking, like everybody else, but I don't +remember that she was specially enthusiastic. To tell you the honest +truth, Pen, we've had other things to talk about than you." + +"Now listen, you two," said Lady Pen. "That little girl is straight. You +won't understand, Miles, but Aunt Mary will. Meg Morton knew I was +against her--about you, Miles--women always know these things. And yet +she held her tongue when she could have said something true that I'd +rather not have talked about. You'll hold your tongue, old chap, and so +will Aunt Mary. I've got her hair; got it on this minute. That's why +she's such a croppy." + +Lady Mary sat down on the nearest chair and sighed deeply. + +"It's been a real satisfaction to me, this transformation, because I +know where it came from." + +Miles took his cousin's hand and kissed it. "If somebody had to have it, +I'm glad it's you," he said. + +"Yes, she's straight," Lady Pen repeated. "I don't believe there's many +girls who would have kept quiet--not when the man they cared about was +being got at. You may ring now, Aunt Mary. I'm through. Good night." + + * * * * * * * * + +"Do you realise," said Peter as they turned out of the dark Manor drive +into the moonlit road, "that I've been here on and off over a month, and +that we are now nearly at the end of July?" + +"You've only just come to _us_," said Jan. "You can't count the time you +stayed at 'The Green Hart' as a visit." + +"And now I have come ... I'm not quite sure I've done wisely, +unless...." + +"Unless what?" + +"Unless I can put something through that I came back from India to do." + +Jan did not answer. They walked on in silence, and Peter looked at the +moon. + +"I think," he said, "you've always had a pretty clear idea why I came +home from India ... haven't you?" + +"It was time for your leave," Jan said nervously. "It isn't good to +stay out there too long." + +"I shouldn't have taken leave this year, though, if it hadn't been for +you." + +"You've always been kind and helpful to me ... I hope it hasn't been +very ... inconvenient." + +Peter laughed, and stopped in the middle of the road. + +"I'm fond of fencing," he said lightly, "and free play's all very well +and pretty; but I've always thought that the real thing, with the +buttons off the foils, must have been a lot more sport than anything we +get now." + +Again Jan was silent. + +"You've fenced with me, Jan," he said slowly, "ever since I turned up +that day unexpectedly. Now, I want a straight answer. Do you care at +all, or have you only friendship for me? Look at me; tell me the truth." + +"It's all so complicated and difficult," she faltered, and her eyes fell +beneath Peter's. + +"What is?" + +"This caring--when you aren't a free agent." + +"Free fiddlestick! You either care or you don't--which is it?" + +"I care a great deal too much for my own peace of mind," said Jan. + +"I am quite satisfied," said Peter. And if Mr. Withells had seen what +happened to the "sensible" Miss Ross just then, his neatly-brushed hair +would have stood straight on end. + +In the road, too! + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +AUGUST, 1914 + + +"No," said Jan, "it would be like marrying a widow ... with +encumbrances." + +"But you don't happen to be a widow--besides, if you were, and had a +dozen encumbrances, if we want to get married it's nobody's business but +our own." + +Peter spoke testily. He wanted Jan to marry him before he went back to +India in October, and if he got the billet he hoped for, to follow him, +taking the two children out, early in November. + +But Jan saw a thousand lions in the way. She was pulled in this +direction and that, and though she knew she had got to depend on Peter +to--as she put it--"a dreadful extent," yet she hesitated to saddle him +with her decidedly explosive affairs, without a great deal more +consideration than he seemed disposed to allow her. + +Hugo, for the present, was quiet. He was in Guernsey with his people, +and beyond a letter in which he directly accused Peter Ledgard of +abducting Tony when his father was taking him to visit his grandparents, +Jan had heard nothing. + +By Peter's advice she did not answer this letter. But they both knew +that Hugo was only waiting to make some other and more unpleasant +demonstration than the last. + +"You see," Jan began again, "I've got so many people to think of. The +children and Meg and the house and all the old servants.... You mustn't +hustle me, dear." + +"Yes, I see all that; but I've got _you_ to think of, and if we're +married and anything happens to me you'll get your pension, and I want +you to have that." + +"And if anything happened to me, you'd be saddled with the care of two +little children who've got a thoroughly unsatisfactory father, who can +always make life hateful for them and for you. No, Peter, it wouldn't be +fair--we must wait and see how things work out." + +"At present," Peter said gloomily, "it looks as if things were working +out to a fair bust-up all round." + +This was on the 30th of July. + +Peter went up to London, intending to return on the first to stay over +the Bank Holiday, but he did not come. He wanted to be within easy reach +of recalling cablegram. + +Meg got a wire from Miles on Saturday: "Try to come up for to-morrow and +Monday I can't leave town must see you." + +And half an hour after it, came a note from Squire Walcote, asking her +to accept his escort, as he and Lady Mary were going up to the +Grosvenor, and hoped Meg would be their guest. + +It was during their stay in London that Lady Mary and the Squire got the +greatest surprise of their whole lives. + +Miles, looking bigger than ever in uniform, rushed in and demanded an +interview with Meg alone in their private room. He showed her a special +licence, and ordered, rather than requested, that she should marry him +at once. + +"I can't," she said, "it's no use asking me ... I _can't_." + +"Listen; have you any objection to me?" + +Meg pulled a little away from him and pretended to look him up and down. +"No ... in fact ... I love every bit of you--especially your boots." + +"Have you thought how likely it is that I may not come back ... if +there's war?" + +"Don't!" said Meg. "Don't put it into words." + +"Then why won't you marry me, and let me feel that, whether I'm killed +or not, I've had the thing I wanted most in this world?" + +"Dear, I can't help it, but I feel if I married you now ... you would +never come back ... but if I wait ... if I don't try to grasp this +wonderful thing too greedily ... it will come to us both. I _daren't_ +marry you, Miles." + +"Suppose I'm all smashed up ... I couldn't ask you then ... suppose I +come back minus an arm or a leg, or blind or something?" + +"If the least little bit of you comes back, I'll marry that; not you or +anyone else could stop me then." + +"You'd make it easier all round if you'd marry me now...." + +"That's it ... I don't want it to be easier. If I was your wife, how +could I go on being nurse to those children?" + +"I wouldn't stop you--you could go back to Miss Ross and do just +exactly what you're doing. I agree with you--the children are +cheery----" + +Meg shook her head. "No; if I was your wife, it wouldn't do. As it is +... the nursemaid has got her soldier, and that's as it should be." + +"Will you marry me the first leave I get, if I live to get any?" + +"I'll think about that." + +He gave her the ring she had refused before. Such an absurd little ring, +with its one big sapphire set with diamonds, and "no backing to it," +Miles said. + +And he gave her a very heavy brass-studded collar for William, and on +the plate was engraved her name and address. + +"You see," he explained, "Miss Ross would never really have him, and I'd +like to think he was your dog. And here's his licence." + +Then Miles took her right up in his arms and hugged her close, and set +her gently down and left her. + +That night he asked his uncle and a brother-officer to witness his will. +He had left most of his money among his relations, but twenty thousand +pounds he had left to Meg absolutely, in the event of his being killed +before they were married. + +His uncle pointed out that there was nothing said about her possible +marriage. "She'll be all the better for a little money of her own if she +does marry," Miles said simply. "I don't want her to go mourning all her +days, but I do want the capital tied up on her so that he couldn't +waste it ... if he was an unfortunate sort of chap over money." + +The Squire blew his nose. + +"You see," Miles went on, "she's a queer little thing. If I left her too +much, she'd refuse it altogether. Now I trust to you, Uncle Edward, to +see that she takes this." + +"I'll do my best, my boy, I'll do my best," said the Squire; "but I hope +with all my soul you'll make settlements on her yourself before long." + +"So do I, but you never can tell in war, you know. And we must always +remember," Miles added with his broad, cheerful smile, "there's a good +deal of target about me." + +Miles wrote to the little Major, a very manly, straightforward letter, +telling him what he had done, but swearing him to secrecy as regarded +Meg. + +He also wrote to Jan, and at the end, he said, "I am glad she is to be +with you, because you really apreciate her." + +The one "p" in "appreciate" fairly broke Jan down. It was so like Miles. + +Meg, white-faced and taciturn, went back to Wren's End on Tuesday night. +The Squire and Lady Mary remained in town. + +In answer to Jan's affectionate inquiries, Meg was brief and +business-like. Yes; she had seen Miles several times. He was very busy. +No, she did not expect to see him again before ... he left. Yes; he was +going with the First Army. + +Jan asked no more questions, but was quietly, consistently kind. Meg +was adorable with her children and surpassed herself in the telling of +stories. + +The First Army left England for Flanders with the silence of a shadow. + +But Meg knew when it left. + +That night, Jan woke about one o'clock, conscious of a queer sound that +she could neither define nor locate. + +She sat up in bed to listen, and arrived at the conclusion that it came +from the day-nursery, which was below her room. + +Tony was sleeping peacefully. Jan put on her dressing-gown and went +downstairs. The nursery door was not shut, and a shaft of light shone +through it into the dark hall. She pushed it open a little way and +looked in. + +Meg was sitting at the table, making muslin curtains as if her life +depended on it. She wore her nightgown, and over it a queer little +Japanese kimono of the green she loved. Her bare feet were pillowed upon +William, who lay snoring peacefully under the table. + +Her face was set and absorbed. A grave, almost stern, little face. And +her rumpled hair, pushed back from her forehead, gave her the look of a +Botticelli boy angel. It seemed to merge into tongues of flame where the +lamplight caught it. + +The window was wide open and the sudden opening of the door caused a +draught, though the night was singularly still. + +The lamp flickered. + +Meg rested her hand on the handle of the sewing-machine, and the +whirring noise stopped. She saw Jan in the doorway. + +"Dear," said Jan gently, standing where she was, half in and half out of +the door, "are you obliged to do this?" + +Meg looked at her, and the dumb pain in that look went to Jan's heart. + +Jan came towards her and drew the flaming head against her breast. + +"I'm sorry I disturbed you," Meg murmured, "but I was _obliged_ to do +something." + +William stirred at the voices, and turning his head tried to lick the +little bare feet resting on his back. + +"Dearest, I really think you should go back to bed." + +"Very well," said Meg meekly. "I'll go now." + +"He," Jan continued, "would be very angry if he thought you were making +curtains in the middle of the night." + +"He," Meg retorted, "is absurd--and dear beyond all human belief." + +"You see, he left you in my charge ... what will he say if--when he +comes back--he finds a haggard Meg with a face like a threepenny-bit +that has seen much service?" + +"All right, I'm coming." + +When Meg got back to her room, she went and leaned over little Fay +sleeping in the cot beside her bed. Rosy and beautiful, warm and +fragrant, the healthy baby brought comfort to Meg's stricken heart. + +Perhaps--who knows--the tramp of that silent army sounded in little +Fay's ears, for she stretched out her dimpled arms and caught Meg round +the neck. + +"Deah Med!" she sighed, and was still. + +William stood at attention. + +Presently Meg knelt down by her bed, and according to the established +ritual he thrust his head into her encircling arm. + +"Pray for your master, William," Meg whispered. "Oh, William, pray for +your master as you never prayed before." + + * * * * * * * * + +The strange tense days went on in August weather serene and lovely as +had not been seen for years. Young men vanished from the country-side +and older men wistfully wondered what they could do to help. + +Peter came down from Saturday to Monday, telling them that every officer +and every civilian serving in India was recalled, but he had not yet +learned when he was to sail. + +They were sitting in the wrens' garden with the children. + +"Earley's going," Tony said importantly. + +"Earley!" Jan exclaimed. "Going where?" + +"To fight, of course," little Fay chimed in. + +"Oh, poor dear Earley!" Jan sighed. + +"Happy, fortunate Earley," said Peter. "I wish I stood in his shoes." + +Earley joined the Gloucesters because, he said, "he couldn't abear to +think of them there Germans comin' anigh Mother and them childring and +the ladies; and he'd better go and see as they didn't." + +Mr. Withells called the men on his place together and told them that +every man who joined would have his wages paid to his wife, and his wife +or his mother, as the case might be, could stop on in her cottage. And +Mr. Withells became a special constable, with a badge and a truncheon. +But he worried every soldier that he knew with inquiries as to whether +there wasn't a chance for him in _some_ battalion: "I've taken great +care of my health," he said. "I do exercises every day after my bath; +I'm young-looking for my age, don't you think? And anyway, a bullet +might find me instead of a more useful man." + +No one laughed then at Mr. Withells and his exercises. + +Five days after the declaration of war Jan got a letter from Hugo +Tancred. He was in London and was already a private in a rather famous +cavalry regiment. + +"They didn't ask many questions," he wrote, "so I hadn't to tell many +lies. You see, I can ride well and understand horses. If I get knocked +out, it won't be much loss, and I know you'll look after Fay's kiddies. +If I come through, perhaps I can make a fresh start somewhere. I've +always been fond of a gamble, and this is the biggest gamble I've ever +struck." + +Jan showed the letter to Peter, who gave it back to her with something +like a groan: "Even the wrong 'uns get their chance, and yet I have to +go back and do a deadly dull job, just because it _is_ my job." + +Peter went up to town and two days after came down again to "The Green +Hart" to say good-bye. He had got his marching orders and was to sail in +the _Somali_ from Southampton. Some fifteen hundred civilians and +officers serving in India were sailing by that boat and the _Dongola_. + +By every argument he could bring forward he tried to get Jan to marry +him before he sailed. Yet just because she wanted to do it so much, she +held back. She, too, she kept telling herself, had her job, and she knew +that if she was Peter's wife, nothing, not even her dear Fay's children, +could be of equal importance with Peter. + +The children and Meg and the household had by much thinking grown into a +sort of Frankenstein's monster of duty. + +Her attitude was incomprehensible to Peter. It seemed to him to be +wrong-headed and absurd, and he began to lose patience with her. + +On his last morning he sought and found her beside the sun-dial in the +wrens' garden. + +Meg had taken little Fay to see Lady Mary's Persian kittens, but Tony +preferred to potter about the garden with the aged man who was trying to +replace Earley. William was not allowed to call upon the kittens, as +Fatima, their mother, objected to him vehemently, and Tony cared to go +nowhere if William might not be of the party. + +Peter came to Jan and took both her hands and held them. + +"It's the last time I shall ask you, my dear. If you care enough, we +can have these last days together. If you don't I must go, for I can't +bear any more of this. Either you love me enough to marry me before I +sail or you don't love me at all. Which is it?" + +"I do love you, you know I do." + +"Well, which is it to be?" + +"Peter, dear, you must give me more time. I haven't really faced it all. +I can't do anything in such a hurry as that." + +Peter looked at her and shook his head. + +"You don't know what caring is," he said. "I can't stand any more of +this. Do you see that motto on the sun-dial: 'I bide my time'--I've read +it and read it, and I've said it over to myself and waited and hoped to +move you. Now I can't wait any more." + +He kissed her, dropped her hand, and turning from her went out through +the iron gate and down the drive. For a moment Jan stood by the sun-dial +as though she, too, were stone. + +Then blindly she went up the steps into the empty nursery and sat down +on an old sofa far back in the room. She leaned face-downward against +the cushions, and great, tearing sobs broke from her. + +Peter was gone. He would never come back. She had driven him from her. +And having done so she realised that he was the one person in the world +she could not possibly do without. + +Tony's own hen had laid an egg. Carrying it very carefully in a +cabbage-leaf, he went, accompanied by the faithful William, to show it +to Auntie Jan, and was just in time to see Peter going down the drive. + +He went through the wrens' garden and in by the window. For a moment he +didn't see his aunt; and was turning to go again when a strange sound +arrested him, and he saw her all huddled up at the head of the sofa, +with hidden face and heaving shoulders. + +He laid his egg on the table and went and pulled at her arm. + +"What is the matter?" he asked anxiously. "And why has Peter gone?" + +Jan raised her head; pride and shame and self-consciousness were dead in +her: "He's gone," she sobbed. "He won't come back, and I shall never be +happy any more," and down went her head again on her locked arms. + +Tony did not attempt to console her. He ran from the room, and Jan felt +that this was only an added pang of abandonment. + +Down the drive ran Tony, with William galumphing beside him. But William +was not happy, and squealed softly from time to time. He felt it unkind +to leave a poor lady crying like that, and yet was constrained to go +with Tony because Meg had left him in William's charge. + +Tony turned out of the gate and into the road. + +Far away in the distance was a man's figure striding along with +incredible swiftness. Tony started to run all he knew. Now, seldom as +William barked, he barked when people ran, and William's bark was so +deep and sonorous and distinctive that it caused the swiftly striding +man to turn his head. He turned his body, too, and came back to meet +Tony and William. + +Tony was puffed and almost breathless, but he managed to jerk out: "You +must go back; she's ... crying dreadful. You _must_ go back. Go quick; +don't wait for us." + +Peter went. + + * * * * * + +Jan very rarely cried. When she did it hurt fiercely and absorbed all +her attention. She was crying now as if she would never stop. If people +seldom cry it has a devastating effect on their appearance when they do. +Jan's eyelids were swollen, her nose scarlet and shiny, her features all +bleared and blurred and almost scarred by tears. + +Someone touched her gently on the shoulder, and she looked up. + +"My dear," said Peter, "you must not cry like this. I was losing my +temper--that's why I went off." + +Jan sprang to her feet and flung her arms round his neck. She pressed +her ravaged face against his: "I'll do anything you like," she +whispered, "if you'll only like it. I can't stand by myself any more." + +This was true, for as she spoke her knees gave under her. + +Peter held her close. Never had Jan looked less attractive and never had +Peter loved her more, or realised so clearly how dear and foolish and +wise and womanly she was. + +"You see," she sobbed, "you said yourself everyone _must_ do his job, +and I thought----" + +"But surely," said Peter, "I _am_ your job--part of it, anyway." + +Jan sobbed now more quietly, with her head against his shoulder. + +Tony and William came and looked in at the window. + +His aunt was still crying, crying hard, though Peter was there close +beside her, very close indeed. + +Surely this was most unreasonable. + +"She said," Tony remarked accusingly to Peter, "she was crying because +you had gone, so I ran to fetch you back. And now I _have_ fetched you, +she's crying worse nor ever." + +But William Bloomsbury knew better. William had cause to know the +solitary bitter tears that hurt. These tears were different. + +So William wagged his tail and ran into the room, jumping joyously on +Peter and Jan. + + + + +[Transcriber's Note: + + +The following corrections were made: + +p. 44: Daddy to Daddie, to match all other occurrences (Daddie was very +daylight.) + +p. 113: log to long (long grey dust-cloak) + +p. 113: froward to forward (Anthony came forward) + +p. 118: bread-an-butter to bread-and-butter (several pieces of +bread-and-butter) + +p. 152: minunte to minute (pondered this for a minute) + +p. 284: quit to quick ("I came as quick as I could,") + +p. 318: fluttered to flattered (rather flattered) + +In the Latin-1 plain text version, an a-macron and an o-breve have been +removed from the word Jao! (p. 196). + +Inconsistencies in hyphenation (e.g. country-side vs. countryside) have +not been changed. All dialect and "baby talk" has been left as in the +original. Two different types of thought breaks were used in the +original: extra whitespace between paragraphs (represented by 5 spaced +asterisks in this text) and a line of 8 spaced asterisks (left as in the +original.) Ellipses match the original, even when inconsistent. The +exception is when they occur at the end of a paragraph, where they are +always accompanied by a period.] + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Jan and Her Job, by L. 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Allen Harker + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Jan and Her Job + +Author: L. Allen Harker + +Release Date: September 9, 2009 [EBook #29945] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JAN AND HER JOB *** + + + + +Produced by Robert Cicconetti, S.D., and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<h1 class="first">JAN AND HER JOB</h1> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 325px;"> +<a name="Frontispiece" id="Frontispiece"></a> +<a href="images/frontis-lg.jpg" class="noline"> +<img src="images/frontis-thumb.jpg" width="261" height="400" alt="" title="Frontispiece" /> +<span class="caption u"><br />"But surely," said Peter, "I <em>am</em> your job—part of it, +anyway."</span></a> +</div> + +<div class="tp"> +<h1>JAN AND HER JOB</h1> + +<p class="center sm">BY</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="lgr wide">L. ALLEN HARKER</span><br /> +<span class="smr">AUTHOR OF "A ROMANCE OF THE NURSERY"; "MISS ESPERANCE AND MR. WYCHERLY";<br /> +"MR. WYCHERLY'S WARDS"; "THE FFOLLIOTS OF REDMARLEY," ETC.</span></p> + +<p class="center sm pad-tb">ILLUSTRATED</p> + +<p class="center">NEW YORK<br /> +CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS<br /> +<span class="sm">1917</span></p> +</div> + +<p class="center smcap"> +Copyright, 1917, by<br /> +Charles Scribner's Sons</p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 45px;"> +<img class="decoline" src="images/short-line-thin.png" width="45" height="1" alt="" title="" /> +</div> +<p class="center">Published March, 1917</p> + +<div class="ded"> +<p class="center">TO<br /> +F. R. P.</p> + +<p>"<i>Chary of praise and prodigal of counsel—<br /> +Who but thou?</i>"</p> + +<p class="ralign">R. L. S.</p> +</div> + +<p><!-- Page vii --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[vii]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="front"><i>CONTENTS</i></h2> + +<table class="smcap" cellspacing="4" summary="Table of Contents"> + +<tr class="sm"><td colspan="2" class="pad-l">CHAPTER</td><td align="right">PAGE</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right">I.</td> <td>Jan</td> <td align="right"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">II.</td> <td>Jan's Mail</td> <td align="right"><a href="#Page_13">13</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">III.</td> <td>Bombay</td> <td align="right"><a href="#Page_19">19</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">IV.</td> <td>The Beginning of the Job</td> <td align="right"><a href="#Page_39">39</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">V.</td> <td>The Children</td> <td align="right"><a href="#Page_52">52</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">VI.</td> <td>The Shadow Before</td> <td align="right"><a href="#Page_62">62</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">VII.</td> <td>The Human Touch</td> <td align="right"><a href="#Page_78">78</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">VIII.</td> <td>The End of the Dream</td> <td align="right"><a href="#Page_91">91</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">IX.</td> <td>Meg</td> <td align="right"><a href="#Page_97">97</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">X.</td> <td>Plans</td> <td align="right"><a href="#Page_124">124</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XI.</td> <td>The State of Peter</td> <td align="right"><a href="#Page_139">139</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XII.</td> <td>"The Best-Laid Schemes"</td> <td align="right"><a href="#Page_149">149</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XIII.</td> <td>The Wheels of Chance</td> <td align="right"><a href="#Page_162">162</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XIV.</td> <td>Perplexities</td> <td align="right"><a href="#Page_173">173</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XV.</td> <td>Wren's End</td> <td align="right"><a href="#Page_184">184</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XVI.</td> <td>"The Bludgeonings of Chance"</td> <td align="right"><a href="#Page_201">201</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XVII.</td> <td>"Though an Host Should Encamp Against + Me"</td> <td align="right"><a href="#Page_212">212</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right"><!-- Page viii --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[viii]</a></span> +XVIII.</td> <td>Meg and Captain Middleton</td> <td align="right"><a href="#Page_220">220</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XIX.</td> <td>The Young Idea</td> <td align="right"><a href="#Page_240">240</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XX.</td> <td>"One Way of Love"</td> <td align="right"><a href="#Page_252">252</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXI.</td> <td>Another Way of Love</td> <td align="right"><a href="#Page_261">261</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXII.</td> <td>The Encampment</td> <td align="right"><a href="#Page_276">276</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXIII.</td> <td>Tactics</td> <td align="right"><a href="#Page_287">287</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXIV.</td> <td>"The Way of a Man with a Maid"</td> <td align="right"><a href="#Page_303">303</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXV.</td> <td>A Demonstration in Force</td> <td align="right"><a href="#Page_325">325</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXVI.</td> <td>In Which Several People Speak Their Minds</td> <td align="right"><a href="#Page_339">339</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXVII.</td> <td>August, 1914</td> <td align="right"><a href="#Page_351">351</a></td></tr> +</table> + +<h2 class="front"><i>ILLUSTRATIONS</i></h2> + +<table cellspacing="4" summary="List of Illustrations"> + +<tr><td class="hang">"But surely," said Peter, "I <em>am</em> your job—part of it, +anyway"</td> <td align="right"><i><a href="#Frontispiece">Frontispiece</a></i></td></tr> + +<tr><td></td> +<td align="right" class="sm">FACING<br /> PAGE</td></tr> + +<tr><td class="hang">"It would make it easier for both of us if you'd face it, +my dear"</td> <td align="right"><a href="#easier">66</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="hang">He washed his small sister with thoroughness and despatch, +pointing out ... that he "went into all the +corners"</td> <td align="right"><a href="#washed">156</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="hang">William rushed out to welcome the strangers. Two ... +nice children</td> <td align="right"><a href="#William">188</a></td></tr> +</table> + +<p><!-- Page 1 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> + +<h1 class="chap1">JAN AND HER JOB</h1> + +<h2>CHAPTER I<br /> +<span class="sub">JAN</span></h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">S</span>HE was something of a puzzle to the other +passengers. They couldn't quite place her. +She came on board the P. and O. at Marseilles. +Being Christmas week the boat was not crowded, +and she had a cabin to herself on the spar deck, +so there was no "stable-companion" to find out +anything about her.</p> + +<p>The sharp-eyed Australian lady, who sat opposite +her at the Purser's table, decided that she +was not married, or even engaged, as she wore +no rings of any kind. Besides, her name, "Miss +Janet Ross," figured in the dinner-list and was +plainly painted on her deck-chair. At meals she +sat beside the Purser, and seemed more or less +under his wing. People at her table decided that +she couldn't be going out as a governess or she +would hardly be travelling first class, and yet +she did not look of the sort who globe-trot all +by themselves.</p> + +<p>Rather tall, slender without being thin, she +moved well. Her ringless hands were smooth +and prettily shaped, so were her slim feet, and +always singularly well-shod.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 2 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span></p><p>Perhaps her chief outward characteristic was +that she looked delightfully fresh and clean. Her +fair skin helped to this effect, and the trim suitability +of her clothes accentuated it. And yet +there was nothing challenging or particularly noticeable +in her personality.</p> + +<p>Her face, fresh-coloured and unlined, was rather +round. Her eyes well-opened and blue-grey, long-sighted +and extremely honest. Her hair, thick +and naturally wavy, had been what hairdressers +call "mid-brown," but was now frankly grey, +especially round the temples; and the grey hair +puzzled people, so that opinions differed widely +regarding her age.</p> + +<p>The five box-wallahs (gentlemen engaged in +commercial pursuits are so named in the East to +distinguish them from the Heaven-Born in the +various services that govern India), who, with the +Australian lady, sat opposite to her at table, decided +that she was really young and prematurely +grey. Between the courses they diligently took +stock of her. The Australian lady disagreed with +them. She declared Miss Ross to be middle-aged, +to look younger than she was. In this the +Australian lady was quite sincere. She could not +conceive of any <em>young</em> woman neglecting the +many legitimate means that existed of combating +this most distressing semblance—if semblance it +was—of age.</p> + +<p>The Australian lady set her down as a well-preserved +forty at least.</p> + +<p>Mr. Frewellen, the oldest and crossest and +greediest of the five box-wallahs, declared that<!-- Page 3 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span> +he would lay fifteen rupees to five annas that +she was under thirty; that her eyes were sad, and +it was probably trouble that had turned her hair. +At his time of life, he could tell a young woman +when he saw one. No painted old harridan could +deceive <em>him</em>. After all, if Miss Ross <em>had</em> grey +hair, she had plenty of it, and it was her own. +But Mr. Frewellen, who sat directly opposite her, +was prejudiced in her favour, for she always let +him take her roll if it was browner than his own. +He also took her knife if it happened to be sharper +than the one he had, and he insisted on her +listening to his incessant grumbling as to the +food, the service, the temperature, and the general +imbecility and baseness of his fellow-creatures.</p> + +<p>Like the Ancient Mariner, he held her with his +glittering spectacles. Miss Ross trembled before +his diatribes. He spoke in a loud and rumbling +voice, and made derogatory remarks about the +other passengers as they passed to their respective +tables. She would thankfully have changed hers, +but that it might have seemed ungrateful to the +Purser, into whose charge she had been given by +friends; and the Purser had been most kind and +attentive.</p> + +<p>The Australian lady was sure that the Purser +knew more about Miss Ross than he would acknowledge—which +he did. But when tackled by +one passenger about another, he was discreet or +otherwise in direct ratio to what he considered +was the discretion of the questioner. And he +was a pretty shrewd judge of character. He had<!-- Page 4 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span> +infinite opportunities of so judging. A sea-voyage +lays bare many secrets and shows up +human nature at its starkest.</p> + +<p>Janet Ross did not seek to make friends, but +kindly people who spoke to her found her pleasant +and not in the least disposed to be mysterious +when questioned, though she never volunteered +any information about herself. She was a +good listener, and about the middle of any voyage +that is a quality supplying a felt want. Mankind +in general finds his own doings very interesting, +and takes great pleasure in recounting the same. +Even the most energetic young passenger cannot +play deck-quoits all day, and mixed cricket +matches are too heating to last long once Aden +is left behind. A great many people found it +pleasant to drop into a chair beside the quiet lady, +who was always politely interested in their remarks. +She looked so cool and restful in her +white frock and shady hat. She did <em>not</em> buy a +solar topee at Port Said, for though this was her +first voyage she had not, it seemed, started quite +unwarned.</p> + +<p>In the middle of the Indian Ocean she suddenly +found favour in the eyes of Sir Langham Sykes, +and when that was the case Sir Langham proclaimed +his preference to the whole ship. No +one who attracted his notice could remain in obscurity. +When he was not eating he was talking, +generally about himself, though he was also fond +of asking questions.</p> + +<p>A short, stout man with a red face, little fierce +blue eyes, a booming voice, noisy laugh and a<!-- Page 5 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span> +truculent, domineering manner, Sir Langham +made his presence felt wherever he was.</p> + +<p>It was "her shape," as he called it, that first +attracted his attention to Miss Ross, as he +watched her walking briskly round and round +the hurricane-deck for her morning constitutional.</p> + +<p>"That woman moves well," he remarked to +his neighbour; "wonder if she's goin' out to be +married. Nice-looking woman and pleasant, no +frills about her—sort that would be kind in illness."</p> + +<p>And Sir Langham sighed. He couldn't take +any exercise just then, for his last attack of gout +had been very severe, and his left foot was still +swathed and slippered.</p> + +<p>There was a dance that night on the hurricane-deck, +and Sir Langham, while watching the +dancers, talked at the top of his voice with the +more important lady passengers. On such occasions +he claimed close intimacy with the Reigning +House, and at all times of day one heard such +sentences as, "And <em>I</em> said to the Princess Henrietta," +with a full account of what he did say. +And the things he declared he said, and the stories +he told, certainly suggested a doubt as to whether +the ladies of our Royal Family are quite as strait-laced +as the ordinary public is led to believe. +But then one had only Sir Langham's word for +it. There was no possibility of questioning the +Princess.</p> + +<p>Presently Sir Langham got tired of trying to +drown the band—it was such a noisy band—and +he hobbled down the companion on to the almost<!-- Page 6 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span> +deserted deck. Right up in the stern he spied +Miss Ross, quite alone, sitting under an electric +light absorbed in a book. Beside her was an +empty chair with a comfortable leg-rest. Sir +Langham never made any bones about interrupting +people. It would not, to him, have seemed +possible that a woman could prefer any form of +literature to the charm of his conversation. So +with a series of grunts he lowered himself into it, +arranged his foot upon the rest, and, without asking +permission, lit a cigar.</p> + +<p>"Don't you care for dancin'?" he asked.</p> + +<p>She closed her book. "Oh, yes," she said, +"but I don't know many men on board, and there +are such a lot of young people who do know one +another. It's pretty to watch them; but the +night is pretty, too, don't you think? The stars +all seem so near compared to what they do at +home."</p> + +<p>"I've seen too many Eastern nights to take +much stock in 'em now," he said in a disparaging +voice. "I take it this is all new to you—first +voyage, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I've never been a long voyage before."</p> + +<p>"Goin' to India, I suppose. You'd have started +sooner if you'd been goin' for the winter to Australia. +Now what are you goin' to India <em>for</em>?"</p> + +<p>"To stay with my sister."</p> + +<p>"Married sister?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Older than you, then, of course."</p> + +<p>"No, younger."</p> + +<p>"Much younger?"</p> + +<p><!-- Page 7 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span></p><p>"Three years."</p> + +<p>"Is she like you?"</p> + +<p>"Not in the least. She is a beautiful person."</p> + +<p>"Been married long?"</p> + +<p>"Between five and six years. I'm to take her +home at the end of the cold weather."</p> + +<p>"Any kids?"</p> + +<p>"Two."</p> + +<p>"And you haven't been out before?"</p> + +<p>"No; this is my first visit."</p> + +<p>"She's been home, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, once."</p> + +<p>"Is her husband in the Army?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>Had Sir Langham been an observant person he +would have noted that her very brief replies did +not exactly encourage further questions. But +his idea of conversation was either a monologue +or a means of obtaining information, so he instantly +demanded, "What does her husband do?"</p> + +<p>The impulse of the moment urged her to reply, +"What possible business is it of yours <em>what</em> he +does?" But well-bred people do not yield to +these impulses, so she answered quietly, "He's in +the P.W.D."</p> + +<p>"Not a bad service, not a bad service, though +not equal to the I.C.S. They've had rather a +scandal in it lately. Didn't you see about it in +the papers just before we left?"</p> + +<p>At that moment Sir Langham was very carefully +flicking the ash from the end of his cigar, +otherwise he might have observed that as he +spoke his companion flushed. A wave of warm<!-- Page 8 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> +colour surged over her face and bare neck and +receded again, leaving her very pale. Her hands +closed over the book lying in her lap, as if glad to +hold on to something, and their knuckles were +white against the tan.</p> + +<p>"Didn't you see it?" he repeated. "Some +chap been found to have taken bribes over contracts +in a native state. Regular rumpus there's +been. Quite right, too; we sahibs must have +clean hands. No dealing with brown people if +you haven't clean hands—can't have rupees sticking +to 'em in any Government transactions. Expect +you'll hear all about it when you get out +there—makes a great sensation in any service +does that sort of thing. I don't remember the +name of the chap—perhaps they didn't give it—do +you?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't see anything about it," she said +quietly. "I was very busy just before I left, and +hardly looked at a paper."</p> + +<p>"Where is your sister?"</p> + +<p>"In Bombay."</p> + +<p>"Oh, got a billet there, has he? Expect you'll +like Bombay; cheery place, in the cold weather, +but not a patch on Calcutta, to my mind. I +hear the Governor and his wife do the thing in +style—hospitable, you know; got private means, +as people in that position always ought to have."</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose I shall go out at all," she said. +"My sister is ill, and I've got to look after her. +Directly she is strong enough to travel I shall +bring her home."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you <em>must</em> see something of the social life<!-- Page 9 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> +of the place while you're there. D'you know +what I thought? I thought you were goin' out +to get married, and"—he continued gallantly—"I +thought he was a deuced lucky chap."</p> + +<p>She smiled and shook her head. She was not +looking at Sir Langham, but at the long, white, +moonlit pathway of foam left in the wake of the +ship.</p> + +<p>"I say," he went on confidentially, "what's +your Christian name? I'm certain they don't +call you Janet. Is it Nettie, now? I bet it's +Nettie!"</p> + +<p>"My <em>family</em>," said Miss Ross somewhat coldly, +"call me Jan."</p> + +<p>"Nice little name," he exclaimed, "but more +like a boy's. Now, I never got a pet name. I +started Langham, and Langham I've stopped, +and I flatter myself I've made the name known +and respected."</p> + +<p>He wanted her to look at him, and leaned towards +her: "Look here, Miss Ross, I'm goin' to +ask you a funny question, and it's not one you +can ask most women—but you're a puzzle. +You've got a face like a child, and yet you're as +grey as a badger. What <em>is</em> your age?"</p> + +<p>"I shall be twenty-eight in March."</p> + +<p>She looked at him then, and her grey eyes were +so full of amusement that, incredulous as he +usually was as to other people's statements, he +knew that she was speaking the truth.</p> + +<p>"Then why the devil don't you <em>do</em> something +<em>to</em> it?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>She laughed. "I couldn't be bothered. And<!-- Page 10 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> +it might turn green, or something. I don't mind +it. It began when I was twenty-three."</p> + +<p>"<em>I</em> don't mind it either," Sir Langham declared +magnanimously; "but it's misleading."</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry," she said demurely. "I wouldn't +mislead anyone for the world."</p> + +<p>"Now, what age should you think <em>I</em> am? But +I suppose you know—that's the worst of being a +public character; when one gets nearly a column +in <cite>Who's Who</cite>, everybody knows all about one. +That's the penalty of celebrity."</p> + +<p>"Do you mind people knowing your age?"</p> + +<p>"Not I! Nor anything else about me. <em>I've</em> +never done anything to be ashamed of. Quite +the other way, I can assure you."</p> + +<p>"How pleasant that must be," she said quietly.</p> + +<p>Sir Langham turned and looked suspiciously at +her; but her face was guileless and calm, with no +trace of raillery, her eyes still fixed on the long +bright track of foam.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you, now," he muttered hoarsely, +"always sleep well, go off directly you turn in—eh?"</p> + +<p>Her quiet eyes met his; little and fierce and +truculent, but behind their rather bloodshot +boldness there lurked something else, and with a +sudden pang of pity she knew that it was fear, +and that Sir Langham dreaded the night.</p> + +<p>"As a rule I do," she said gently; "but of +course I've known what it is to be sleepless, and +it's horrid."</p> + +<p>"It's hell," said Sir Langham, "and I'm in it +every night this voyage, for I've knocked off<!-- Page 11 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> +morphia and opiates—they were playing the +deuce with my constitution, and I've strength of +mind for anything when I fairly take hold. But +it's awful. When d'you suppose natural sleep +will come back?"</p> + +<p>She knew that he did not lack physical courage, +that he had fearlessly faced great dangers in +many outposts of the world; but the demon of +insomnia had got a hold of Sir Langham, and he +dreaded the night unspeakably. At that moment +there was something pathetic about the little, +boastful, filibustering man.</p> + +<p>"I think you will sleep to-night," she said confidently, +"especially if you go to bed early."</p> + +<p>She half rose as she spoke, but he put his hand +on her arm and pressed her down in her chair +again.</p> + +<p>"Don't go yet," he cried. "Keep on tellin' me +I'll sleep, and then perhaps I shall. You look as +if you could will people to do things. You're +that quiet sort. Will me, there's a good girl. +Tell me again I'll sleep to-night."</p> + +<p>It was getting late; the music had stopped and +the dancers had disappeared. Miss Ross did not +feel over comfortable alone with Sir Langham so +far away from everybody else. Especially as +she saw he was excited and nervous. Had he +been drinking? she wondered. But she remembered +that he had proclaimed far and wide that, +because of his gout, he'd made a vow to touch +no form of "alcoholic liquor" on the voyage, except +on Christmas and New Year's Day. It was +six days since Christmas, and already Aden was<!-- Page 12 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> +left behind. No, it was just sheer nervous excitement, +and if she could do him any good....</p> + +<p>"I feel sure you will sleep to-night," she said +soothingly, "if you will do as I tell you."</p> + +<p>"I'll do any mortal thing. I've got a deck-cabin +to myself. Will you keep willin' me when +you turn in?"</p> + +<p>"Go to bed now," she said firmly. "Undress +quickly, and then think about nothing ... and +I'll do the rest."</p> + +<p>"You will, you promise?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but you must keep your mind a perfect +blank, or I can't do anything."</p> + +<p>She stood up tall and straight. The moonlight +caught her grey hair and burnished it to an +aureole of silver.</p> + +<p>With many grunts Sir Langham pulled himself +out of his chair. "No smokin'-room, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Good night," Miss Ross said firmly, and left +him.</p> + +<p>"Don't forget to ask your sister's husband +about that chap in the P.W.D.," he called after +her. "He's sure to know all about it. What's +his name?—your brother-in-law, I mean."</p> + +<p>But Miss Ross had disappeared.</p> + +<p>"Now how the devil," he muttered, "am I to +make my mind, <em>my</em> mind, a perfect blank?"</p> + +<p>Two hours later Sir Langham's snores grievously +disturbed the occupants of adjacent cabins.</p> + +<p>In hers, Miss Ross sat by the open porthole +reading and re-reading the mail that had reached +her at Aden.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 13 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER II<br /> +<span class="sub">JAN'S MAIL</span></h2> + +<div class="letter"> +<p class="ralign"><i>Bombay</i>, <i>December</i> 13<i>th</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="dropcap">M</span>Y DEAR JAN,</p> + +<p>It was a great relief to get your cable saying +definitely that you were sailing by the <i>Carnduff</i>. +Misfortunes seem to have come upon us +in such numbers of late that I dreaded lest your +departure might be unavoidably delayed or prevented. +I will not now enter into the painful +question of my shameful treatment by Government, +but you can well understand that I shall +leave no stone unturned to reverse their most +unfair and unjust decision, and to bring my traducers +to book. Important business having reference +to these matters calls me away at once, as +I feel it is most essential not to lose a moment, +my reputation and my whole future being at +stake. I shall therefore, to my great regret, be +unable to meet you on your arrival in Bombay, +and, as my movements for the next few months +will be rather uncertain, I may find it difficult +to let you have regular news of me. I would +therefore advise you to take Fay and the children +home as soon as all is safely over and she is able +to travel, and I will join you in England if and +when I find I can get away. I know, dear Jan, +that you will not mind financing Fay to this<!-- Page 14 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> +extent at present; as, owing to these wholly unexpected +departmental complications, I am uncommonly +hard up. I will, of course, repay you +at the earliest possible opportunity.</p> + +<p>Poor Fay is not at all well; all these worries +have been very bad for her, and I have been distracted +by anxiety on her behalf, as well as about +my own most distressing position, and a severe +attack of fever has left me weak and ailing. I +thought it better to bring Fay down to Bombay, +where she can get the best medical advice, and +her being there will save you the long, tiresome +journey to Dariawarpur. It is also most convenient +for going home. She is installed in a most +comfortable flat, and we brought our own servants, +so I hope you will feel that I have done +my best for her.</p> + +<p>Fay will explain the whole miserable business +to you, and although appearances may be against +me, I trust that you will realise how misleading +these may be. I cannot thank you enough for +responding so promptly to our ardently expressed +desire for your presence at this difficult time. It +will make all the difference in the world to Fay; +and, on her account, to me also.</p> + +<p>Believe me, always yours affectionately,<br /> +<span style="float:right;" class="smcap pad-r2">Hugo Tancred.</span></p> +</div> + +<div class="letter"> +<p class="ralign"><i>Bombay, Friday.</i></p> + +<p>Jan my dear, my dear, are you really on your +way? And shall I see your face and hear your +kind voice, and be able to cry against your +shoulder?</p> + +<p><!-- Page 15 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> +I can't meet you, my precious, because I don't +go out. I'm afraid. Afraid lest I should see anyone +who knew us at Dariawarpur. India is so +large and so small, and people from everywhere +are always in Bombay, and I couldn't bear it.</p> + +<p>Do you know, Jan, that when the very worst +has happened, you get kind of numbed. You +can't suffer any more. You can't be sorry or +angry or shocked or indignant, or anything but +just broken, and that's what I am.</p> + +<p>After all, I've one good friend here who knew +us at Dariawarpur. He's got a job at the secretariat, +and he tries to help me all he can. I don't +mind him somehow. He understands. He will +meet you and bring you to the bungalow, so look +out for him when the boat gets in. He's tall and +thin and clean-shaven and yellow, with a grave, +stern face and beautiful kind eyes. Peter is an +angel, so be nice to him, Jan dear. It has been +awful; it will go on being awful; but it will be a +little more bearable when you come—for me, I +mean—for you it will be horrid. All of us on +your hands, and no money, and me such a crock, +and presently a new baby. The children are +well. It's so queer to think you haven't seen +"little Fay." Come soon, Jan, come soon, to +your miserable <span style="float:right;" class="smcap pad-r2">Fay.</span></p></div> + +<p>Jan sat on her bunk under the open porthole. +One after the other she held the letters open in +her hand and stared at them, but she did not +read. The sentences were burnt into her brain +already.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 16 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span></p><p>Hugo Tancred's letter was dated. Fay's was +not, and neither letter bore any address in Bombay. +Now, Jan knew that Bombay is a large +town; and that people like the Tancreds, who, if +not actually in hiding, certainly did not seek to +draw attention to their movements, would be +hard to find. Fay had wholly omitted to mention +the surname of the tall, thin, yellow man +with the "grave, stern face and beautiful kind +eyes." Even in the midst of her poignant anxiety +Jan found herself smiling at this. It was so like +Fay—so like her to give no address. And should +the tall, thin gentleman fail to appear, what was +Jan to do? She could hardly go about the ship +asking if one "Peter" had come to fetch her.</p> + +<p>How would she find Fay?</p> + +<p>Would they allow her to wait at the landing-place +till someone came, or were there stringent +regulations compelling passengers to leave the +docks with the utmost speed, as most of them +would assuredly desire to do?</p> + +<p>She knitted her brows and worried a good deal +about this; then suddenly put the question from +her as too trivial when there were such infinitely +greater problems to solve.</p> + +<p>Only one thing was clear. One central fact +shone out, a beacon amidst the gloom of the "departmental +complications" enshrouding the conduct +of Hugo Tancred, the certainty that he had, +for the present anyway, shifted the responsibility +of his family from his own shoulders to hers. As +she sat square and upright under the porthole, +with the cool air from an inserted "wind-sail"<!-- Page 17 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> +ruffling her hair, she looked as though she braced +herself to the burden.</p> + +<p>She wished she knew exactly what had happened, +what Hugo Tancred had actually done. +For some years she had known that he was by +no means scrupulous in money matters, and that +very evening Sir Langham had made it clear to +her that this crookedness had not stopped short +at his official work. There had been a scandal, +so far-reaching a scandal that it had got into the +home papers.</p> + +<p>This struck Jan as rather extraordinary, for +Hugo Tancred was by no means a stupid man.</p> + +<p>It is one thing to be pleasantly oblivious of +private debts, to omit cheques in repayment of +various necessaries got at the Stores by an obliging +sister-in-law. One thing to muddle away in +wild-cat speculations a wife's money that, but for +the procrastination of an easy-going father, would +have been tightly tied up—quite another to bring +himself so nearly within the clutches of the law as +to make it possible for the Government of India +to dismiss him.</p> + +<p>And what was he to do? What did the future +hold for him?</p> + +<p>Who would give employment to however able +a man with such a career behind him?</p> + +<p>Jan's imagination refused to take such flights. +Resolutely she put the subject from her and began +to consider what her own best course would +be with Fay, her nephew and niece, and, very +shortly, a new baby on her hands.</p> + +<p>Jan was not a young woman to let things drift.<!-- Page 18 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> +She had kept house for a whimsical, happy-go-lucky +father since she was fourteen; mothered her +beautiful young sister; and, at her father's death, +two years before, had with quiet decision arranged +her own life, wholly avoiding the discussion +and the friction which generally are the lot +of an unmarried woman of five-and-twenty left +without natural guardians and with a large circle +of friends and relations.</p> + +<p>It was nearly two o'clock when she undressed +and went to bed, and before that she had drafted +two cablegrams—one to a house-agent, the other +to her bankers.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 19 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER III<br /> +<span class="sub">BOMBAY</span></h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">F</span>OR Jan the next two days passed as in a +more or less disagreeable dream. She could +never afterwards recall very clearly what happened, +except that Sir Langham Sykes seemed +absolutely omnipresent, and made her, she felt, +ridiculous before the whole ship, by proclaiming +far and wide that she had bestowed upon +him the healing gift of sleep.</p> + +<p>He was so effusive, so palpably grateful, that +she simply could not undeceive him by telling +him that after they parted the night before she +had never given him another thought.</p> + +<p>When he was not doing this he was pursuing, +with fulminations against the whole tribe of +missionaries, two kindly, quiet members of the +Society of Friends.</p> + +<p>In an evil moment they had gratified his insatiable +curiosity as to the object of their voyage +to India, which was to visit and report upon +the missionary work of their community. Once +he discovered this he never let them alone, and +the deck resounded with his denunciations of +all Protestant missionaries as "self-seeking, oily +humbugs."</p> + +<p>They bore it with well-mannered resignation, +and a common dislike for Sir Langham formed +quite a bond of union between them and Jan.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 20 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span></p><p>There was the usual dance on New Year's +Eve, the usual singing of "Auld Lang Syne" +in two huge circles; and Jan would have enjoyed +it all but for the heavy foreboding in her heart; +for she was a simple person who responded easily +to the emotions of others. Before she could +slip away to bed Sir Langham cornered her again, +conjuring her to "will" him to sleep and "to +go on doin' it" after they parted in Bombay. +He became rather maudlin, and she seized the +opportunity of telling him that her best efforts +would be wholly unavailing if he at all relaxed +the temperate habits, so necessary for the cure +of his gout, that he had acquired during the +voyage. She was stern with Sir Langham, and +her admonitions had considerable effect. He +sought his cabin chastened and thoughtful.</p> + +<p>The boat was due early in the morning. Jan +finished most of her packing before she undressed; +then, tired and excited, she could not +sleep. A large cockroach scuttling about her +cabin did not tend to calm her nerves. She +plentifully besprinkled the floor with powdered +borax, kept the electric light turned on and the +fan whirring, and lay down wide-awake to wait +for the dawn.</p> + +<p>The ship was unusually noisy, but just about +four o'clock came a new sound right outside her +porthole—the rush alongside of the boat bearing +the pilot and strange loud voices calling directions +in an unknown tongue. She turned out +her light (first peering fearfully under her berth +to make sure no borax-braving cockroach was<!-- Page 21 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> +in ambush) and knelt on her bed to look +out and watch the boat with its turbaned occupants: +big brown men, who shouted to one +another in a liquid language full of mystery.</p> + +<p>For a brief space the little boat was towed +alongside the great liner, then cast off, and presently—far +away on the horizon—Jan saw a streak +of pearly pinkish light, as though the soft blue +curtain of the night had been lifted just a little; +and against that luminous streak were hills.</p> + +<p>In spite of her anxiety, in spite of her fears as +to the future, Jan's heart beat fast with pleasurable +excitement. She was young and strong and +eager, and here at last was the real East. A +little soft wind caressed her tired forehead and +she drank in the blessed coolness of the early +morning.</p> + +<p>Both day and night come quickly in the East. +Jan got up, had her bath, dressed, and by half-past +six she was on deck. The dark-blue curtain +was rolled up, and the scene set was the +harbour of Bombay.</p> + +<p>Such a gracious haven of strange multi-coloured +craft, with its double coast-line of misty hills +on one side, and clear-cut, high-piled buildings, +domes and trees upon the other.</p> + +<p>A gay white-and-gold launch, with its attendants +in scarlet and white, came for certain passengers, +who were guests of the Governor. The +police launch, trim and business-like with its +cheerful yellow-hatted sepoys, came for others. +Jan watched these favoured persons depart in +stately comfort, and went downstairs to get<!-- Page 22 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> +some breakfast. Then came the rush of departure +by the tender. So many had friends to +meet them, and all seemed full of pleasure in +arrival. Jan was just beginning to feel rather +forlorn and anxious when the Purser, fussed and +over-driven as he always is at such times, came +towards her, followed by a tall man wearing a +pith helmet and an overcoat.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Ledgard has come to meet you, Miss +Ross, so you'll be all right."</p> + +<p>It was amazing how easy everything became. +Mr. Ledgard's servants collected Jan's cabin +baggage and took it with them in the tender +and, on arrival, in a tikka-gharri—the little +pony-carriage which is the gondola of Bombay—and +almost before she quite realised that the +voyage was over she found herself seated beside +Peter in a comfortable motor-car, with a cheerful +little Hindu chauffeur at the steering-wheel, +sliding through wide, well-watered streets, still +comparatively empty because it was so early.</p> + +<p>By mutual consent they turned to look at one +another, and Jan noted that Peter Ledgard <em>was</em> +thin and extremely yellow. That his eyes (hollow +and tired-looking as are the eyes of so many +officials in the East) <em>were</em> kind, and she thought +she had never before beheld a firmer mouth or +more masterful jaw.</p> + +<p>What Peter saw evidently satisfied him as to +her common sense, for he plunged <i lang="la">in medias res</i> +at once: "How much do you know of this unfortunate +affair?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Very little," she answered, "and that little<!-- Page 23 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> +extremely vague. Will you tell me has Hugo +come to total grief or not?"</p> + +<p>"Officially, yes. He is finished, done for—may +thank his lucky stars he's not in gaol. It's +well you should know this at the very beginning, +for of course he won't allow it, and poor Fay—Mrs. +Tancred (I'm afraid we're rather free-and-easy +about Christian names in India)—doesn't +know the whole facts by a very long way. From +what she tells me, I fear he has made away with +most of her money, too. Was any of it tied up?"</p> + +<p>Jan shook her head. "We both got what +money there was absolutely on my father's +death."</p> + +<p>"Then," said Peter, "I fear you've got the +whole of them on your hands, Miss Ross."</p> + +<p>"That's what I've come for," Jan said simply, +"to take care of Fay and the children."</p> + +<p>Peter Ledgard looked straight in front of him.</p> + +<p>"It's a lot to put on you," he said slowly, +"and I'm afraid you'll find it a bit more complicated +than you expect. Will you remember +that I'd like to help you all I can?"</p> + +<p>Jan looked at the stern profile beside her and +felt vaguely comforted. "I shall be most grateful +for your advice," she said humbly. "I know +I shall need it."</p> + +<p>The motor stopped, and as she stepped from +it in front of the tall block of buildings, Jan +knew that the old easy, straightforward life was +over. Unconsciously she stiffened her back and +squared her shoulders, and looked very tall +and straight as she stood beside Peter Ledgard<!-- Page 24 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> +in the entrance. The pretty colour he had admired +when he met her had faded from her cheeks, +and the face under the shady hat looked grave +and older.</p> + +<p>Peter said something to the smiling lift-man +in an extremely dirty dhoti who stood salaaming +in the entrance.</p> + +<p>"I won't come up now," he said to Jan. +"Please tell Mrs. Tancred I'll look in about +tea-time."</p> + +<p>As Jan entered the lift and vanished from his +sight, Peter reflected, "So that's the much-talked-of +Jan! Well, I'm not surprised Fay +wanted her."</p> + +<p>The lift stopped. An elderly white-clad butler +stood salaaming at an open door, and Jan followed +him.</p> + +<p>A few steps through a rather narrow passage +and she was in a large light room opening on to +a verandah, and in the centre stood her sister +Fay, with outstretched arms.</p> + +<p>A pathetic, inarticulate, worn and faded Fay: +her pretty freshness dimmed. A Fay with dark +circles round her hollow eyes and all the living +light gone from her abundant fair hair. It was +as though her face was covered by an impalpable +grey mask.</p> + +<p>There was no doubt about it. Fay looked +desperately ill. Ill in a way not to be accounted +for by her condition.</p> + +<p>Clinging together they sat down on an immense +sofa, exchanging trivial question and +answer as to the matters ordinary happy folk<!-- Page 25 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> +discuss when they first meet after a long absence. +Jan asked for the children, who had not yet returned +from their early morning walk with the +ayah. Fay asked about the voyage and friends +at home, and told Jan she had got dreadfully +grey; then kissed her and leant against her just +as she used to do when they were both children +and she needed comfort.</p> + +<p>Jan said nothing to Fay about <em>her</em> looks, and +neither of them so much as mentioned Hugo +Tancred. But Jan felt a wild desire to get away +by herself and cry and cry over this sad wraith +of the young sister whose serene and happy +beauty had been the family pride.</p> + +<p>And yet she was so essentially the same Fay, +tender and loving and inconsequent, and full of +pretty cares for Jan's comfort.</p> + +<p>The dining-room was behind the sitting-room, +with only a curtain between, and as they sat at +breakfast Fay was so eager Jan should eat—she +ate nothing herself—so anxious lest she should +not like the Indian food, that poor Jan, with a +lump in her throat that choked her at every +morsel, forced down the carefully thought-out +breakfast and meekly accepted everything presented +by the grey-haired turbaned butler who +bent over her paternally and offered every dish +much as one would tempt a shy child with some +amusing toy.</p> + +<p>Presently Fay took her to see her room, large, +bare and airy, with little furniture save the bed +with its clean white mosquito curtains placed +under the electric fan in the centre of the ceiling.<!-- Page 26 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> +Outside the window was a narrow balcony, and +Jan went there at once to look out; and though +her heart was so heavy she was fain to exclaim +joyfully at the beauty of the view.</p> + +<p>Right opposite, across Back Bay, lay the +wooded villa-crowned slopes of Malabar Hill, +flung like a garland on the bosom of a sea deeply +blue and smiling, smooth as a lake, while below +her lay the pageant of the street, with its ever-changing +panorama of vivid life. The whole so +brilliant, so various, so wholly unlike any beautiful +place she had ever seen before that, artist's +daughter she was, she cried eagerly to Fay, "Oh, +come and look! Did you ever see anything so +lovely? How Dad would have rejoiced in this!"</p> + +<p>Fay followed slowly: "I thought you'd like +it," she said, evidently pleased by Jan's enthusiasm, +"that's why I gave you this room. Look, +Jan! There are the children coming, those two +over by the band-stand. They see us. <em>Do</em> wave +to them."</p> + +<p>The children were still a long way off. Jan +could only see an ayah in her white draperies +pushing a little go-cart with a child in it, and a +small boy trotting by her side, but she waved as +she was bidden.</p> + +<p>The room had evidently at one time been used +as a nursery, for inside the stone balustrade was +a high trellis of wood. Jan and Fay were both +tall women, but even on them the guarding trellis +came right up to their shoulders. Neither of +them could really lean over, though Fay tried, in +her eagerness to attract the attention of the little<!-- Page 27 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> +group. Jan watched her sister's face and again +felt that cruel constriction of the throat that +holds back tears. Fay's tired eyes were so sad, +so out of keeping with the cheerful movement of +her hand, so shadowed by some knowledge she +could not share.</p> + +<p>"You mustn't stand here without a hat," she +said, turning to go in. "The sun is getting hot. +You must get a topee this afternoon. Peter will +take you and help to choose it."</p> + +<p>"Couldn't you come, if we took a little carriage? +Does driving tire you when it's cool?" +Jan asked as she followed her sister back into the +room.</p> + +<p>"I never go out," Fay said decidedly. "I +never shall again ... I mean," she added, "till +it's all over. I couldn't bear it just now—I might +meet someone I know."</p> + +<p>"But, Fay, it's very bad for you to be always +indoors. Surely, in the early morning or the +evening—you'll come out then?"</p> + +<p>Fay shook her head. "Peter has taken me +out in the motor once or twice at night—but I +don't really like it. It makes me so dreadfully +tired. Don't worry me about that, Jan. I get +plenty of air in the verandah. It's just as pretty +there as in your balcony, and we can have comfortable +chairs. Let's go there now. <em>You</em> shall +go out as much as you like. I'll send Lalkhan +with you, or Ayah and the children; and Peter +will take you about all he can—he promised he +would. Don't think I want to be selfish and +keep you here with me all the time."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 28 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> +The flat, weak voice, so nervous, so terrified +lest her stronger sister should force her to some +course of action she dreaded, went to Jan's +heart.</p> + +<p>"My dear," she said gently, "I haven't come +here to rush about. I've come to be with you. +We'll do exactly what you like best."</p> + +<p>Fay clung to her again and whispered, "Later on +you'll understand better—I'll be able to tell you +things, and perhaps you'll understand ... though +I'm not sure—you're not weak like me, you'd +never go under ... you'd always fight...."</p> + +<p>There was a pattering of small feet in the passage. +Little high voices called for "Mummy," +and the children came in.</p> + +<p>Tony, a grave-eyed, pale-faced child of five, +came forward instantly, with his hand held out +far in front of him. Jan, who loved little children, +knew in a minute that he was afraid she would +kiss him; so she shook hands with gentlemanly +stiffness. Little Fay, on the contrary, ran forward, +held up her arms "to be taken" and her +adorably pretty little face to be kissed. She was +startlingly like her mother at the same age, with +bobbing curls of feathery gold, beseeching blue +eyes and a complexion delicately coloured as the +pearly pink lining of certain shells. She was, +moreover, chubby, sturdy and robust—quite unlike +Tony, who looked nervous, bleached and +delicate.</p> + +<p>Tony went and leant against his mother, regarding +Jan and his small sister with dubious, +questioning eyes.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 29 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> +Presently he remarked, "I wish she hadn't +come."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Tony," Fay exclaimed reproachfully, +"you must both love Auntie Jan very dearly. +She has come such a long way to be good to us +all."</p> + +<p>"I wish she hadn't," Tony persisted.</p> + +<p>"<em>I</em> sall love Auntie Dzan," Fay remarked, +virtuously.</p> + +<p>It was pleasant to be cuddled by this friendly +baby, and Jan laid her cheek against the fluffy +golden head; but all the time she was watching +Tony. He reminded her of someone, and she +couldn't think who. He maintained his aloof +and unfriendly attitude till Ayah came to take +the children to their second breakfast. Little +Fay, however, refused to budge, and when the +meekly salaaming ayah attempted to take her, +made her strong little body stiff, and screamed +vigorously, clinging so firmly to her aunt that +Jan had herself to carry the obstreperous baby +to the nursery, where she left her lying on the +floor, still yelling with all the strength of her +evidently healthy lungs.</p> + +<p>When Jan returned, rather dishevelled—for +her niece had seized a handful of her hair in the +final struggle not to be put down—Fay said almost +complacently, "You see, the dear little soul +took a fancy to you at once. Tony is much more +reserved and not nearly so friendly. He's very +Scotch, is Tony."</p> + +<p>"He does what he's told, anyway."</p> + +<p>"Oh, not always," Fay said reassuringly, "only<!-- Page 30 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> +when he doesn't mind doing it. They've both got +very strong wills."</p> + +<p>"So have I," said Jan.</p> + +<p>Fay sighed. "It was time you came to keep +them in order. I can't."</p> + +<p>This was evident, for Fay had not attempted +to interfere with her daughter beyond saying, "I +expect she's hungry, that's why she's so fretty, +poor dear."</p> + +<p>That afternoon Peter went to the flat and was +shown as usual into the sitting-room.</p> + +<p>Jan and the children were in the verandah, all +with their backs to the room, and did not notice +his entrance as Jan was singing nursery-rhymes. +Fay sat on her knee, cuddled close as though +there were no such thing as tempers in the world. +Tony sat on a little chair at her side, not very +near, but still near enough to manifest a more +friendly spirit than in the morning. Peter waited +in the background while the song went on.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I saw a ship a-sailing, a-sailing on the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And it was full of pretty things for Tony, Fay and me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There was sugar in the cabin and kisses in the hold——<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"Whose kisses?" Tony asked suspiciously.</p> + +<p>"Mummy's kisses, of course," said Jan.</p> + +<p>"Why doesn't it <em>say</em> so, then?" Tony demanded.</p> + +<p>"Mummy's kisses in the hold," Jan sang obediently—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The sails were made of silk and the masts were made of gold.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gold, gold, the masts were made of gold.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><!-- Page 31 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> +"What nelse?" Fay asked before Jan could +start the second verse.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There were four-and-twenty sailors a-skipping on the deck,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And they were little white mice with rings about their neck.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The captain was a duck, with a jacket on his back,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when the ship began to sail, the captain cried, "Quack! Quack!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quack! Quack!" The captain cried, "Quack! Quack!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"What nelse?" Fay asked again.</p> + +<p>"There isn't any nelse, that's all."</p> + +<p>"Adain," said Fay.</p> + +<p>"Praps," Tony said thoughtfully, "there was +<em>some</em> auntie's kisses in that hold ... just a +few...."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure there were," said a new voice, and +Peter appeared on the verandah.</p> + +<p>The children greeted him with effusion, and +when he sat down Tony sat on his knee. He was +never assailed by fears lest Peter should want to +kiss him. Peter was not that sort.</p> + +<p>"Sing nunner song," little Fay commanded.</p> + +<p>"Not now," Jan said; "we've got a visitor and +must talk to him."</p> + +<p>"Sing nunner song," little Fay repeated firmly, +just as though she had not heard.</p> + +<p>"Not now; some other time," Jan said with +equal firmness.</p> + +<p>"Mack!" said the baby, and suited the action +to the word by dealing her aunt a good hard +smack on the arm.</p> + +<p>"You mustn't do that," said Jan; "it's not +kind."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 32 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> +"Mack, mack, mack," in <i lang="it">crescendo</i> with accompanying +blows.</p> + +<p>Jan caught the little hand, while Peter and +Tony, interested spectators, said nothing. She +held it firmly. "Listen, little Fay," she said, +very gently. "If you do that again I shall take +you to Ayah in the nursery. Just once again, +and you go."</p> + +<p>Jan loosed the little hand, and instantly it +dealt her a resounding slap on the cheek.</p> + +<p>It is of no avail to kick and scream and wriggle +in the arms of a strong, decided young aunt. +For the second time that day, a vociferously +struggling baby was borne back to the nursery.</p> + +<p>As the yells died away in the distance, Tony +turned right round on Peter's knee and faced +him: "She does what she says," he remarked in +an awestruck whisper.</p> + +<p>"And a jolly good thing too," answered Peter.</p> + +<p>When Jan came back she brought her sister +with her. Lalkhan brought tea, and Tony went +with him quite meekly to the nursery. They +heard him chattering to Lalkhan in Hindustani +as they went along the passage.</p> + +<p>Fay looked a thought less haggard than in the +morning. She had slept after tiffin; the fact that +her sister was actually in the bungalow had a +calming effect upon her. She was quite cheerful +and full of plans for Jan's amusement; plans +in which, of course, she proposed to take no part +herself. Jan listened in considerable dismay +to arrangements which appeared to her to make +enormous inroads into Peter Ledgard's leisure<!-- Page 33 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> +hours. He and his motor seemed to be quite +at Fay's disposal, and Jan found the situation +both bewildering and embarrassing.</p> + +<p>"What a nuisance for him," she reflected, "to +have a young woman thrust upon him in this +fashion. It won't do to upset Fay, but I must +tell him at the first opportunity that none of +these projects hold good."</p> + +<p>Directly tea was over Fay almost hustled +them out to go and buy a topee for Jan, and +suggested that, having accomplished this, they +should look in at the Yacht Club for an hour, +"because it was band-night," and Jan would +like the Yacht Club lawn, with the sea and the +boats and all the cheerful people.</p> + +<p>As the car slid into the crowded traffic of the +Esplanade Road, Peter pointed to a large building +on the left, saying, "There's the Army and +Navy Stores, quite close to you, you see. You +can always get anything you want there. I'll +give you my number ... not that it matters."</p> + +<p>"I've belonged for years to the one at home," +said Jan, "and I understand the same number +will do."</p> + +<p>She felt she really could not be beholden to +this strange young man for everything, even a +Stores number; and that she had better make +the situation clear at once that she had come to +take care of Fay and not to be an additional +anxiety to him. At that moment she felt almost +jealous of Peter. Fay seemed to turn to him +for everything.</p> + +<p>When they reached the shop where topees<!-- Page 34 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> +were to be got, she heard a familiar, booming +voice. Had she been alone she would certainly +have turned and fled, deferring her purchase till Sir +Langham Sykes had concluded his, but she could +hardly explain her rather complicated reasons +to Peter, who told the Eurasian assistant to bring +topees for her inspection.</p> + +<p>Jan tried vainly to efface herself behind a +tailor's dummy, but her back was reflected in +the very mirror which also reproduced Sir Langham +in the act of trying on a khaki-coloured +topee. He saw her and at once hurried in her +direction, exclaiming:</p> + +<p>"Ah, Miss Ross, run to earth! You slipped +off this morning without bidding me good-bye, +and I've been wonderin' all day where we should +meet. Now let me advise you about your topee. +<em>I'll</em> choose it for you, then you can't go wrong. +Get a large one, mind, or the back of your nice +little neck will be burnt the colour of the toast +they gave us on the <i>Carnduff</i>—shockin' toast, +wasn't it? No, not that shape, idiot ... unless +you're goin' to ride, are you? If so, you must +have one of each—a large one, I said—what the +devil's the use of that? You must wear it <em>well</em> +on your head, mind; you can't show much of +that pretty grey hair that puzzled us all so—eh, +w'at?"</p> + +<p>Jan had been white enough as she entered the +shop, for she was beginning to feel quite amazingly +tired; but now the face under the overshadowing +topee was crimson and she was hopelessly +confused and helpless in the overpowering<!-- Page 35 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> +of Sir Langham, who, when he could +for a moment detach his mind from Jan, looked +with considerable curiosity at Peter.</p> + +<p>Peter stood there silent, aloof, detached; and +he appeared quite cool. Jan felt the atmosphere +to be almost insufferably close, and heaved a +sigh of gratitude when he suddenly turned on +an electric fan above her head.</p> + +<p>"I think this will do," she said, in a faint voice +to the assistant, though the crinkly green lining +round the crown seemed searing her very brain.</p> + +<p>Peter intervened, asking: "Is it comfortable? +No ..." as she took it off. "I can see it isn't. +It has marked your forehead already. Don't +be in a hurry. They'll probably need to alter +the lining. Some women have it taken out altogether. +Pins keep it on all right."</p> + +<p>Thus encouraged, she tried on others, and all +the time Sir Langham held forth at the top of +his voice, interrupting his announcement that +he was dining at Government House that very +night to swear at the assistant when he brought +topees that did not fit, and giving his opinion +of her appearance with the utmost frankness, +till Jan found one that seemed rather less uncomfortable +than the rest. Then in desperation +she introduced Sir Langham to Peter.</p> + +<p>"Your sister-in-law looks a bit tucked up," he +remarked affably. "We'd better take her to +the Yacht Club and give her a peg—she seems +to feel the heat."</p> + +<p>Jan cast one despairing, imploring glance at +Peter, who rose to the occasion nobly.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 36 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> +"You're quite right," he said. "This place is +infernally stuffy. Come on. They know where +to send it. Good afternoon sir," and before she +realised what had happened Peter seized her by +the arm and swept her out of the shop and into +the front seat of the car, stepped over her and +himself took the steering-wheel.</p> + +<p>While Sir Langham's voice bayed forth a mixture +of expostulation and assignation at the +Yacht Club later on.</p> + +<p>"Now where shall we go?" asked Peter.</p> + +<p>"Not the Yacht Club," Jan besought him. +"He's coming there; he said so. Isn't he dreadful? +Did you mind very much being taken for +my brother-in-law? He has no idea who he +really is, or I wouldn't have let it pass ... but I +felt I could never explain ... I'm so sorry...."</p> + +<p>Her face was white enough now.</p> + +<p>"It would have been absurd to explain, and +it's I who should apologise for the free-and-easy +way I carried you off, but it was clearly a case +for strong measures, or he'd have insisted on +coming with us. What an awful little man! +Did you have him all the voyage? No wonder +you look tired.... I hope he didn't sit at +your table...."</p> + +<p>Once out of doors, the delicious breeze from +the sea that springs up every evening in Bombay +revived her. She forgot Sir Langham, for a +few minutes she even forgot Fay and her anxieties +in sheer pleasure in the prospect, as the car fell +into its place in the crowded traffic of the Queen's +Road.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 37 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> +Jan never forgot that drive. He ran her out +to Chowpatty, where the road lies along the +shore and the carriages of Mohammedan, Hindu +and Parsee gentlemen stand in serried rows while +their picturesque occupants "eat the air" in +passive and contented Eastern fashion; then +up to Ridge Road on Malabar Hill, where he +stopped that she might get out and walk to the +edge of the wooded cliff and look down at the +sea and the great city lying bathed in that clear +golden light only to be found at sunset in the East.</p> + +<p>Peter enjoyed her evident appreciation of it +all. She said very little, but she looked fresh +and rested again, and he was conscious of a quite +unusual pleasure in her mere presence as they +stood together in the green garden, got and kept +by such infinite pains and care, that borders the +road running along the top of Malabar Hill.</p> + +<p>Suddenly she turned. "We mustn't wait +another minute," she said. "You, doubtless, +want to go to the club. It has been very good +of you to spend so much time with me. What +makes it all so beautiful is that everywhere one +sees the sea. I will tell Fay how much I have +enjoyed it."</p> + +<p>Peter's eyes met hers and held them: "Try to +think of me as a friend, Miss Ross. I can see you +are thoroughly capable and independent; but, +believe me, India is not like England, and a +white woman needs a good many things done +for her here if she's to be at all comfortable. I +don't want to butt in and be a nuisance; but +just remember I'm there when the bell rings——"</p> + +<p><!-- Page 38 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> +"I am not likely to forget," said Jan.</p> + +<p>Lights began to twinkle in the city below. +The soft monotonous throb of tom-toms came +beating through the ambient air like a pulse of +teeming life; and when he left her at her sister's +door the purple darkness of an Eastern night +had curtained off the sea.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 39 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER IV<br /> +<span class="sub">THE BEGINNING OF THE JOB</span></h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">F</span>AY was still lying on her long chair in the +verandah when Jan got in. She had turned +on the electric light above her head and had, +seemingly, been working at some diminutive +garment of nainsook and lace. She looked up +at Jan's step, asking eagerly, "Well, did you +like it? Did you see many people? Was the +band good?"</p> + +<p>Jan sat down beside her and explained that +Peter had taken her for a drive instead. She +made her laugh over her encounter with Sir +Langham, and was enthusiastic about the view +from Malabar Hill. Then Fay sent her to say +good night to the children, who were just getting +ready for bed.</p> + +<p>As she went down the long passage towards +the nursery, she heard small voices chattering in +Hindustani, and as she opened the door little +Fay was in the act of stepping out of all her +clothes.</p> + +<p>Tony was already clad in pink pyjamas, which +made him look paler than ever.</p> + +<p>Little Fay, naked as any shameless cherub on +a Renaissance festoon, danced across the tiled +floor, and, pausing directly in front of her aunt, +announced:</p> + +<p>"I sall mack Ayah as muts as I like."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 40 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> +The good-natured Goanese ayah salaamed and, +beaming upon her charge, murmured entire acquiescence.</p> + +<p>Jan looked down at the absurd round atom +who defied her, and, trying hard not to laugh, +said:</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, you won't."</p> + +<p>"I sall!" the baby declared even more emphatically, +and, lifting up her adorable, obstinate +little face to look at Jan, nodded her curly head +vigorously.</p> + +<p>"I think not," Jan remarked rather unsteadily, +"because if you do, people won't like you. We +can none of us go about smacking innocent folks +just for the fun of it. Everybody would be +shocked and horrified."</p> + +<p>"Socked and hollified," echoed little Fay, +delighted with the new words, "socked and +hollified!... What nelse?"</p> + +<p>"What usually follows is that the disagreeable +little girl gets smacked herself."</p> + +<p>"No," said Fay, but a thought doubtfully. +"No," more firmly. Then with a smile that was +subtly compounded of pathos and confidence, +"Nobody would mack plitty little Fay ... 'cept +... plapse ... Auntie Dzan."</p> + +<p>The stern aunt in question snatched up her +niece to cover her with kisses. Ayah escaped +chastisement that evening, for, arrayed in a +white nighty, "plitty little Fay" sat good as +gold on Jan's knee, absorbed in the interest of +"This little pig went to market," told on her +own toes. Even Tony, the aloof and unfriendly,<!-- Page 41 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> +consented to unbend to the extent of being interested +in the dialogue of "John Smith and +Minnie Bowl, can you shoe a little foal?" and +actually thrust out his own bare feet that Jan +might make them take part in the drama of the +"twa wee doggies who went to the market," and +came back "louper-scamper, louper-scamper."</p> + +<p>At the end of every song or legend came the +inevitable "What nelse?" from little Fay—and +Jan only escaped after the most solemn promises +had been exacted for a triple bill on the morrow.</p> + +<p>When she had changed and went back to the +sitting-room, dinner was ready. Lalkhan again +bent over her with fatherly solicitude as he +offered each course, and this time Jan, being +really hungry, rather enjoyed his ministrations. +A boy assisted at the sideboard, and another +minion appeared to bring the dishes from the +kitchen, for the butler and the boy never left the +room for an instant.</p> + +<p>Fay looked like a tired ghost, and Jan could +see that it was a great effort to her to talk cheerfully +and seem interested in the home news.</p> + +<p>After dinner they went back to the sitting-room. +Lalkhan brought coffee and Fay lit a +cigarette. Jan wandered round, looking at the +photographs and engravings on the walls.</p> + +<p>"How is it," she asked, "that Mr. Ledgard +seems to come in so many of these groups? Did +you rent the flat from a friend of his?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't 'rent' the flat from anybody," Fay +answered. "It's Peter's own flat. He lent it +to us."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 42 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> +Jan turned and stared at her sister. "Mr. +Ledgard's flat!" she repeated. "And what is +he doing?"</p> + +<p>"He's living at the club just now. He turned +out when we came. Don't look at me like that, +Jan.... There was nothing else to be done."</p> + +<p>Jan came back and sat on the edge of the +big sofa. "But I understood Hugo's letter to +say...."</p> + +<p>"Whatever Hugo said in his letter was probably +lies. If Peter hadn't lent us his flat, I +should have had nowhere to lay my head. Who +do you suppose would let us a flat here, after all +that has happened, unless we paid in advance, +and how could we do that without any ready +money? Why, a flat like this unfurnished costs +over three hundred rupees a month. I don't +know what a furnished flat would be."</p> + +<p>"But—isn't it ... taking a great deal from +Mr. Ledgard?" Jan asked timidly.</p> + +<p>Fay stretched out her hand and suddenly +switched off the lights, so that they were left together +on the big sofa in the soft darkness.</p> + +<p>"Give me your hand, Jan. I shall be less +afraid of you when I just feel you and can't see +you."</p> + +<p>"Why should you be afraid of me?... Dear, +dear Fay, you must remember how little I really +know. How can I understand?"</p> + +<p>Fay leant against her sister and held her close. +"Sometimes I feel as if I couldn't understand it +all myself. But you mustn't worry about Peter's +flat. We'll all go home the minute I can be<!-- Page 43 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> +moved. He doesn't mind, really ... and there +was nothing else to be done."</p> + +<p>"Does Hugo know you are here?"</p> + +<p>Fay laughed, a sad, bitter little laugh. "It +was Hugo who asked Peter to lend his flat."</p> + +<p>"Then what about his servants? What has he +done with them while you are here?"</p> + +<p>"These are his servants."</p> + +<p>"But Hugo said...."</p> + +<p>"Jan, dear, it is no use quoting Hugo to me. +I can tell you the sort of thing he would say.... +Did he mention Peter at all?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not. He said you were 'installed in +a most comfortable flat' and had brought your +own servants."</p> + +<p>"I brought Ayah—naturally, Peter hadn't an +ayah. But why do you object to his servants? +They're very good."</p> + +<p>"But don't they think it ... a little odd?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you can't bother about what servants +think in India. They think us all mad anyway."</p> + +<p>There was silence for a few minutes while Jan +realised the fact that, dislike it as she might, she +seemed fated to be laid under considerable obligation +to Mr. Peter Ledgard.</p> + +<p>"Where is Hugo?" she asked at last.</p> + +<p>"My dear, you appear to have heard from +Hugo since I have. As to his whereabouts I +haven't the remotest idea."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to say, Fay, that he hasn't let +you know where he is?"</p> + +<p>"He didn't come with us to the flat because he +was afraid he'd be seized for debts and things.<!-- Page 44 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> +We've only been here a fortnight. He's probably +on board ship somewhere—there hasn't been +much time for him to let me know...."</p> + +<p>Fay spoke plaintively, as though Jan were +rather hard on Hugo in expecting him to give his +wife any account of his movements.</p> + +<p>Jan was glad it was dark. She felt bewildered +and oppressed and very, very angry with her +brother-in-law, who seemed to have left his +entire household in the care of Peter Ledgard. +Was Peter paying for their very food, she wondered? +She'd put a stop to that, anyhow.</p> + +<p>"Jan"—she felt Fay lean a little closer—"don't +be down on me. You've no idea how hard it has +all been. You're such a daylight person yourself."</p> + +<p>"Hard on you, my precious! I could never +feel the least little bit hard. Only it's all so +puzzling. And what do you mean by a 'daylight +person'?"</p> + +<p>"You know, Jan, for three months now I've +been a lot alone, and I've done a deal of thinking—more +than ever in all my life before; and it +seems to me that the world is divided into three +kinds of people—the daylight people, and the +twilight people and the night people."</p> + +<p>Fay paused. Jan stroked her hot, thin hand, +but did not speak, and the tired, whispering voice +went on: "<em>We</em> were daylight people—Daddie was +very daylight. There were never any mysteries; +we all of us knew always where each of us was, +and there were no secrets and no queer people +coming for interviews, and it wouldn't have mat<!-- Page 45 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span>tered +very much if anyone <em>had</em> opened one of our +letters. Oh, it's such an <em>easy</em> life in the daylight +country...."</p> + +<p>"And in the twilight country?" asked Jan.</p> + +<p>"Ah, there it's very different. Everything is +mysterious. You never know where anyone has +gone, and if he's away queer people—quite horrid +people—come and ask for him and won't go +away, and sit in the verandah and cheek the +butler and the boy and insist on seeing the 'memsahib,' +and when she screws up her courage and +goes to them, they ask for money, and show dirty +bits of paper and threaten, and it's all awful—till +somebody like Peter comes and kicks them +out, and then they simply fly."</p> + +<p>In spite of her irritation at being beholden to +him, Jan began to feel grateful to Peter.</p> + +<p>"Sometimes," Fay continued, "I think it would +be easier to be a night person. They've no appearances +to keep up. You see, what makes it so +difficult for the twilight people is that they <em>want</em> +to live in the daylight, and it's too strong for +them. All the night people whom they know—and +if you're twilight you know lots of 'em—come +and drag them back. <em>They</em> don't care. +They rather like to go right in among the daylight +folk and scare and shock them, and make +them uncomfortable. You <em>can't</em> suffer in the +same way when you've gone under altogether."</p> + +<p>"But, Fay dear," Jan interposed, "you talk +as though the twilight people couldn't help +it...."</p> + +<p>"They can't—they truly can't."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 46 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> +"But surely there's right and wrong, straightness +and crookedness, and no one <em>need</em> be crooked."</p> + +<p>"People like you needn't—but everybody isn't +strong like that. Hugo says every man has his +price, and every woman too—Peter says so, too."</p> + +<p>"Then Peter ought to be ashamed of himself. +Do you suppose <em>he</em> has his price?"</p> + +<p>"No, not in that way. He'd think it silly to +be pettifogging and dishonest about money, or +to go in for mad speculations run by shady companies; +but he wouldn't think it <em>extraordinary</em> +like you."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid my education has been neglected. +A great many things seem extraordinary to me."</p> + +<p>"You think it funny I should be living in +Peter's flat, waited on by Peter's servants—but +what else could I do?"</p> + +<p>Jan smiled in the darkness. She saw where +her niece had got "what nelse?"</p> + +<p>"Isn't it just a little—unusual?" she asked +gently. "Is there no money at all, Fay? What +has become of all your own?"</p> + +<p>"It's not all gone," Fay said eagerly. "I think +there's nearly two thousand pounds left, but +Peter made me write home—that was at Dariawarpur, +before he came down here—and say no +more was to be sent out, not even if I wrote myself +to ask for it—and <em>he</em> wrote to Mr. Davidson +too——"</p> + +<p>"I know somebody wrote. Mr. Davidson was +very worried ... but what <em>can</em> Hugo have done +with eight thousand pounds in two years? Besides +his pay...."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 47 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> +"Eight thousand pounds doesn't go far when +you've dealings with money-lenders and mines in +Peru—but <em>I</em> don't understand it—don't ask me. +I believe he left me a little money—I don't know +how much—at a bank in Elphinstone Circle—but +I haven't liked to write and find out, lest it +should be very little ... or none...."</p> + +<p>"Mercy!" exclaimed Jan. "It surely would +be better to know for certain."</p> + +<p>"When you've lived in the twilight country +as long as I have you'll not want to know anything +for certain. It's only when things are +wrapped up in a merciful haze of obscurity that +life is tolerable at all. Do you suppose I <em>wanted</em> +to find out that my husband was a rascal? I +shut my eyes to it as long as I could, and then +Truth came with all her cruel tools and pried +them open. Oh, Jan, it did hurt so!"</p> + +<p>If Fay had cried, if her voice had even broken +or she had seemed deeply moved, it would have +been more bearable. It was the poor thing's +calm—almost indifference—that frightened Jan. +For it proved that her perceptions were numbed.</p> + +<p>Fay had been tortured till she could feel nothing +acutely any more. Jan had the feeling that +in some dreadful, inscrutable way her sister was +shut away from her in some prison-house of the +mind.</p> + +<p>And who shall break through those strange, intangible, +impenetrable walls of unshared experience?</p> + +<p>Jan swallowed her tears and said cheerfully: +"Well, it's all going to be different now. You<!-- Page 48 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> +needn't worry about anything any more. If +Hugo has left no money we'll manage without. +Mr. Davidson will let me have what I want ... +but we must be careful, because of the children."</p> + +<p>"And you'll try not to mind living in Peter's +flat?" Fay said, rubbing her head against Jan's +shoulder. "It's India, you know, and men are +very kind out here—much friendlier than they +are at home."</p> + +<p>"So it seems."</p> + +<p>"You needn't think there's anything wrong, +Jan. Peter isn't in love with me now."</p> + +<p>"Was he ever in love with you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, a bit, once; when he first came to +Dariawarpur ... lots of them were then. I +really was very pretty, and I had quite a little +court ... but when the bad times came and +people began to look shy at Hugo—everybody +was nice to me always—then Peter seemed different. +There was no more philandering, he was +just ... Oh, Jan, he was just such a daylight +person, and might have been Daddie. I should +have died without him."</p> + +<p>"Fay, tell me—I'll never ask again—was Hugo +unkind to you?"</p> + +<p>"No, Jan, truly not unkind. He shut me +away from the greater part of his life ... and +there were other people ... not ladies"—Fay +felt the shoulder she leant against stiffen—"but +I didn't know that for quite a long time ... +and he wasn't ever surly or cross or grudging. +He always wanted me to have everything very +nice, and I really believe he always hoped the<!-- Page 49 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> +mines and things would make lots of money.... +You know, Jan, I'd <em>rather</em> believe in people. I +daresay you think I'm weak and stupid ... +but I can never understand wives who set detectives +on their husbands."</p> + +<p>"It isn't done by the best people," Jan said +with a laugh that was half a sob. "Let's hope +it isn't often necessary...."</p> + +<p>Fay drew a little closer: "Oh, you are dear not +to be stern and scolding...."</p> + +<p>"It's not you I feel like scolding."</p> + +<p>"If you scolded him, he'd agree with every +word, so that you simply couldn't go on ... +and then he'd go away and do just the same +things over again, and fondly hope you'd never +hear of it. But he <em>was</em> kind in lots of ways. +He didn't drink——"</p> + +<p>"I don't see anything so very creditable in +that," Jan interrupted.</p> + +<p>"Well, it's one of the things he didn't do—and +we had the nicest bungalow in the station and +by far the best motor—a much smarter motor +than the Resident. And it was only when I discovered +that Hugo had made out I was an heiress +that I began to feel uncomfortable."</p> + +<p>"Was he good to the children?"</p> + +<p>"He hardly saw them. Children don't interest +him much. He liked little Fay because she's so +pretty, but I don't think he cared a great deal for +Tony. Tony is queer and judging. Don't take +a dislike to Tony, Jan; he needs a long time, but +once you've got him he stays for ever—will you +remember that?"</p> + +<p><!-- Page 50 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> +Again, Jan felt that cold hand laid on her heart, +the hand of chill foreboding. She had noticed +many times already that when Fay was off her +guard she always talked as though, for her, everything +were ended, and she was only waiting for +something. There seemed no permanence in her +relations with them all.</p> + +<p>A shadowy white figure lifted the curtain between +the two rooms and stood salaaming.</p> + +<p>Jan started violently. She was not yet accustomed +to the soundless naked feet of the servants +whose presence might be betrayed by a rustle, +never by a step.</p> + +<p>It was Ayah waiting to know if Fay would +like to go to bed.</p> + +<p>"Shall I go, Jan? Are you tired?"</p> + +<p>Jan was, desperately tired, for she had had no +sleep the night before, but Fay's voice had in it +a little tremor of fear that showed she dreaded +the night.</p> + +<p>"Send her to bed, poor thing. I'll look after +you, brush your hair and tuck you up and +all.... Fay, oughtn't you to have somebody +in your room? Couldn't my cot be put in there, +just to sleep?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Jan, would you? Don't you mind?"</p> + +<p>"Shall I help her to move it?" Jan said, getting +up.</p> + +<p>Fay pulled her down again. "You funny Jan, +you can't do that sort of thing here. The servants +will do it."</p> + +<p>She sat up, gave a rapid, eager order to Ayah, +and in a few minutes Jan heard her bed being<!-- Page 51 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> +wheeled down the passage. Every room had +wide double doors—like French rooms—and there +was no difficulty.</p> + +<p>Fay sank down again among her cushions with +a great sigh of relief: "I don't mind now how soon +I go to bed. I shan't be frightened in the long +dark night any more. Oh, Jan, you <em>are</em> a dear +daylight person!"</p> + +<p><!-- Page 52 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER V<br /> +<span class="sub">THE CHILDREN</span></h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">J</span>AN made headway with Tony and little Fay. +An aunt who carried one pick-a-back; who +trotted, galloped, or curvetted to command as +an animated steed; who provided spades and +buckets, and herself, getting up very early, took +them and the children to an adorable sandy +beach, deserted save for two or three solitary +horsemen; an aunt who dug holes and built castles +and was indirectly the means of thrilling rides +upon a real horse, when Peter was encountered +as one of the mounted few taking exercise before +breakfast; such an aunt could not be regarded +otherwise than as an acquisition, even though +she did at times exert authority and insist upon +obedience.</p> + +<p>She got it, too; especially from little Fay, who, +hitherto, had obeyed nobody. Tony, less wilful +and not so prone to be destructive, was secretly +still unwon, though outwardly quite friendly. +He waited and watched and weighed Jan in the +balance of his small judgment. Tony was never +in any hurry to make up his mind.</p> + +<p>One great hold Jan had was a seemingly inexhaustible +supply of rhymes, songs, and stories, +and she was, moreover, of a telling disposition.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 53 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> +Both children had a quite unusual passion for +new words. Little Fay would stop short in the +midst of the angriest yells if anyone called her +conduct in question by some new term of opprobrium. +Ayah's vocabulary was limited, even in +the vernacular, and nothing would have induced +her to return railing for railing to the children, +however sorely they abused her. But Jan occasionally +freed her mind, and at such times her +speech was terse and incisive. Moreover, she +quickly perceived her power over her niece in this +respect, and traded on the baby's quick ear and +interest.</p> + +<p>One day there was a tremendous uproar in the +nursery just after tiffin, when poor Fay usually +tried to get the sleep that would partially atone +for her restless night. Jan swept down the passage +and into the room, to find her niece netted +in her cot, and bouncing up and down like a +newly-landed trout, while Ayah wrestled with a +struggling Tony, who tried to drown his sister's +screams with angry cries of "Let me get at her +to box her," and, failing that, vigorously boxing +Ayah.</p> + +<p>Jan closed the door behind her and stood where +she was, saying in the quiet, compelling voice +they had both already learned to respect: "It's +time for Mummy's sleep, and how can Mummy +sleep in such a pandemonium?"</p> + +<p>Little Fay paused in the very middle of a yell +and her face twinkled through the restraining net.</p> + +<p>"Pandemolium," she echoed, joyously rolling +it over on her tongue with obvious gusto.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 54 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> +"Pandemolium."</p> + +<p>"She kickened and fit with me," Tony cried +angrily. "I <em>must</em> box her."</p> + +<p>"Pandemolium?" little Fay repeated inquiringly. +"What nelse?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Jan, trying hard not to laugh; +"that's exactly what it was ... disgraceful."</p> + +<p>"What nelse?" little Fay persisted. She had +heard disgraceful before. It lacked novelty.</p> + +<p>"All sorts of horrid things," said Jan. "Selfish +and odious and ill-bred——"</p> + +<p>"White bled, blown bled, ill-bled," the person +under the net chanted. "What nother bled?"</p> + +<p>"There's well-bred," said Jan severely, "and +that's what neither you nor Tony are at the +present moment."</p> + +<p>"There's toas' too," said the voice from under +the net, ignoring the personal application. "Sall +we have some?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not," Jan answered with great +sternness. "People who riot and brawl——"</p> + +<p>"Don't like zose words," the netted one interrupted +distastefully (R's always stumped her), +"naughty words."</p> + +<p>"Not so naughty as the people who do it. +Has Ayah had her dinner? No? Then poor +Ayah must go and have it, and I shall stay here +and tell a very soft, whispery story to people +who are quiet and good, who lie in their cots and +don't quarrel——"</p> + +<p>"Or blawl" came from the net in a small determined +voice. She could not let the new word +pass after all.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 55 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span></p><p>"Exactly ... or brawl," Jan repeated in +tones nothing like so firm.</p> + +<p>"She kickened and fit me, she did," Tony +mumbled moodily as he climbed into his cot: +"Can't I box her nor nothing?"</p> + +<p>"Not now," Jan said, soothingly. Ayah +salaamed and hurried away. She, at all events, +had cause to bless Jan, for now she got her meals +with fair regularity and in peace.</p> + +<p>In a few minutes the room was as quiet as an +empty church, save for a low voice that related +an interminable story about "Cockie-Lockie and +Henny-Penny going to tell the King the lift's fallen," +till one, at all events, of the "blawlers" was +sound asleep.</p> + +<p>The voice ceased and Tony's head appeared +over the rail of his cot.</p> + +<p>"Hush!" Jan whispered. "Sister's asleep. +Just wait a few minutes till Ayah comes, then +I'll take you away with me."</p> + +<p>Faithful Ayah didn't dawdle over her food. +She returned, sat down on the floor beside little +Fay's cot and started her endless mending.</p> + +<p>Jan carried Tony away with her along the +passage and into the drawing-room. The verandah +was too hot in the early afternoon.</p> + +<p>"Now what shall we do?" she asked, with a +sigh, as she sat down on the big sofa. "<em>I'd</em> like +to sleep, but I suppose you won't let me."</p> + +<p>Tony got off her knee and looked at her +gravely.</p> + +<p>"You can," he said, magnanimously, "because +you brought me. I hate bed. I'll build a temple<!-- Page 56 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> +with my bricks and I won't knock it down. Not +loud."</p> + +<p>And like his aunt he did what he said.</p> + +<p>Jan put her feet up and lay very still. For a +week now she had risen early every morning to +take the children out in the freshest part of the +day. She seldom got any rest in the afternoon, +as she saw to it that they should be quiet to let +Fay sleep, and she went late to bed because the +cool nights in the verandah were the pleasant +time for Fay.</p> + +<p>Tony murmured to himself, but he made little +noise with his stone bricks. And presently Jan +was sleeping almost as soundly as her obstreperous +niece.</p> + +<p>Tony did not repeat new words aloud as did +his sister. He turned them over in his mind +and treasured some simply because he liked the +sound of them.</p> + +<p>There were two that he had carried in his +memory for nearly half his life; two that had +for him a mysterious fascination, a vaguely agreeable +significance that he couldn't at all explain. +One was "Piccadilly" and the other "Coln St. +Aldwyn's." He didn't even know that they +were the names of places at first, but he thought +they had a most beautiful sound. Gradually +the fact that they were places filtered into his +mind, and for Tony Piccadilly seemed particularly +rural. He connected it in some way with +the duck-slaying Mrs. Bond of the Baby's Opera, +a book he and Mummy used to sing from before +she grew too tired and sad to sing. Before she<!-- Page 57 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> +lay so many hours in her long chair, before the +big man he called Daddie became so furtive and +disturbing. Then Mummy used to tell him +things about a place called Home, and though +she never actually mentioned Piccadilly he had +heard the word very often in a song that somebody +sang in the drawing-room at Dariawarpur.</p> + +<p>Theatricals had been towards and Mummy +was acting, and people came to practise their +songs with her, for not only did she sing herself +delightfully, but she played accompaniments +well for other people. The play was a singing +play, and the Assistant Superintendent of Police, +a small, fair young man with next to no voice +and a very clear enunciation, continually practised +a song that described someone as walking +"down Piccadilly with a tulip or a lily in his +mediæval hand."</p> + +<p>Tony rather liked "mediæval" too, but not +so much as Piccadilly. A flowery way, he was +sure, with real grass in it like the Resident's +garden. Besides, the "dilly" suggested "daffy-down +dilly come up to town in a yellow petticoat +and a green gown."</p> + +<p>But not even Piccadilly could compete with +Coln St. Aldwyn's in Tony's affections. There +was something about that suggestive of exquisite +peace and loveliness, no mosquitoes and many +friendly beasts. He had only heard the word +once by chance in connection with the mysterious +place called Home, in some casual conversation +when no one thought he was listening. +He seized upon it instantly and it became a<!-- Page 58 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> +priceless possession, comforting in times of stress, +soothing at all times, a sort of refuge from a +real world that had lately been very puzzling +for a little boy.</p> + +<p>He was certain that at Coln St. Aldwyn's +there was a mighty forest peopled by all the +nicest animals. Dogs that were ever ready to +extend a welcoming paw, elephants and mild +clumsy buffaloes that gave good milk to the +thirsty. Little grey squirrels frolicked in the +branches of the trees, and the tiny birds Mummy +told him about that lived in the yew hedge at +Wren's End. Tony had himself been to Wren's +End he was told, but he was only one at the +time, and beyond a feeling that he liked the +name and that it was a very green place his ideas +about it were hazy.</p> + +<p>Sometimes he wished it had been called "Wren +St. Endwyn's," but after mature reflection he +decided it was but a poor imitation of the real +thing, so he kept the two names separate in his +mind.</p> + +<p>He had added two more names to his collection +since he came to Bombay. "Mahaluxmi," +the road running beside the sea, where Peter +sometimes took them and Auntie Jan for a drive +after tea when it was high tide; and "Taraporevala," +who owned a famous book-shop in +Medow Street where he had once been in a tikka-gharri +with Auntie Jan to get some books for +Mummy. Peter had recommended the shop, +and the name instantly seized upon Tony's +imagination and will remain with it evermore.<!-- Page 59 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> +He never for one moment connected it with the +urbane gentleman in eyeglasses and a funny +little round hat who owned the shop. For Tony +"Taraporevala" will always suggest endless vistas +of halls, fitted with books, shelves, and tall stacks +of books, and counters laden with piles of books. +It seemed amazing to find anything so vast in +such a narrow street. There was something +magic about it, like the name. Tony was sure +that some day when he should explore the forest +of Coln St. Aldwyn he would come upon a little +solid door in a great rock. A little solid door +studded with heavy nails and leading to a magic +cave full of unimaginable treasure. This door +should only open to the incantation of "Taraporevala." +None of your "abracadabras" for +him.</p> + +<p>And just as Mummy had talked much of +"Wren's End" in happier days, so now Auntie +Jan told them endless stories about it and what +they would all do there when they went home. +Some day, when he knew her better, he would +ask her about Coln St. Aldwyn's. He felt he +didn't know her intimately enough to do so yet, +but he was gradually beginning to have some +faith in her. She was a well-instructed person, +too, on the whole, and she answered a straight +question in a straight way.</p> + +<p>It was one of the things Tony could never +condone in the big man called Daddie, that he +could never answer the simplest question. He +always asked another in return, and there was +derision of some sort concealed in this circuitous<!-- Page 60 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> +answer. Doubtless he meant to be pleasant and +amusing—Tony was just enough to admit that—but +he was, so Tony felt, profoundly mistaken +in the means he sought. He took liberties, too; +punching liberties that knocked the breath out +of a small boy's body without actually hurting +much; and he never, never talked sense. Tony +resented this. Like the Preacher, he felt there +was a time to jest and a time to refrain from +jesting, and it didn't amuse him a bit to be +punched and rumpled and told he was a surly +little devil if he attempted to punch back. In +some vague way Tony felt that it wasn't playing +the game—if it was a game. Often, too, for +the past year and more, he connected the frequent +disappearances of the big man with trouble +for Mummy. Tony understood Hindustani as +well as and better than English. His extensive +vocabulary in the former would have astonished +his mother's friends had they been able to translate, +and he understood a good deal of the servants' +talk. He felt no real affection for the big, +tiresome man, though he admired him, his size, +his good looks, and a way he had with grown-up +people; but he decided quite dispassionately, on +evidence and without any rancour, that the big +man was a "budmash," for he, unlike Auntie +Jan, never did anything he said he'd do. And +when, before they left Dariawarpur, the big man +entirely disappeared, Tony felt no sorrow, only +some surprise that having said he was going he +actually had gone. Auntie Jan never mentioned +him, Mummy had reminded them both always to<!-- Page 61 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> +include him when they said their prayers, but +latterly Mummy had been too tired to come to +hear prayers. Auntie Jan came instead, and +Tony, watching her face out of half-shut eyes, +tried leaving out "bless Daddie" to see if anything +happened. Sure enough something did; +Auntie Jan looked startled. "Say 'Bless Daddie,' +Tony, 'and please help him.'"</p> + +<p>"To do what?" Tony asked. "Not to come +back here?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think he'll come back here just now," +Auntie Jan said in a frightened sort of whisper, +"but he needs help badly."</p> + +<p>Tony folded his hands devoutly and said, +"Bless Daddie and please help him—to stay +away just now."</p> + +<p>And low down under her breath Jan said, +"Amen."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 62 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER VI<br /> +<span class="sub">THE SHADOW BEFORE</span></h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">J</span>AN had been a week in Bombay, and her grave +anxiety about Fay was in no way lessened. +Rather did it increase and intensify, for not only +did her bodily strength seem to ebb from her +almost visibly day by day, but her mind seemed +so detached and aloof from both present and +future.</p> + +<p>It was only when Jan talked about the past, +about their happy girlhood and their lovable +comrade-father, that Fay seemed to take hold +and understand. All that had happened before +his death seemed real and vital to her. But when +Jan tried to interest her in plans for the future, +the voyage home, the children, the baby that +was due so soon, Fay looked at her with tired, +lack-lustre eyes and seemed at once to become +absent-minded and irrelevant.</p> + +<p>She was ready enough to discuss the characters +of the children, to impress upon Jan the fact that +Tony was not unloving, only cautious and slow +before he really gave his affection. That little +Fay was exactly what she appeared on the surface—affectionate, +quick, wilful, and already conscious +of her own power through her charm.</p> + +<p>"I defy anybody to quarrel with Fay when +she is willing to make it up," her mother said. +"Tony melts like wax before the warmth of her<!-- Page 63 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> +advances. She may have behaved atrociously to +him five minutes before—Ayah lets her, and I +am far too weak with her—but if <em>she</em> wants to +be friends Tony forgets and condones everything. +Was I very naughty to you, Jan, as a baby?"</p> + +<p>"Not that I can remember. I think you were +very biddable and good."</p> + +<p>"And you?"</p> + +<p>Jan laughed—"There you have me. I believe +I was most naughty and obstreperous, and have +vivid recollections of being sent to bed for various +offences. You see, Mother was far too strong +and wise to spoil me as little Fay is spoilt. +Father tried his best, but you remember Hannah? +Could you imagine Hannah submitting for one +moment to the sort of treatment that baby metes +out to poor, patient Ayah every single day?"</p> + +<p>"By the way, how is Hannah?"</p> + +<p>"Hannah is in her hardy usual. She is going +strong, and has developed all sorts of latent talent +as a cook. She was with me in the furnished +flat I rented till the day I left (I only took it by +the month), and she'll be with us again when we +all get back to Wren's End."</p> + +<p>"But I thought Wren's End was let?"</p> + +<p>"Only till March quarter-day, and I've cabled +to the agent not to entertain any other offer, as +we want it ourselves."</p> + +<p>"I like to think of the children at Wren's +End," Fay said dreamily.</p> + +<p>"Don't you like to think of yourself there, too? +Would you like any other place better?"</p> + +<p>Jan's voice sounded constrained and a little<!-- Page 64 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> +hard. People sometimes speak crossly when +they are frightened, and just then Jan felt the +cold, skinny hands of some unnameable terror +clutching her heart. Why did Fay always exclude +herself from all plans?</p> + +<p>They were, as usual, sitting in the verandah +after dinner, and Fay's eyes were fixed on the +deeply blue expanse of sky. She hardly seemed +to hear Jan, for she continued: "Do you remember +the sketch Daddie did of me against the yew +hedge? I'd like Tony to have that some day if +you'd let him."</p> + +<p>"Of course that picture is yours," Jan said, +hastily. "We never divided the pictures when +he died. Some were sold and we shared the +money, but our pictures are at Wren's End."</p> + +<p>"I remember that money," Fay interrupted. +"Hugo was so pleased about it, and gave me a +diamond chain."</p> + +<p>"Fay, where do you keep your jewellery?"</p> + +<p>"There isn't any to keep now. He 'realised' +it all long before we left Dariawarpur."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, Fay? Has Hugo pawned +it? All Mother's things, too?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know what he did with it," Fay said, +wearily. "He told me it wasn't safe in Dariawarpur, +as there were so many robbers about +that hot weather, and he took all the things in +their cases to send to the bank. And I never +saw them again."</p> + +<p>Jan said nothing, but she reflected rather ruefully +that when Fay married she had let her have +nearly all their mother's ornaments, partly be<!-- Page 65 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span>cause +Fay loved jewels as jewels, and Jan cared +little for them except as associations. "If I'd +kept more," Jan thought, "they'd have come in +for little Fay. Now there's nothing except what +Daddie gave me."</p> + +<p>"Are you sorry, Jan?" Fay asked, presently. +"I suppose there again you think I ought to +have stood out, to have made inquiries and insisted +on getting a receipt from the bank. But +I knew very well they were not going to the bank. +I don't think they fetched much, but Hugo looked +a little less harassed after he'd got them. I've +nothing left now but my wedding ring and the +little enamel chain like yours, that Daddie gave +us the year he had that portrait of Meg in the +Salon and took us over to see it. Where is Meg? +Has she come back yet?"</p> + +<p>"Meg is still in Bremen with an odious German +family, but she leaves at the end of the +Christmas holidays, as the girl is going to school, +and Meg will be utilised to bring her over. Then +she's to have a rest for a month or two, and I +daresay she'd come to Wren's End and help us +with the babies when we get back."</p> + +<p>Fay leant forward and said eagerly, "Try to +get her, Jan. I'd love to think she was there to +help you."</p> + +<p>"To help us," Jan repeated firmly.</p> + +<p>Fay sighed. "I can never think of myself as +of much use any more; besides ... Oh, Jan, +won't you face it? You who are so brave about +facing things ... I don't believe I shall come +through—this time."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 66 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> +Jan got up and walked restlessly about the +verandah. She tried to make herself say, heard +her own voice saying without any conviction, that +it was nonsense; that Fay was run down and +depressed and no wonder; and that she would +feel quite different in a month or two. And all +the time, though her voice said these preposterously +banal things, her brain repeated the doctor's +words after his last visit: "I wish there was +a little more stamina, Miss Ross. I don't like +this complete inertia. It's not natural. Can't +you rouse her at all?"</p> + +<p>"My sister has had a very trying time, you +know. She seems thoroughly worn out."</p> + +<p>"I know, I know," the doctor had said. "A +bad business and cruelly hard on her; but I wish +we could get her strength up a bit somehow. I +don't like it—this lack of interest in everything—I +don't like it." And the doctor's thin, clever +face looked lined and worried as he left.</p> + +<p>His words rang in Jan's ears, drowning her own +spoken words that seemed such a hollow sham.</p> + +<p>She went and knelt by Fay's long chair. Fay +touched her cheek very gently (little Fay had the +same adorable tender gestures). "It would make +it easier for both of us if you'd face it, my dear," +she said. "I could talk much more sensibly then +and make plans, and perhaps really be of some +use. But I feel a wretched hypocrite to talk of +sharing in things when I know perfectly well I +shan't be there."</p> + +<p>"Don't you want to be there?" Jan asked, +hoarsely.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<a name="easier" id="easier"></a> +<a href="images/easier-lg.jpg" class="noline"> +<img src="images/easier-thumb.jpg" width="400" height="255" alt="" title="" /> +<span class="caption u"><br />"It would make it easier for both of us if you'd face it, my dear."</span> +</a> +</div> + +<p><!-- Page 67 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> +Fay shook her head. "I know it's mean to +shuffle out of it all, but I <em>am</em> so tired. Do you +think it very horrid of me, Jan?"</p> + +<p>In silence Jan held her close; and in that moment +she faced it.</p> + +<p>The days went on, strange, quiet days of brilliant +sunshine. Their daily life shrouded from +the outside world even as the verandah was +shrouded from the sun when Lalkhan let down +the chicks every day after tiffin.</p> + +<p>Peter was their only visitor besides the doctor, +and Peter came practically every day. He generally +took Jan out after tea, sometimes with the +children, sometimes alone. He even went with +her to the bank in Elphinstone Circle, so like a +bit of Edinburgh, with its solid stone houses, and +found that Hugo actually had lodged fifty pounds +there in Fay's name. The clerks looked curiously +at Jan, for they thought she was Mrs. Tancred. +Every one in business or official circles in Bombay +knew about Hugo Tancred. His conduct had, +for a while, even ousted the usual topics of conversation—money, +food, and woman—from the +bazaars; and an exhaustive discussion of it was +only kept out of the Native Press by the combined +efforts of the Police and his own Department. +Jan gained from Peter a fairly clear idea +of the <i lang="fr">débâcle</i> that had occurred in Hugo Tancred's +life. She no longer wondered that Fay refused +to leave the bungalow. She began to feel +branded herself.</p> + +<p>For Jan, Peter's visits had come to have something +of the relief the loosening of a too-tight<!-- Page 68 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> +bandage gives to a wounded man. He generally +came at tea-time when Fay was at her best, and +he brought her news of her little world at Dariawarpur. +To her sister he seemed the one link +with reality. Without him the heavy dream +would have gone on unbroken. Fay was always +most eager he should take Jan out, and, though +at first Jan had been unwilling, she gradually +came to look upon such times as a blessed break +in the monotonous restraint of her day. With +him she was natural, said what she felt, expressed +her fears, and never failed to return comforted +and more hopeful.</p> + +<p>One night he took her to the Yacht Club, and +Jan was glad she had gone, because it gave her +so much to tell Fay when she got back.</p> + +<p>It was a very odd experience for Jan, this tea +on the crowded lawn of the Yacht Club. She +turned hot when people looked at her, and Jan +had always felt so sure of herself before, so proud +to be a daughter of brilliant, lovable Anthony +Ross.</p> + +<p>Here, she knew that her sole claim to notice +was that she had the misfortune to be Hugo +Tancred's sister-in-law. Fay, too, had once been +joyfully proud and confident—and now!</p> + +<p>Sometimes in the long, still days Jan wondered +whether their father had brought them up to +expect too much from life, to take their happiness +too absolutely as a matter of course. Anthony +Ross had fully subscribed to the R.L.S. doctrine +that happiness is a duty. When they were both +quite little girls he had loved to hear them repeat:</p> +<p><!-- Page 69 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If I have faltered more or less<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In my great task of happiness;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If I have moved among my race<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shown no glorious morning face;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If beams from happy human eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have moved me not; if morning skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Books, and my food and summer rain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Knocked on my sullen heart in vain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lord, Thy most pointed pleasure take,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And stab my spirit broad awake.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Surely as young girls they had both shown a +"glorious morning face." Who more so than +poor Fay? So gay and beautiful and kind. +Why had this come upon her, this cruel, numbing +disgrace and sorrow? Jan was thoroughly rebellious. +Again she went over that time in Scotland +six years before, when, at a big shooting-box up +in Sutherland, they met, among other guests, +handsome Hugo Tancred, home on leave. How +he had, almost at first sight, fallen violently in +love with Fay. How he had singled her out for +every deferent and delicate attention; how she, +young, enthusiastic, happy and flattered, had +fallen quite equally in love with him. Jan recalled +her father's rather comical dismay and +astonishment. His horror when they pressed an +immediate marriage, so that Fay might go out +with Hugo in November. And his final giving-in +to everything Fay wanted because Fay wanted it.</p> + +<p>Did her father really like Hugo Tancred? she +wondered. And then came the certainty that he +wouldn't ever have liked anybody much who +wanted to marry either of them; but he was far +too just and too imaginative to stand in the way<!-- Page 70 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> +where, what seemed, the happiness of his daughter +was concerned.</p> + +<p>"What a gamble it all is," thought Jan, and +felt inclined to thank heaven that she was neither +so fascinating nor as susceptible as Fay.</p> + +<p>How were they to help to set Hugo Tancred on +his legs again, and reconstruct something of a +future for Fay? And then there always sounded, +like a knell, Fay's tired, pathetic voice: "Don't +bother to make plans for me, Jan. For the children, +yes, as much as you like. You are so clever +and constructive—but leave me out, dear, for it's +just a waste of time."</p> + +<p>And the dreadful part of it was that Jan felt +a growing conviction that Fay was right. And +what was more, that Peter felt about it exactly +as Fay did, in spite of his matter-of-fact optimism +at all such times as Jan dared to express her dread.</p> + +<p>Peter learned a good deal about the Ross family +in those talks with Jan. She was very frank +about her affairs, told him what money she had +and how it was invested. That the old house in +Gloucestershire was hers, left directly to her and +not to her father, by a curious freak on the part +of his aunt, one Janet Ross, who disapproved of +Anthony's habit of living up to whatever he +made each year by his pictures, and saving nothing +that he earned.</p> + +<p>"My little girls are safe, anyway," he always +said. "Their mother's money is tied up on +them, though they don't get it except with my +sanction till my death. I can't touch the capital. +Why, then, shouldn't we have an occasional flut<!-- Page 71 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span>ter +when I have a good year, while we are all +young and can enjoy things?"</p> + +<p>They had a great many flutters—for Anthony's +pictures sold well among a rather eclectic set. +His portraits had a certain <i lang="fr">cachet</i> that gave them +a vogue. They were delicate, distinguished, and +unlike other work. The beauties without brains +never succeeded in getting Anthony Ross to paint +them, bribed they never so. But the clever +beauties were well satisfied, and the clever who +were not at all beautiful felt that Anthony Ross +painted their souls, so they were satisfied, too. +Besides, he made their sittings so delightful and +flirted with them with such absolute discretion +always. The year that Hugo Tancred met Fay +was a particularly good year, and Anthony had +bought a touring-car, and they all went up to +Scotland in it. The girls were always well dressed +and went out a good deal. Young as she was, +Jan was already an excellent manager and a +pleasant hostess. She had been taking care of +her father from the time she was twelve years +old, and knew exactly how to manage him. +When there was plenty of money she let him +launch out; when it was spent she made him +draw in again, and he was always quite ready to +do so. Money as money had no charms for +Anthony Ross, but the pleasures it could provide, +the kindnesses it enabled him to do, the +easy travel and the gracious life were precious to +him. He abhorred debt in any form and paid +his way as he went; lavishly when he had it, +justly and exactly always.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 72 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> +On hearing all this Peter came to the conclusion +that Hugo Tancred was not altogether to +blame if he had expected a good deal more financial +assistance from his father-in-law than he got. +Anthony made no marriage settlement on Fay. +He allowed her two hundred a year for her personal +expenses and considered that Hugo Tancred +should manage the running of his own house out +of his quite comfortable salary. He had, of +course, no smallest inkling of Hugo's debts or +gambling propensities. And all might have gone +well if only Anthony Ross had made a new will +when Fay married; a will which tied up her +mother's money and anything he might leave her, +so that she couldn't touch the capital. But nothing +of the kind was done.</p> + +<p>It never occurred to Jan to think of wills.</p> + +<p>Anthony Ross was strong and cheerful and so +exceedingly young at fifty-two that it seemed +absurd that he should have grown-up daughters, +quite ludicrous that he should be a grandfather.</p> + +<p>Many charming ladies would greatly like to +have occupied the position of stepmother to +"those nice girls," but Anthony, universal lover +as he was within strictly platonic limits, showed +no desire to give his girls anything of the sort. +Jan satisfied his craving for a gracious and well-ordered +comfort in all his surroundings. Fay +gratified his æsthetic appreciation of beauty and +gentleness. What would he do with a third +woman who might introduce discord into these +harmonies?</p> + +<p>Fay came home for a short visit when Tony<!-- Page 73 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> +was six months old, as Hugo had not got a very +good station just then. She was prettier than +ever, seemed perfectly happy, and both Anthony +and Jan rejoiced in her.</p> + +<p>After she went out the Tancreds moved to +Dariawarpur, which was considered one of the +best stations in their province, and there little +Fay was born, and it was arranged that Jan and +her father were to visit India and Fay during the +next cold weather.</p> + +<p>But early in the following November Anthony +Ross got influenza, recovered, went out too soon, +got a fresh chill, and in two days developed double +pneumonia.</p> + +<p>His heart gave out, and before his many friends +had realised he was at all seriously ill, he died.</p> + +<p>Jan, stunned, bewildered, and heart-broken, yet +contrived to keep her head. She got rid of the +big house in St. George's Square and most of the +servants, finally keeping only Hannah, her old +Scottish nurse. She paid everybody, rendered +a full account of her stewardship to Fay and Hugo, +and then prepared to go out to India as had been +arranged. Her heart cried out for her only sister.</p> + +<p>To her surprise this proposition met with but +scant enthusiasm. It seemed the Tancreds' plans +were uncertain; perhaps it might be better for +Fay and the children to come home in spring instead +of Jan going out to them. Hugo's letters +were ambiguous and rather cold; Fay's a curious +mixture of abandonment and restraint; but the +prevailing note of both was "would she please do +nothing in a hurry, but wait."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 74 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span> +So, of course, Jan waited.</p> + +<p>She waited two years, growing more anxious +and puzzled as time went on. Her lawyer protested +unavailingly at Hugo's perpetual demands +(of course, backed up by Fay) for more and more +capital that he might "re-invest" it. Fay's letters +grew shorter and balder and more constrained. +At last, quite suddenly, came the imperative +summons to go out at once to be with Fay when +the new baby should arrive.</p> + +<p>And now after three weeks in Bombay Jan +felt that she had never known any other life, that +she never would know any other life than this curious +dream-like existence, this silent, hopeless waiting +for something as afflicting as it was inevitable.</p> + +<p>There had been a great fire in the cotton green +towards Colaba. It had blazed all night, and, +in spite of the efforts of the Bombay firemen and +their engines, was still blazing at six o'clock the +following evening.</p> + +<p>Peter took Jan in his car out to see it. There +was an immense crowd, so they left the car on its +outskirts and plunged into the throng on foot. +On either side of the road were tall, flimsy houses +with a wooden staircase outside; those curious +tenements so characteristic of the poorer parts of +Bombay, and in such marked contrast to the +"Fort," the European quarter of the town. They +were occupied chiefly by Eurasians and very poor +Europeans. That the road was a sea of mud, +varied by quite deep pools of water, seemed the +only possible reason why such houses were not +also burning.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 75 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> +Jan splashed bravely through the mud, interested +and excited by the people and the leaping +flames so dangerously near. It was growing +dusk; the air was full of the acrid smell of burnt +cotton, and the red glow from the sky was reflected +on the grave brown faces watching the fire.</p> + +<p>Any crowd in Bombay is always extremely +varied, and Jan almost forgot her anxieties in her +enjoyment of the picturesque scene.</p> + +<p>"I don't think the people ought to be allowed +to throng on the top of that staircase," Peter said +suddenly. "They aren't built to hold a number +at once; there'll be an accident," and he left her +side for a moment to speak to an inspector of +police.</p> + +<p>Jan looked up at a tall house on her left, where +sightseers were collecting on the staircase to get a +better view. Every window was crowded with +gazers, all but one. From one, quite at the top, +a solitary watcher looked out.</p> + +<p>There was a sudden shout from the crowd below, +a redder glow as more piled cotton fell into +the general furnace and blazed up, and in that +moment Jan saw that the solitary watcher was +Hugo Tancred, and that he recognised her. She +gave a little gasp of horror, which Peter heard as +he joined her again. "What is it?" he said. +"What has frightened you?"</p> + +<p>Jan pointed upwards. "I've just seen Hugo," +she whispered. "There, in one of those windows—the +empty one. Oh, what can he be doing in +those dreadful houses, and why is he in Bombay +all this time and never a word to Fay?"</p> + +<p><!-- Page 76 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> +Jan was trembling. Peter put his hand under +her arm and walked on with her.</p> + +<p>"I knew he was in Bombay," he said, "but +I didn't think the poor devil was reduced to +this."</p> + +<p>"What is to be done?" Jan exclaimed. "If +he comes and worries Fay for money now, it will +kill her. She thinks he is safely out of India. +What <em>is</em> to be done?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing," said Peter. "He'll go the very +minute he can, and you may be sure he'll raise +the wind somehow. He's got all sorts of queer +irons in the fire. He daren't appear at the flat, +or some of his creditors would cop him for debt—it's +watched day and night, I know. Just let +it alone. I'd no idea he was hiding in this region +or I wouldn't have brought you. We all want +him to get clear. He might file his petition, but +it would only rake up all the old scandals, and +they know pretty well there's nothing to be got +out of him."</p> + +<p>"He looked so dreadful, so savage and miserable," +Jan said with a half-sob.</p> + +<p>"Well—naturally," said Peter. "You'd feel +savage and miserable if you were in his shoes."</p> + +<p>"But oughtn't I to help him? Send him +money, I mean."</p> + +<p>"Not one single anna. It'll take you all your +time to get his family home and keep them when +you get there. Have you seen enough? Shall +we go back?"</p> + +<p>"You don't think he'll molest Fay?"</p> + +<p>"I'm certain of it."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 77 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> +"Please take me home. I shall never feel it +safe to leave Fay again for a minute."</p> + +<p>"That's nonsense, you know," said Peter.</p> + +<p>"It's what I feel," said Jan.</p> + +<p>It was that night Tony's extempore prayer was +echoed so earnestly by his aunt.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 78 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER VII<br /> +<span class="sub">THE HUMAN TOUCH</span></h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">T</span>HREE days later Jan got a note from Peter +telling her that Hugo Tancred had left +Bombay and was probably leaving India at once +from one of the smaller ports.</p> + +<p>He had not attempted to communicate in person +or by letter with either Jan or his wife.</p> + +<p>Early in the morning, just a week from the +time Jan had seen Hugo Tancred at the window +of that tall house near the cotton green, Fay's +third child, a girl, was still-born; and Fay, herself, +never recovered consciousness all day. A +most competent nurse had been in the house +nearly a week, the doctor had done all that human +skill could do, but Fay continued to sink rapidly.</p> + +<p>About midnight the nurse, who had been +standing by the bed with her finger on Fay's +pulse, moved suddenly and gently laid down the +weak hand she had been holding. She looked +warningly across at Jan, who knelt at the other +side, her eyes fixed on the pale, beautiful face +that looked so wonderfully young and peaceful.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Fay opened her eyes and smiled. +She looked right past Jan, exclaiming joyfully, +"There you are at last, Daddie, and it's broad +daylight."</p> + +<hr class="space" /> + +<p>For Jan it was still the middle of the Indian +night and very dark indeed.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 79 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> +The servants were all asleep; the little motherless +children safely wrapped in happy unconsciousness +in their nursery with Ayah.</p> + +<p>The last sad offices had been done for Fay, and +the nurse, tired out, was also sleeping—on Jan's +bed.</p> + +<p>Jan, alone of all the household, kept watch, +standing in the verandah, a ghostly figure, still +in the tumbled white muslin frock she had had no +time all day to change.</p> + +<p>It was nearly one o'clock. Motors and carriages +were beginning to come back from Government +House, where there was a reception. The +motor-horns and horses' hoofs sounded loud in +the wide silent street, and the head lights swept +down the Queen's Road like fireflies in flight.</p> + +<p>Jan turned on the light in the verandah. Peter +would perhaps look up and see her standing there, +and realise why she kept watch. Perhaps he +would stop and come up.</p> + +<p>She wanted Peter desperately.</p> + +<p>Compassed about with many relatives and innumerable +friends at home, out here Jan was +singularly alone. In all that great city she knew +no one save Peter, the doctor and the nurse. +Some few women, knowing all the circumstances, +had called and were ready to be kind and helpful +and friendly, as women are all over India, but +Fay would admit none but Peter—even to see +Jan; and always begged her not to return the +calls "till it was all over."</p> + +<p>Well, it was all over now. Fay would never be +timid and ashamed any more.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 80 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> +Jan had not shed a tear. The longing to cry +that had assailed her so continuously in her first +week had entirely left her. She felt clear-headed +and cold and bitterly resentful. She would like +to have made Hugo Tancred go in front of her +into that quiet room and forced him to look at +the girlish figure on the bed—his handiwork. +She wanted to hurt him, to make him more +wretched than he was already.</p> + +<p>A car stopped in the street below. Jan went +very quietly to the door of the flat and listened +at the top of the staircase.</p> + +<p>Steps were on the stairs, but they stopped at +one of the flats below.</p> + +<p>Presently another car stopped. Again she +went out and listened. The steps came up and +up and she switched on the light in the passage.</p> + +<p>This time it was Peter.</p> + +<p>He looked very tired.</p> + +<p>"I thought you would come," Jan said. "She +died at midnight."</p> + +<p>Peter closed the outer door, and taking Jan +by the arm led her back into the sitting-room, +where he put her in a corner of the big sofa and +sat down beside her.</p> + +<p>He could not speak, and Jan saw that the tears +she could not shed were in his eyes, those large +dark eyes that could appear so sombre and then +again so kind.</p> + +<p>Jan watched him enviously. She was acutely +conscious of trifling things. She even noticed +what very black eyebrows he had and how—as +always, when he was either angry or deeply<!-- Page 81 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> +moved—the veins in his forehead stood out in a +strongly-marked V.</p> + +<p>"It was best, I think," Jan said, and even to +herself her voice sounded like the voice of a +stranger. "She would have been very unhappy +if she had lived."</p> + +<p>Peter started at the cool, hard tones, and looked +at her. Then, simply and naturally, like a child, +he took her hand and held it; and there was that +in the human contact, in the firm, comfortable +clasp, that seemed to break something down in +Jan, and all at once she felt weak and faint and +trembling. She leaned her head against the pillows +piled high in the corner where Fay had always +rested. The electric light in the verandah +seemed suddenly to recede to an immense distance +and became a tiny luminous pin-head, like +a far lone star.</p> + +<p>She heard Peter moving about in the dining-room +behind and clinking things, but she felt +quite incapable of going to see what he was doing +or of trying to be hospitable—besides, it was his +house, he knew where things were, and she was +so tired.</p> + +<p>And then he was standing over her, holding a +tumbler against her chattering teeth.</p> + +<p>"Drink it," he said, and, though his voice +sounded far away, it was firm and authoritative. +"Quick; don't pretend you can't swallow, for you +can."</p> + +<p>He tipped the glass, and something wet and +cold ran over her chin: anything was better than +that, and she tried to drink. As she did so she<!-- Page 82 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> +realised she was thirsty, drank it all eagerly and +gasped.</p> + +<p>"Have you had anything to eat all day?" the +dominating voice went on; it sounded much +nearer now.</p> + +<p>"I can't remember," she said, feebly. "Oh, +why did you give me all that brandy, it's made +me so muzzy and confused, and there's so much +I ought to see to."</p> + +<p>"You rest a bit first—you'll be all right presently."</p> + +<p>Someone lifted her by the knees and put the +whole of her on the sofa. It was very comfortable; +she was not so cold now. She lay quite +still and closed her eyes. She had not had a real +night's sleep since she reached Bombay. Fay +was always restless and nervous, and Jan had not +had her clothes off for forty-eight hours. The +long strain was over, there was nothing to watch +and wait for now. She would do as that voice +said, rest for a few minutes.</p> + +<p>There was a white chuddah shawl folded on +the end of the sofa. Fay had liked it spread +over her knees, for she was nearly always chilly.</p> + +<p>Peter opened it and laid it very lightly over +Jan, who never stirred.</p> + +<p>Then he sat down in a comfortable chair some +distance off, where she would see him if she woke, +and reviewed the situation, which was unconventional, +certainly.</p> + +<p>He had sent his car away when he arrived, as +it was but a step to the Yacht Club where he +slept. Now, he felt he couldn't leave, for if Jan<!-- Page 83 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> +woke suddenly she would feel confused and probably +frightened.</p> + +<p>"I never thought so little brandy could have +had such an effect," Peter reflected half ruefully. +"I suppose it's because she'd had nothing to eat. +It's about the best thing that could have happened, +but I never meant to hocus her like this."</p> + +<p>There she lay, a long white mound under the +shawl. She had slipped her hand under her +cheek and looked pathetically young and helpless.</p> + +<p>"I wonder what I'd better do," thought Peter.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Grundy commanded him to go at once. +Common humanity bade him stay.</p> + +<p>Peter was very human, and he stayed.</p> + +<p>About half-past five Jan woke. She was certainly +confused, but not in the least frightened. +It was light, not brilliantly light as it would be a +little later on, but clear and opalescent, as though +the sun were shining through fold upon fold of +grey-blue gauze.</p> + +<p>The electric light in the verandah and the one +over Peter's head were still burning and looked +garish and wan, and Jan's first coherent thought +was, "How dreadfully wasteful to have had them +on all night—Peter's electric light, too"—and +then she saw him.</p> + +<p>His body was crumpled up in the big chair; his +legs were thrust out stiffly in front of him. He +looked a heartrending interpretation of discomfort +in his evening clothes, for he hadn't even +loosened the collar. He had thought of it, but +felt it might be disrespectful to Jan. Besides,<!-- Page 84 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> +there was something of the chaperon about that +collar.</p> + +<p>Jan's tears that had refused to soften sorrow +during the anguish of the night came now, hot +and springing, to blur that absurd, pathetic figure +looped sideways in the big chair.</p> + +<p>It was so plain why he was there.</p> + +<p>She sniffed helplessly (of course, she had lost +her handkerchief), and thrust her knuckles into +her eyes like any schoolboy.</p> + +<p>When she could see again she noticed how thin +was the queer, irregular face, with dark hollows +round the eyes.</p> + +<p>"I wonder if they feed him properly at that +Yacht Club," thought Jan. "And here are we +using his house and his cook and everything."</p> + +<p>She swung her feet off the sofa and disentangled +them from the shawl, folded it neatly and +sat looking at Peter, who opened his eyes.</p> + +<p>For a full minute they stared at each other in +silence, then he stretched himself and rose.</p> + +<p>"I say, have you slept?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Till a minute ago ... Mr. Ledgard ... +why did you stay? It was angelic of you, but +you must be so dreadfully tired. I feel absolutely +rested and, oh, so grateful—but so +ashamed...."</p> + +<p>"Then you must have some tea," said Peter, +inconsequently. "I'll go and rouse up Lalkhan +and the cook. We can't get any ourselves, for +he locks up the whole show every blessed night."</p> + +<hr class="space" /> + +<p>In the East burial follows death with the greatest +possible speed. Peter and the doctor and<!-- Page 85 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> +the nurse arranged everything. A friend of +Peter's who had little children sent for Ayah and +Tony and little Fay to spend the day, and Jan +was grateful.</p> + +<p>Fay and her baby were laid in the English cemetery, +and Jan was left to face the children as +best she could.</p> + +<p>They had been happy, Ayah said, with the kind +lady and her children. Tony went straight to +his mother's room, the room that had been closed +to him for three whole days.</p> + +<p>He came back to Jan and stood in front of her, +searching her face with his grave, judging gaze.</p> + +<p>"What have you done with my Mummy?" he +asked. "Have you carried her away and put her +somewhere like you do Fay when she's naughty? +You're strong enough."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Tony!" Jan whispered piteously. "I +would have kept her if I could, but I wasn't +strong enough for that."</p> + +<p>"Who has taken her, then?" Tony persisted. +"Where is she? I've been everywhere, and she +isn't in the bungalow."</p> + +<p>"God has taken her, Tony."</p> + +<p>"What for?"</p> + +<p>"I think," Jan said, timidly, "it was because +she was very tired and ill and unhappy——"</p> + +<p>"But is she happier now and better?"</p> + +<p>"I hope so, I believe she is ... quite happy +and well."</p> + +<p>"You're sure?" And Tony's eyes searched +Jan's face. "You're sure <em>you</em> haven't put her +somewhere?"</p> + +<p>"Tony, I want Mummy every bit as much as<!-- Page 86 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> +you do. Be a little good to me, sonny, for I'm +dreadfully sad."</p> + +<p>Jan held out her hand and Tony took it doubtfully. +She drew him nearer.</p> + +<p>"Try to be good to me, Tony, and love me a +little ... it's all so hard."</p> + +<p>"I'll be good," he said, gravely, "because I +promised Mummy ... but I can't love you yet—because—" +here Tony sighed deeply, "I don't +seem to feel like it."</p> + +<p>"Never mind," said Jan, lifting him on to her +knee. "Never mind. I'll love you an extra lot +to make up."</p> + +<p>"And Fay?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"And Fay—we must both love Fay more than +ever now."</p> + +<p>"I do love Fay," Tony said, "because I'm used +to her. She's been here a long time...."</p> + +<p>Suddenly his mouth went down at the corners +and he leant against Jan's shoulder to hide his +face. "I do want Mummy so," he whispered, +as the slow, difficult tears welled over and fell. +"I like so much to look at her."</p> + +<hr class="space" /> + +<p>It was early afternoon, the hot part of the day. +The children were asleep and Jan sat on the big +sofa, finishing a warm jersey for little Fay to +wear towards the end of the voyage. Peter, by +means of every scrap of interest he possessed, +had managed to secure her a three-berth cabin +in a mail boat due to leave within the next fortnight. +He insisted that she must take Ayah, +who was more than eager to go, and that Ayah<!-- Page 87 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> +could easily get a passage back almost directly +with people he knew who were coming out soon +after Jan got home. He had written to them, +and they would write to meet the boat at Aden.</p> + +<p>There was nothing Peter did not seem able to +arrange.</p> + +<p>In the flat below a lady was singing the "Indian +Love Lyrics" from the "Garden of Khama." +She had a powerful voice and sang with considerable +passion.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Less than the dust beneath thy chariot wheel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Less than the rust that never stained thy sword.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Jan frowned and fidgeted.</p> + +<p>The song went on, finished, and then the lady +sang it all over again. Jan turned on the electric +fan, for it was extremely hot, and the strong contralto +voice made her feel even hotter. The +whirr of the fan in no way drowned the voice, +which now went on to proclaim with much <i lang="it">brio</i> +that the temple bells were ringing and the month +of marriages was drawing near. And then, very +slowly and solemnly, but quite as loudly as before, +came "When I am dying, lean over me tenderly——"</p> + +<p>Jan got up and stamped. Then she went +swiftly for her topee and gloves and parasol, and +fled from the bungalow.</p> + +<p>Lalkhan rushed after her to ask if she wanted +a "tikka-gharri." He strongly disapproved of +her walking in the streets alone, but Jan shook +her head. The lift-man was equally eager to +procure one, but again Jan defeated his desire<!-- Page 88 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> +and walked out into the hot street. Somehow +she couldn't bear "The Garden of Khama" just +then. It was Hugo Tancred's favourite verse, +and was among the few books Fay appeared to +possess, Fay who was lying in the English cemetery, +and so glad to be there ... at twenty-five.</p> + +<p>What was the good of life and love, if that was +all it led to? In spite of the heat Jan walked +feverishly and fast, down the shady side of the +Mayo Road into Esplanade Road, where the big +shops were, and, just then, no shade at all.</p> + +<p>The hot dust seemed to rise straight out of the +pavement and strike her in the face, and all the +air was full of the fat yellow smell that prevails +in India when its own inhabitants have taken +their mid-day meal.</p> + +<p>Each bare-legged gharri-man slumbered on +the little box of his carriage, hanging on in that +amazingly precarious fashion in which natives +of the East seem able to sleep anywhere.</p> + +<p>On Jan went, anywhere, anywhere away from +the garden of Khama and that travesty of love, +as she conceived it. She remembered the day +when she thought them such charming songs and +thrilled in sympathy with Fay when Hugo sang +them. Oh, why did that woman sing them to-day? +Would she ever get the sound out of her +ears?</p> + +<p>She had reached Churchgate Street, which was +deserted and deep in shade. She turned down +and presently came to the Cathedral standing in +its trim garden bright with English flowers. The +main door was open and Jan went in.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 89 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> +Here the haunting love-lyrics were hushed. It +was so still, not even a sweeper to break the +blessed peace.</p> + +<p>Restlessly, Jan walked round the outer aisles, +reading the inscriptions on marble tablets and +brasses, many of them dating back to the later +eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. Men +died young out in India in those days; hardly any +seemed to live beyond forty-two, many died in +the twenties. On nearly all the tablets the +words "zeal" or "zealous" regularly appeared. +With regard to their performance of their duties +these dead and gone men who had helped to +make the India of to-day had evidently had a +very definite notion as to their own purpose in +life. The remarks were guarded and remarkably +free from exaggerated tributes to the virtues they +celebrated. One Major-General Bellasis was described +as "that very respectable Officer—who +departed this life while he was in the meritorious +discharge of his duty presiding at the Military +Board." Others died "from exposure to the +sun"; nearly all seemed to have displayed "unremitting" +or "characteristic zeal" in the discharge +of their duties.</p> + +<p>Jan sat down, and gradually it seemed as +though the spirits and souls of those departed +men, those ordinary everyday men—whose descendants +might probably be met any day in the +Yacht Club now—seemed to surround her in a +great company, all pointing in one direction and +with one voice declaring, "This is the <span class="smcap">Way</span>."</p> + +<p>Jan fell on her knees and prayed that her<!-- Page 90 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> +stumbling feet might be guided upon it, that she +should in no wise turn aside, however steep and +stony it might prove.</p> + +<p>And as she knelt there came upon her the conviction +that here was the true meaning of life as +lived upon the earth; just this, that each should +do his job.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 91 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER VIII<br /> +<span class="sub">THE END OF THE DREAM</span></h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">S</span>HE walked back rather slowly. It was a little +cooler, but dusty, and the hot pavements +made her feet ache. She was just wondering +whether she would take a gharri when a motor +stopped at the curb and Peter got out.</p> + +<p>"What are you doing?" he asked crossly. +"Why are you walking in all this heat? You +can't play these games in India. Get in."</p> + +<p>He held the door open for her.</p> + +<p>"Good afternoon, Mr. Ledgard," Jan said, +sweetly. "Is it worth while for such a little +way?"</p> + +<p>"Get in," Peter said again, and Jan meekly +got in.</p> + +<p>"I was just coming to see you, and I could +have taken you anywhere you wanted to go, if +only you'd waited. Why didn't you take a +gharri?"</p> + +<p>"Since you must know," Jan said, smiling at +the angry Peter, "I went out because I wanted +to go out. And I walked because I wanted to +walk."</p> + +<p>"You can't do things just because you want +to do 'em in this infernal country—you must consider +whether it's a suitable time."</p> + +<p>Jan made no answer, and silence reigned till +they reached the bungalow.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 92 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> +Peter followed her in.</p> + +<p>"Where did you go?" he asked. "And why?"</p> + +<p>"I went to the Cathedral, and my reason was +that I simply couldn't stay in the bungalow because +the lady below was singing 'Less than the +dust.'"</p> + +<p>"I know," Peter said grimly. "Just the sort +of thing she would sing."</p> + +<p>"She sang very well," Jan owned honestly, +"but when Fay was first engaged she and Hugo +used to sing those songs to each other—it seemed +all day long—and this afternoon I couldn't bear +it. It seemed such a sham somehow—so false +and unreal, if it only led—to this."</p> + +<p>"It's real enough while it lasts, you know," +Peter remarked in the detached, elderly tone he +sometimes adopted. "That sort of thing's all +right for an episode, but it's a bit too thin for +marriage."</p> + +<p>"But surely episodes often end in marriage?"</p> + +<p>"Not that sort, and if they do it's generally +pretty disastrous. A woman who felt she was +less than the dust and rust and weeds and all +that rot wouldn't be much good to a man who +had to do his job, for she wouldn't do hers, you +know."</p> + +<p>"Then you, too, think that's the main thing—to +do your job?"</p> + +<p>"It seems to me it's the only thing that justifies +one's existence. Anyway, to try to do it +decently."</p> + +<p>"And you don't think one ought to expect to +be happy and have things go smoothly?"</p> + +<p><!-- Page 93 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> +"Well, they won't always, you know, whether +you expect it or not; but the job remains, so it's +just as well to make up your mind to it."</p> + +<p>"I suppose," Jan said thoughtfully, "that's a +religion."</p> + +<p>"It pans out as well as most," said Peter.</p> + +<p>The days that had gone so slowly went quickly +enough now. Jan had much to arrange and no +word came from Hugo. She succeeded in getting +the monthly bills from the cook, and paid them, +and very timidly she asked Peter if she might +pay the wages for the time his servants had +waited upon them; but Peter was so huffy and +cross she never dared to mention it again.</p> + +<p>The night before they all sailed Peter dined +with her, and, after dinner, took her for one last +drive over Malabar Hill. The moon was full, +and when they reached Ridge Road he stopped +the car and they got out and stood on the cliff, +looking over the city just as they had done on +her first evening in Bombay.</p> + +<p>Some scented tree was in bloom and the air +was full of its soft fragrance.</p> + +<p>For some minutes they stood in silence, then +Jan broke it by asking: "Mr. Ledgard, could +Hugo take the children from me?"</p> + +<p>"He could, of course, legally—but I don't for +a minute imagine he will, for he couldn't keep +them. What about his people? Will they want +to interfere?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think so; from the little he told us +they are not very well off. They live in Guernsey. +His father was something in salt, I think, out<!-- Page 94 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> +here. We've none of us seen them. They didn't +come to Fay's wedding. I gather they are very +strict in their views—both his father and mother—and +there are two sisters. But Fay said Hugo +hardly ever wrote—or heard from them."</p> + +<p>"There's just one thing you must face, Miss +Ross," and Peter felt a brute as he looked at +Jan pale and startled in the bright moonlight. +"Hugo Tancred might marry again."</p> + +<p>"Oh, surely no one would marry him after all +this!"</p> + +<p>"Whoever did would probably know nothing +of 'all this.' Remember Hugo Tancred has a +way with women; he's a fascinating chap when +he likes, he's good-looking and plausible, and always +has an excellent reason for all his misfortunes. +If he does marry again he'll marry money, +and <em>then</em> he might demand the children."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps she wouldn't want them."</p> + +<p>"We'll hope not."</p> + +<p>"And I can do nothing—nothing to make +them safe?"</p> + +<p>"I fear—nothing—only your best for them."</p> + +<p>"I'll do that," said Jan.</p> + +<p>They stood shoulder to shoulder in the scented +stillness of the night. The shadows were black +and sharp in the bright moonlight and the tom-toms +throbbed in the city below.</p> + +<p>"I wonder," Jan said presently, "if I shall ever +be able to do anything for you, Mr. Ledgard. +You have done everything for us out here."</p> + +<p>"Would you really like to do something?" +Peter asked eagerly. "I wouldn't have men<!-- Page 95 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span>tioned +it if you hadn't said that just now. Would +you write pretty often? You see, I've no people +of my very own. Aunts and uncles and cousins +don't keep in touch with one out here. They're +kind, awfully kind when I go home on leave, but +it takes a man's own folk to remember to write +every mail."</p> + +<p>"I'll write every mail," Jan promised eagerly, +"and when you take your next leave, remember +we expect you at Wren's End."</p> + +<p>"I'll remember," said Peter, "and it may be +sooner than you think."</p> + +<p>They sailed next day. Jan had spent six weeks +in Bombay, and the whole thing seemed a dream.</p> + +<p>The voyage back was very different from the +voyage out. The boat was crowded, and nearly +all were Service people going home on leave. +Jan found them very kind and friendly, and the +children, with plenty of others to play with, +were for the most part happy and good.</p> + +<p>The journey across France was rather horrid. +Little Fay was as obstreperous as Tony was disagreeably +silent and aloof. Jan thanked heaven +when the crowded train steamed into Charing +Cross.</p> + +<p>There, at the very door of their compartment, +a girl was waiting. A girl so small, she might +have been a child except for a certain decision +and capability about everything she did. She +seized Jan, kissed her hurriedly and announced +that she had got a nice little furnished flat for +them till they should go to the country, and that +Hannah had tea ready; this young person, her<!-- Page 96 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span>self, +helped to carry their smaller baggage to a +taxi, packed them in, demanded Jan's keys and +announced that she would bring the luggage in +another taxi. She gave the address to the man, +and a written slip to Jan, and vanished to collect +their cabin baggage.</p> + +<p>It was all done so briskly and efficiently that +it left Ayah and the children quite breathless, +accustomed as they were to the leisurely methods +of the East.</p> + +<p>"Who is vat mem?" asked little Fay, as the +taxi door was slammed by this energetic young +person.</p> + +<p>"Is she quite a mem?" suggested the accurate +Tony. "Is she old enough or big enough?"</p> + +<p>"Who is vat mem?" little Fay repeated.</p> + +<p>"That," said Jan with considerable satisfaction +in her voice, "is Meg."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 97 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER IX<br /> +<span class="sub">MEG</span></h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">I</span>T was inevitable as the refrain of a <i lang="fr">rondeau</i> +that when Jan said "that's Meg" little Fay +should demand "What nelse?"</p> + +<p>Now there was a good deal of "nelse" about +Meg, and she requires some explanation, going +back several years.</p> + +<p>Like most Scots, Anthony Ross had been +faithful to his relations whether he felt affection +for them or not; sometimes even when they had +not a thought in common with him and he rather +disliked them than otherwise.</p> + +<p>And this was so in the case of one Amelia +Ross, his first cousin, who was head-mistress of +a flourishing and well-established school for +"young ladies," in the Regent's Park district.</p> + +<p>She had been a head-mistress for many years, +and was well over fifty when she married a meek, +small, nothingly man who had what Thackeray +calls "a little patent place." And it appeared +that she added the husband to the school in much +the same spirit as she would have increased the +number of chairs in her dining-room, and with +no more appreciable result in her life. On her +marriage she became Mrs. Ross-Morton, and +Mr. Morton went in and out of the front door, +breakfasted and dined at Ribston Hall, caught<!-- Page 98 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> +his bus at the North Gate and went daily to his +meek little work. It is presumed that he lived +on terms of affectionate intimacy with his wife, +but no one who saw them together could have +gathered this.</p> + +<p>Now Anthony Ross disliked his cousin Amelia. +He detested her school, which he considered was +one of the worst examples of a bad old period. +He suspected her of being hard and grasping, +he knew she was dull, and her husband bored +him—not to tears, but to profanity. Yet since +she was his cousin and a hard-working, upright +woman, and since they had played together as +children in Scotland and her father and mother +had been kind to him then, he could never bring +himself to drop Amelia. Not for worlds would +he have allowed Jan or Fay to go to her school, +but he did allow them, or rather he humbly entreated +them, to visit it occasionally when invited +to some function or other. Jan's education +after her mother's death had been the thinnest +scrape sandwiched between many household cares +and much attendance upon her father's whims. +Fay was allowed classes and visiting governesses, +but their father could never bring himself to +spare either of them to the regular discipline of +school, and Cousin Amelia bewailed the desultory +training of Anthony's children.</p> + +<p>In 1905, Jan and Fay had been to a party at +Ribston Hall: tea in the garden followed by a +pastoral play. Anthony was sitting in the balcony, +smoking, when the girls came back. He +saw their hansom and ran downstairs to meet<!-- Page 99 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> +them, as he always did. They were a family who +went in for affectionate greetings.</p> + +<p>"Daddie," cried Fay, seizing her father by the +arm, "one of the seven wonders of the world has +happened. We have found an interesting person +at Ribston Hall."</p> + +<p>Jan took the other arm. "We can't possibly +tell you all about it under an hour, so we'd better +go and sit in the balcony." And they gently +propelled him towards the staircase.</p> + +<p>"Not if you're going to discuss Cousin Amelia," +Anthony protested. "You have carrying voices, +both of you."</p> + +<p>"Cousin Amelia is only incidental," Jan said, +when they were all three seated in the balcony. +"The main theme is concerned with a queer +little pixie creature called Meg Morton. She's +a pupil-governess, and she's sixteen and a half—just +the same age as Fay."</p> + +<p>"She doesn't reach up to Jan's elbow," Fay +added, "and she chaperons the girls for music +and singing, and sits in the drawing-class because +the master can't be quite seventy yet."</p> + +<p>"She's the wee-est thing you ever saw, and +they dress her in Cousin Amelia's discarded Sunday +frocks."</p> + +<p>"That's impossible," Anthony interrupted. +"Amelia is so massive and square; if the girl's +so small she'd look like 'the Marchioness.'"</p> + +<p>"She does, she does!" Jan cried delightedly. +"Of course the garments are 'made down,' but +in the most elderly way possible. Daddie, can +you picture a Botticelli angel of sixteen, with<!-- Page 100 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> +masses of Titian-red hair, clad in a queer plush +garment once worn by Cousin Amelia, that retains +all its ancient frumpiness of line. And it's +not only her appearance that's so quaint, <em>she</em> is +quaint inside."</p> + +<p>"We were attracted by her hair," Fay went +on "(You'll go down like a ninepin before that +hair), and we got her in a corner and hemmed +her in and declared it was her duty to attend to +us because we were strangers and shy, and in +three minutes we were friends. Sixteen, Daddie! +And a governess-pupil in Cousin Amelia's school. +She's a niece of the little husband, and Cousin +Amelia is preening herself like anything because +she takes her for nothing and makes her work +like ten people."</p> + +<p>"Did the little girl say so?"</p> + +<p>"Of course not," Jan answered indignantly, +"but Cousin Amelia did. Oh, how thankful I +am she is <em>your</em> cousin, dear, and once-removed +from us!"</p> + +<p>"How many generations will it take to remove +her altogether?" Fay asked. "However," she +added, "if we can have the pixie out and give +her a good time I shan't mind the relationship so +much. We <em>must</em> do something, Daddie. What +shall it be?"</p> + +<p>Anthony Ross smoked thoughtfully and said +very little. Perhaps he did not even listen with +marked attention, because he was enjoying his +girls. Just to see them healthy and happy; to +know that they were naturally kind and gay; +to hear them frank and eager and loquacious<!-- Page 101 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span>—sometimes +gave him a sensation of almost physical +pleasure. He was like an idler basking in the +sun, conscious of nothing but just the warmth +and comfort of it.</p> + +<p>Whatever those girls wanted they always got. +Anthony's diplomacy was requisitioned and was, +as usual, successful; for, in spite of her disapproval, +Mrs. Ross-Morton could never resist +her cousin's charm. This time the result was +that one Saturday afternoon in the middle of +June little Meg Morton, bearing a battered +leather portmanteau and clad in the most-recently-converted +plush abomination, appeared at +the tall house in St. George's Square to stay over +the week-end.</p> + +<p>It was the mid-term holiday, and from the +first moment to the last the visit was one almost +delirious orgy of pleasure to the little pupil-governess.</p> + +<p>It was also a revelation.</p> + +<p>It would be hard to conceive of anything +odder than the appearance of Meg Morton at +this time. She just touched five feet in height, +and was very slenderly and delicately made, +with absurd, tiny hands and feet. Yet there +was a finish about the thin little body that proclaimed +her fully grown. Her eyes, with their +thick, dark lashes, looked overlarge in the pale +little pointed face; strange eyes and sombre, +with big, bright pupil, and curious dark-blue iris +flecked with brown. Her features were regular, +and her mouth would have been pretty had the +lips not lacked colour. As it was, all the colour<!-- Page 102 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> +about Meg seemed concentrated in her hair; +red as a flame and rippled as a river under a +fresh breeze. There was so much of it, too, the +little head seemed bowed in apology beneath +its weight.</p> + +<p>Yet for the time being Meg forgot to be apologetic +about her hair, for Anthony and his girls +frankly admired it.</p> + +<p>These adorable, kind, amusing people actually +admired it, and said so. Hitherto Meg's experience +had been that it was a thing to be slurred +over, like a deformity. If mentioned, it was to +be deprecated. In the strictly Evangelical circles +where hitherto her lot had been cast, they even +tried vainly to explain it away.</p> + +<p>She had, of course, heard of artists, but she +never expected to meet any. That sort of thing +lay outside the lives of those who had to make +their living as quickly as possible in beaten +tracks; tracks so well-beaten, in fact, that all +the flowers had been trodden underfoot and +exterminated.</p> + +<p>Meg, at sixteen, had received so little from +life that her expectations were of the humblest. +And as she stood before the glass in a pretty +bedroom, fastening her one evening dress (of +shiny black silk that crackled, made with the +narrow V in front affected by Mrs. Ross-Morton), +preparatory to going to the play for the first +time in her life, she could have exclaimed, like the +little old woman of the story, "This be never I!"</p> + +<p>Anthony Ross was wholly surprising to Meg.</p> + +<p>This handsome, merry gentleman with thick,<!-- Page 103 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> +brown hair as crinkly as her own; who was +domineered over and palpably adored by these +two, to her, equally amazing girls—seemed so +very, very young to be anybody's father.</p> + +<p>He frankly owned to enjoying things.</p> + +<p>Now, according to Meg's experience, grown-up +people—elderly people—seldom enjoyed anything; +above all, never alluded to their enjoyment.</p> + +<p>Life was a thing to be endured with fortitude, +its sorrows borne with Christian resignation; +its joys, if there were any joys, discreetly slurred +over. Joys were insidious, dangerous things +that might lead to the leaving undone of obvious +duties. To seek joy and insure its being shared +by others, bravely and honestly believing it to +be an excellent thing, was to Meg an entirely +unknown frame of mind.</p> + +<p>After the play, in Meg's room the three girls +were brushing their hair together; to be accurate, +Jan was brushing Fay's and Meg admiring +the process.</p> + +<p>"Have you any sisters?" Jan asked. She +was always interested in people's relations.</p> + +<p>"No," said Meg. "There are, mercifully, only +three of us, my two brothers and me. If there +had been any more I don't know what my poor +little Papa would have done."</p> + +<p>"Why do you call him your 'poor little papa'?" +Fay asked curiously.</p> + +<p>"Because he is poor—dreadfully—and little, +and very melancholy. He suffers so from depression."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 104 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> +"Why?" asked the downright Jan.</p> + +<p>"Partly because he has indigestion, <em>constant</em> +indigestion, and then there's us, and boys are +so expensive, they will grow so. It upsets him +dreadfully."</p> + +<p>"But they can't help growing," Fay objected.</p> + +<p>"It wouldn't matter so much if they didn't +both do it at once. But you see, there's only a +year between them, and they're just about the +same size. If only one had been smaller, he +could have worn the outgrown things. As it is, +it's always new clothes for both of them. Papa's +are no sort of use, and even the cheapest suits +cost a lot, and boots are perfectly awful."</p> + +<p>Meg looked so serious that Fay and Jan, who +were like the lilies of the field, and expected new +and pretty frocks at reasonable intervals as a +matter of course, looked serious too; for the +first time confronted by a problem whose possibility +they had never even considered before.</p> + +<p>"He must be pleased with you," Jan said, +encouragingly. "<em>You're</em> not too big."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but then I'm not a boy. Papa's clothes +would have made down for me beautifully if +I'd been a boy; as it is, they're no use." Meg +sighed, then added more cheerfully. "But I +cost less in other ways, and several relations +send old clothes to me. They are never too +small."</p> + +<p>"Do you like the relations' clothes?" Fay +asked.</p> + +<p>"Of course not," said Meg, simply. "They<!-- Page 105 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> +are generally hideous; but, after all, they cover +me and save expense."</p> + +<p>The spoiled daughters of Anthony Ross gazed +at Meg with horror-stricken eyes. To them +this seemed a most tragic state of things.</p> + +<p>"Do they all," Fay asked timidly, "wear +such ... rich materials—like Cousin Amelia?"</p> + +<p>"They're fond of plush, as a rule, but there's +velveteen as well, and sometimes a cloth dress. +One was mustard-coloured, and embittered my +life for a whole year."</p> + +<p>Jan suddenly ceased to brush Fay's hair and +went and sat on the bed beside Meg and put her +arm round her. Fay's pretty face, framed in +fluffy masses of fair hair, was solemn in excess +of sympathy.</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't care a bit if only the boys were +through Sandhurst and safely into the Indian +Army—but I do hate them having to go without +nearly everything. Trevor's a King's Cadet, +but they wouldn't give us two cadetships ... +Still," she added, more cheerfully, "it's cheaper +than anything else for a soldier's son."</p> + +<p>"Is your father a soldier?" asked Jan.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, a major in the Westshires; but he +had to leave the Army because of his health, and +his pension is very small, and mother had so +little money. I sometimes think it killed her +trying to do everything on nothing."</p> + +<p>"Were you quite small when she died?" Fay +asked in a sympathetic whisper.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no; I was nearly twelve, and quite as big +as I am now. Then I kept house while the boys<!-- Page 106 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> +were at Bedford, but when they went to Sandhurst +poor little Papa thought I'd better get +some education, too, and Uncle John's wife +offered to take me for nothing, so here I am. +<span class="smcap">Here</span>, it's too wonderful. Who could have +dreamed that Ribston Hall would lead to this?" +And Meg snuggled down in Jan's kind embrace, +her red hair spread around her like a veil.</p> + +<p>"Are some of the richly-dressed relations +nice?" Jan asked hopefully.</p> + +<p>"I don't know if you'd think them nice—you +seem to expect such a lot from people—but +they're quite kind—only it's a different sort of +kindness from yours here. They don't laugh +and expect you to enjoy yourself, like <em>your</em> father. +My brothers say they are dull ... they call +them—I'm afraid it's very ungrateful—the weariful +rich. But I expect we're weariful to them +too. I suppose poor relations <em>are</em> boring if you're +well-off yourself. But we get pretty tired, too, +when they talk us over."</p> + +<p>"But do you mean to say they talk you over +<em>to</em> you?"</p> + +<p>"Always," Meg said firmly. "How badly we +manage, how improvident we are, how Papa +ought to rouse himself and I ought to manage +better, and how foolish it is to let the boys go +into the Army instead of banks and things ... +And yet, you know, it hasn't cost much for +Trevor, and once he's in he'll be able to manage, +and Jo said he'd enlist if there was any more +talk of banks, and poor little Papa had to give +in—so there it is."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 107 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> +"How much older are they than you?" Jan +asked.</p> + +<p>"Trevor's nineteen and Jo's eighteen, and they +are the greatest darlings in the world. They +always lifted the heavy saucepans for me at +Bedford, and filled the buckets and did the outsides +of the windows, and carried up the coals to +Papa's sitting-room before they went to school +in the morning, and they very seldom grumbled +at my cooking...."</p> + +<p>"But where were the servants?" Fay asked +innocently.</p> + +<p>Meg laughed. "Oh, we couldn't have any +servants. A woman came in the morning. Papa +dined at his club, and I managed for the boys +and me. But, oh dear, they do eat a lot, and +joints are so dear. Sheep's heads and things +pall if you have them more than once a week. +They're such a mixty sort of meat, so gummy."</p> + +<p>"<em>I</em> can cook," Jan announced, then added +humbly, "at least, I've been to classes, but I +don't get much practice. Cook isn't at all fond +of having me messing in her kitchen."</p> + +<p>"It isn't the cooking that's so difficult," said +Meg; "it's getting things to cook. It's all very +well for the books to say 'Take' this and that. +My experience is that you can never 'take' anything. +You have to buy every single ingredient, +and there's never anything like enough. We +tried being fruitarians and living on dates and +figs and nuts all squashed together, but it didn't +seem to come a bit cheaper, for the boys were +hungry again directly and said it was hog-wash."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 108 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> +"Was your papa a fruitarian too?" Fay asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, he can't play those tricks; he has to +be most careful. He never had his meals with +us. Our meals would have been too rough for +him. I got him breakfast and afternoon tea. +He generally went out for the others."</p> + +<p>Jan and Fay looked thoughtful.</p> + +<hr class="space" /> + +<p>Amelia Ross-Morton was a fair judge of character. +When she consented to take her husband's +niece as a governess-pupil she had been dubious +as to the result. She very soon discovered, however, +that the small red-haired girl was absolutely +trustworthy, that she had a power of keeping +order quite disproportionate to her size, that she +got through a perfectly amazing amount of work, +and did whatever she was asked as a matter of +course. Thus she became a valuable factor in +the school, receiving nothing in return save her +food and such clothes as Mrs. Ross-Morton considered +too shabby for her own wear.</p> + +<p>At the end of the first year Meg ceased to +receive any lessons. Her day was fully occupied +in teaching the younger and chaperoning the +elder girls. Only one stipulation did she make +at the beginning of each term—that she should +be allowed to accept, on all reasonable occasions, +the invitations of Anthony Ross and his daughters, +and she made this condition with so much +firmness that Anthony's cousin knew better than +to be unreasonably domineering, as was her usual +habit. Moreover, though it was against her +principles to do anything to further the enjoyment<!-- Page 109 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> +of persons in a subordinate position, she +was, in a way, flattered that Anthony and his +girls should thus single out her "niece by marriage" +and appear to enjoy her society.</p> + +<p>Thus it came about that Meg went a good deal +to St. George's Square and nearly always spent +part of each holiday with Fay and Jan wherever +they happened to be.</p> + +<p>The queer clothes were kept for wear at Ribston +Hall, and by degrees—although she never +had any money—she became possessed of garments +more suitable to her age and colouring.</p> + +<p>Again and again Anthony painted her. She +sat for him with untiring patience and devotion. +She was always entirely at her ease with him, +and prattled away quite simply of the life that +seemed to him so inexpressibly hard and dreary.</p> + +<p>Only once had he interfered on her behalf at +Ribston Hall, and then sorely against Meg's will. +She was sitting for him one day, with her veil of +flaming hair spread round her, when she said, +suddenly, "I wonder why it is incorrect to send +invitations by post to people living in the same +town?"</p> + +<p>"But it isn't," Anthony objected. "Everybody +does it."</p> + +<p>"Not in schools," Meg said firmly. "Mrs. +Ross-Morton will never send invitations to people +living in London through the post—she says it +isn't polite. They must go by hand."</p> + +<p>"I never heard such nonsense," Anthony exclaimed +crossly. "If she doesn't send 'em by +post, how <em>does</em> she send them?"</p> + +<p><!-- Page 110 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> +"I take them generally, in the evening, after +school, and deliver them at all the houses. Some +are fairly near, of course—a lot of her friends +live in Regent's Park—but sometimes I have to +go quite a long way by bus. I don't mind that +in summer, when it's light, but in winter it's horrid +going about the lonely roads ... People +speak to one...."</p> + +<p>Anthony Ross stepped from behind his easel.</p> + +<p>"And what do you do?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I run," Meg said simply, "and I can generally +run much faster than they do ... but it's +a little bit frightening."</p> + +<p>"It's infernal," Anthony said furiously. "I +shall speak to Amelia at once. You are never to +do it again."</p> + +<p>In vain did Meg plead, almost with tears, that +he would do nothing of the kind. He was roused +and firm.</p> + +<p>He did "speak to Amelia." He astonished +that good lady as much as he annoyed her. Nevertheless +Mrs. Ross-Morton used the penny post +for her invitations as long as Meg remained at +Ribston Hall.</p> + +<p>At the end of two years Major Morton, who +had removed from Bedford to Cheltenham, wrote +a long, querulous letter to his sister-in-law to the +effect that if—like the majority of girls nowadays—his +daughter chose to spend her life far from +his sheltering care, it was time she earned something.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ross-Morton replied that only now was +Meg beginning to repay all the expense incurred<!-- Page 111 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> +on her behalf in the way of board, clothing and +tuition; and it was most unreasonable to expect +any salary for quite another year.</p> + +<p>Major Morton decided to remove Meg from +Ribston Hall.</p> + +<p>Many acrimonious letters passed between her +aunt and her father before this was finally accomplished, +and Meg left "under a cloud."</p> + +<p>To her great astonishment, her meek little +uncle appeared at Paddington to see her off. +Just as the train was starting he thrust an envelope +into her hand.</p> + +<p>"It hasn't been fair," he almost shouted—for +the train was already beginning to move. "You +worked hard, you deserved some pay ... a +little present ... but please don't mention it +to your aunt ... She is so decided in her +views...."</p> + +<p>When Meg opened the envelope she found +three ten-pound notes. She had never seen so +much money before, and burst into tears; but it +was not because of the magnitude of the gift. +She felt she had never properly appreciated her +poor little uncle, and her conscience smote her.</p> + +<p>This was at Christmas.</p> + +<p>The weariful rich sat in conclave over Meg, +and it was decided that she should in March +go as companion and secretary to a certain Mrs. +Trent slightly known to one of them.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Trent was kindly, careless, and quite +generous as regards money. She had grown-up +daughters, and they lived in one of the Home +Counties where there are many country-houses<!-- Page 112 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> +and plenty of sport. Meg proved to be exceedingly +useful, did whatever she was asked to do, +and a great many things no one had ever done +before. She shared in the fun, and for the first +time since her mother died was not overworked.</p> + +<p>Her employer was as keen on every form of +pleasure as her own daughters. She exercised +the very smallest supervision over them and +none at all over the "quite useful" little companion.</p> + +<p>Many men came to the easy-going, lavish +house, and Meg, with pretty frocks, abundant +leisure and deliriously prim Ribston-Hallish +manners, came in for her full share of admiration.</p> + +<p>It happened that at the end of July Anthony +Ross came up to London in the afternoon to +attend and speak at a dinner in aid of some +artists' charity. He and Jan were staying with +friends at Teddington; Fay, an aunt and the +servants were already at Wren's End—all but +Hannah, the severe Scottish housemaid, who +remained in charge. She was grim and gaunt +and plain, with a thick, black moustache, and +Anthony liked her less than he could have wished. +But she had been Jan's nurse, and was faithful +and trustworthy beyond words. He would never +let Jan go to the country ahead of him, for without +her he always left behind everything most +vital to his happiness, so she was to join him +next day and see that his painting-tackle was +all packed.</p> + +<p>The house in St. George's Square was nominally<!-- Page 113 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> +shut up and shrouded in dust-sheets, but Hannah +had "opened up" the dining-room on Anthony's +behalf, and there he sat and slumbered till she +should choose to bring him some tea.</p> + +<p>He was awakened by an opening door and +Hannah's voice announcing, not tea, but:</p> + +<p>"Miss Morton to see you, sir."</p> + +<p>There seemed a thousand "r's" in both the +Morton and the sir, and Anthony, who felt that +there was something ominous and arresting in +Hannah's voice, was wide-awake before she +could shut the door again.</p> + +<p>Sure enough it was Meg, clad in a long grey +dust-cloak and motor bonnet, the grey veil flung +back from a very pale face.</p> + +<p>Meg, looking a wispy little shadow of woe.</p> + +<p>Anthony came forward with outstretched +hands.</p> + +<p>"Meg, my child, what good wind has blown +you here this afternoon? I thought you were +having ever such a gay time down in the country."</p> + +<p>But Meg made no effort to grasp the greeting +hands. On the contrary, she moved so that the +whole width of the dining-room table was between +them.</p> + +<p>"Wait," she said, "you mustn't shake hands +with me till I tell you what I've done ... perhaps +you won't want to then."</p> + +<p>And Anthony saw that she was trembling.</p> + +<p>"Come and sit down," he said. "Something's +wrong, I can see. What is it?"</p> + +<p>But she stood where she was, looking at him<!-- Page 114 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> +with large, tragic eyes; laid down a leather +despatch-case she was carrying, and seized the +edge of the table as if for support.</p> + +<p>"I'd rather not sit down yet," she said. "Perhaps +when you've heard what I've got to tell +you, you'll never want me to sit down in your +house again ... and yet ... I did pray so +you'd be here ... I knew it was most unlikely +... but I did pray so ... And you <em>are</em> here."</p> + +<p>Anthony was puzzled. Meg was not given to +making scenes or going into heroics.</p> + +<p>It was evident that something had happened +to shake her out of her usual almost cynical +calm.</p> + +<p>"You'd be much better to sit down," he said, +soothingly. "You see, if you stand, so must I, +and it's such an uncomfortable way of talking."</p> + +<p>She pulled out a chair and sat down at the +table, took off her gloves, and two absurd small +thumbs appeared above its edge, the knuckles +white and tense with the strength of her grip.</p> + +<p>Anthony seated himself in a deep chair beside +the fireplace. He was in shadow. Meg +faced the light, and he was shocked at the appearance +of the little smitten face.</p> + +<p>"Now tell me," he said gently, "just as little +or as much as you like."</p> + +<p>"This morning," she said hoarsely, "I ran +away with a man ... in a motor-car."</p> + +<p>Anthony was certainly startled, but all he said +was, "That being the case, why are you here, +my dear, and what have you done with him?"</p> + +<p><!-- Page 115 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span></p><p>"He was married...."</p> + +<p>"Have you only just found that out?"</p> + +<p>"No, I knew it all along. His wife is hard +and disagreeable and older than he is ... and +he's thirty-five ... and they can't live together, +and she won't divorce him and he can't divorce +her ... and I loved him so much and thought +how beautiful it would be to give up everything +and make it up to him."</p> + +<p>"Yes?" said Anthony, for Meg paused as +though unable to go on.</p> + +<p>"And it seemed very wonderful and noble to +do this, and I forgot my poor little Papa and +those boys in India, and you and Jan and Fay +and ... I was very mad and very happy ... +till this morning, when we actually went off in +his car."</p> + +<p>"But where," Anthony asked in a voice studiously +even and quiet, "<em>are</em> he and his car?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," Meg said hopelessly, "unless +they're still at the place where we had lunch ... +and I don't suppose he'd stay there all this +time...."</p> + +<p>Anthony felt a great desire to laugh, but Meg +looked so woebegone and desperately serious +that he restrained the impulse and said very +kindly: "I don't yet understand how, having +embarked upon such an enterprise, you happen +to be here ... alone. Did you quarrel at lunch, +or what?"</p> + +<p>"We didn't <em>have</em> lunch," Meg exclaimed with +a sob. "At least, I didn't ... it was the lunch +that did it."</p> + +<p>"Did what?"</p> + +<p><!-- Page 116 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> +"Made me realise what I had done, and go +away."</p> + +<p>"Meg dear," said Anthony, striving desperately +to keep his voice steady, "was it a very bad +lunch?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," she answered with the utmost +seriousness. "We hadn't begun; we were just +going to, when I noticed his hands, and his nails +were dirty, and they looked horrid, and suddenly +it came over me that if I stayed ... those +hands...."</p> + +<p>She let go of the table, put her elbows upon it +and hid her face in her hands.</p> + +<p>Anthony made no sound, and presently, still +with hidden face, she went on again:</p> + +<p>"And in that minute I saw what I was doing, +and that I could never be the same again, and I +remembered my poor little dyspeptic Papa, and +my dear, dear brothers so far away in India ... +and you and Jan and Fay—<em>all</em> the special people +I pray for every single night and morning—and +I felt that if I didn't get away that minute I +should die...."</p> + +<p>"And how did you get away?"</p> + +<p>"It was quite simple. There was something +wrong with the car (that's how he got his hands +so dirty), and he'd sent for a mechanic, and just +as we were sitting down to lunch, the waiter said +the motor-man had come ... and he went out +to the garage to speak to him...."</p> + +<p>"Yes?" Anthony remarked, for again Meg +paused.</p> + +<p>"So I just walked out of the front door. No<!-- Page 117 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> +one saw me, and the station was across the road, +and I went right in and asked when there was a +train to London, and there <em>was</em> one going in five +minutes; so I took a ticket and came straight +here, for I knew somehow, even if you were all +away, Hannah would let me stay ... just to-night. +I knew she would ..." and Meg began +to sob feebly.</p> + +<p>And, as if in response to the mention of her +name, Hannah appeared, bearing a tray with +tea upon it. Hannah was short and square; she +stumped as she walked, and she carried a tray +very high and stately, as though it were a sacrifice. +As she came in Meg rose and hastily moved to +the window, standing there with her back to the +room.</p> + +<p>"I thocht," said Hannah, as though challenging +somebody to contradict her, "that Miss +Morton would be the better for an egg to her +tea. She looks just like a bit soap after a hard +day's washing."</p> + +<p>"I had no lunch," said a muffled, apologetic +voice from the window.</p> + +<p>"Come away, then, and take yer tea," Hannah +said sharply. "Young leddies should have more +sense than go fasting so many hours."</p> + +<p>As it was evident that Hannah had no intention +of leaving the room till she saw Meg sitting +at the table, the girl came back and sat +down.</p> + +<p>"See that she gets her tea, sir," she said in a +low, admonitory voice to Anthony. "She's +pretty far through."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 118 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> +The tray was set at the end of the table. Anthony +came and sat down behind it.</p> + +<p>"I'll pour out," he said, "and until you've +drunk one cup of tea, eaten one piece of bread-and-butter +and one egg, you're not to speak one +word. <em>I</em> will talk."</p> + +<p>He tried to, disjointedly and for the most part +nonsense. Meg drank her tea, and to her own +amazement ate up her egg and several pieces of +bread-and-butter with the utmost relish.</p> + +<p>As the meal proceeded, Anthony noted that +she grew less haggard. The tears still hung on +her eyelashes, but the eyes themselves were a +thought less tragic.</p> + +<p>When Hannah came for the tray she gave a +grunt of satisfaction at the sight of the egg-shell +and the empty plates.</p> + +<p>"Now," said Anthony, "we must thresh this +subject out and settle what's to be done. I suppose +you left a message for the Trents. What +did you tell them?"</p> + +<p>"Lies," said Meg. "He said we must have a +good start. His yacht was at Southampton. +And I left a note that I'd been suddenly summoned +to Papa, and would write from there. +They'd all gone for a picnic, you know—and it +was arranged I was to have a headache that +morning ... I've got it now with a vengeance +... It seemed rather fun when we were planning +it. Now it all looks so mean and horrid ... +Besides, lots of people saw us in his motor ... +and people always know me again because of +<!-- Page 119 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span>my hair. Everyone knew him ... the whole +county made a fuss of him, and it seemed so +wonderful ... that he should care like that for +me...."</p> + +<p>"Doubtless it did," said Anthony drily. "But +we must consider what is to be done now. If you +said you were going to your father, perhaps the +best thing you can do is to go to him, and write +to the Trents from there. I hope you didn't inform +<em>him</em> of your intention?"</p> + +<p>"No," she faltered. "I was to write to him +just before we sailed ... But you may be perfectly +sure the Trents will find out ... He will +probably go back there to look for me ... I +expect he is awfully puzzled."</p> + +<p>"I expect he is, and I hope," Anthony added +vindictively, "the fellow is terrified out of his +life as well. He ought to be horsewhipped, and +I'd like to do it. A babe like you!"</p> + +<p>"No," said Meg, firmly; "there you're wrong. +I'm not a babe ... I knew what I was doing; +but up to to-day it seemed worth it ... I never +seemed to see till to-day how it would hurt other +people. Even if he grew tired of me—and I had +faced that—there would have been some awfully +happy months ... and so long as it was only +me, it didn't seem to matter. And when you've +had rather a mouldy life...."</p> + +<p>"It can never be a case of 'only me.' As society +is constituted, other people are always involved."</p> + +<p>"Yet there was Marian Evans ... he told +me about her ... she did it, and everyone came +round to think it was very fine of her really. She +wrote, or something, didn't she?"</p> + +<p><!-- Page 120 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> +"She did," said Anthony, "and in several other +respects her case was not at all analogous to +yours. She was a middle-aged woman—you are +a child...."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps, but I'm not an ignorant child...."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Meg!" Anthony protested.</p> + +<p>"I daresay about books and things I am, but +I mean I haven't been wrapped in cotton-wool, +and taken care of all my life, like Jan and Fay +... I know about things. Oh dear, oh dear, +will you forbid Jan ever to speak to me again?"</p> + +<p>"Jan!" Anthony repeated. "Jan! Why, +she's the person of all others we want. We'll +do nothing till she's here. Let's get her." And +he pushed back his chair and rushed to the bell.</p> + +<p>Meg rushed after him: "You'll let her see me? +You'll let her talk to me? Oh, are you sure?"</p> + +<p>The little hands clutched his arm, her ravaged, +wistful face was raised imploringly to his.</p> + +<p>Anthony stooped and kissed the little face.</p> + +<p>"It's just people like Jan who are put into the +world to straighten things out for the rest of us. +We've wasted three-quarters of an hour already. +Now we'll get her."</p> + +<p>"Is she on the telephone?" asked the practical +Meg. "Not far off?"</p> + +<hr class="space" /> + +<p>Jan was quite used to being summoned to her +father in a tremendous hurry. She was back in +St. George's Square before he started for the +dinner. Meg was lying down in one of the dismantled +bedrooms, and when Jan arrived she +went straight to her father in his dressing-room.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 121 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> +She found him on his knees, pursuing a refractory +collar-stud under the wash-stand.</p> + +<p>"It's well you've come," he said as he got up. +"I can't fasten my collar or my tie. I've had a +devil of a time. My fingers are all thumbs and +I'm most detestably sticky."</p> + +<p>He told Jan about Meg. She fastened his +collar and arranged his tie in the neatest of bows. +Then she kissed him on both cheeks and told +him not to worry.</p> + +<p>"How can one refrain from worrying when +the works of the devil and the selfishness of man +are made manifest as they have been to-day? +But for the infinite mercy of God, where would +that poor silly child have been?"</p> + +<p>"It's just because the infinite mercy of God +is so much stronger than the works of the devil +or the selfishness of man, that you needn't worry," +said Jan.</p> + +<p>Anthony put his hands on Jan's shoulders and +held her away from him.</p> + +<p>"Do you know," he said, "I shall always like +Hannah better after this. In spite of her +moustache and her grimness, that child was +sure Hannah would take her in, whether any +of us were here or not. Now, how did she +know?"</p> + +<p>"Because," said Jan, "things are revealed to +babes like Meg that are hidden from men of +the world like you. Hannah is all right—you +don't appreciate Hannah, and you are rather +jealous of her moustache."</p> + +<p>Anthony leant forward and kissed his tall<!-- Page 122 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> +young daughter: "You are a great comfort, +Jan," he said. "How do you do it?"</p> + +<p>Jan nodded at him. "It will all straighten +out—don't you worry," she said.</p> + +<p>All the same, there was plenty of worry for +everybody. The man, after his fashion, was +very much in love with Meg. He was horribly +alarmed by her sudden and mysterious disappearance. +No one had seen her go, no one had +noticed her.</p> + +<p>He got into a panic, and motored back to the +Trents', arriving there just before dinner. Mrs. +Trent, tired and cross after a wet picnic, had, of +course, read Meg's note, thought it very casual +of the girl and was justly incensed.</p> + +<p>On finding they knew no more of Meg's movements +than he did himself, the man—one Walter +Brooke—lost his head and confessed the truth +to Mrs. Trent, who was much shocked and not +a little frightened.</p> + +<p>Later in the evening she received a telegram +from Jan announcing Meg's whereabouts.</p> + +<p>Jan had insisted on this, lest the Trents should +suspect anything and wire to Major Morton.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Trent, quite naturally, refused to have +anything further to do with Meg. She talked +of serpents, and was very much upset. She wrote +a dignified letter to Major Morton, explaining +her reasons for Meg's dismissal. She also wrote +to their relative among the weariful rich, through +whom she had heard of Meg.</p> + +<p>Meg was more under a cloud than when she +left Ribston Hall.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 123 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> +But for Jan and Anthony she might have gone +under altogether; but they took her down to +Wren's End and kept guard over her. Anthony +Ross dealt faithfully with the man, who went +yachting at once.</p> + +<p>Meg recovered her poise, searched the advertisements +of the scholastic papers industriously, +and secured a post in a school for little +boys, as Anthony forced his cousin Amelia to +give her a testimonial.</p> + +<p>Here she worked hard and was a great success, +for she could keep order, and that quality, where +small boys are concerned, is much more valuable +than learning. She stayed there for some years, +and then her frail little ill-nourished body gave +out, and she was gravely ill.</p> + +<p>When she recovered, she went as English +governess to a rich German family in Bremen. +The arrangement was only for one year, and at +its termination she was free to offer to meet Jan +and her charges.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 124 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER X<br /> +<span class="sub">PLANS</span></h2> + +<p><span class="undrop">"</span><span class="dropcap">N</span>OW, chicks, this is London, the friendly +town," Jan announced, as the taxi drove +away from Charing Cross station.</p> + +<p>"Flendly little London, dirty little London," +her niece rejoined, as she bounced up and down +on Jan's knee. She had slept during the very +good crossing and was full of conversation and +ready to be pleased with all she saw.</p> + +<p>Tony was very quiet. He had suffered far +more in the swift journey across France than +during the whole of the voyage, and it was difficult +to decide whether he or Ayah were the more +extraordinary colour. Greenish-white and miserable +he sat beside his aunt, silent and observing.</p> + +<p>"Here's dear old Piccadilly," Jan exclaimed, +as the taxi turned out of St. James's Street. +"Doesn't it look jolly in the sunshine?"</p> + +<p>Tony turned even greener than before, and +gasped:</p> + +<p>"This! Piccadilly!"</p> + +<p>This not very wide street with shops and great +houses towering above them, the endless streams +of traffic in the road and on the crowded pavements!</p> + +<p>"Did Mrs. Bond live in one of those houses?" +he wondered, "and if so, where did she keep her<!-- Page 125 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> +ducks? And where, oh, where, were the tulips +and the lilies of his dream?"</p> + +<p>He uttered no sound, but his mind kept exclaiming, +"This! Piccadilly?"</p> + +<p>"See," said Jan, oblivious of Tony and intent +on keeping her lively niece upon her knee. +"There's the Green Park."</p> + +<p>Tony breathed more freely.</p> + +<p>After all, there <em>were</em> trees and grass; good grass, +and more of it than in the Resident's garden. +He took heart a little and summoned up courage +to inquire: "But where are the tulips?"</p> + +<p>"It's too early for tulips yet," Jan answered. +"By and by there will be quantities. How did +you know about them? Did dear Mummy tell +you? But they're in Hyde Park, not here."</p> + +<p>Tony made no answer. He was, as usual, +weighing and considering and making up his mind.</p> + +<p>Presently he spoke. "It's different," he said, +slowly, "but I rather like to look at it."</p> + +<p>Tony never said whether he thought things +were pretty or ugly. All he knew was that certain +people and places, pictures and words, sometimes +filled him with an exquisite sense of pleasure, +while others merely bored or exasperated or +were positively painful.</p> + +<p>His highest praise was "I like to look at it." +When he didn't like to look at it, he had found it +wiser to express no opinion at all, except in moments +of confidential expansion, and these were +rare with Tony.</p> + +<p>Meg had found them a nice little furnished flat +on the fifth floor in one of the blocks behind Ken<!-- Page 126 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span>sington +High Street, and Hannah must surely +have been waiting behind the door, so instantaneously +was it opened, when Jan and her party +left the lift.</p> + +<p>There were tears in Hannah's eyes and her +nose was red as she welcomed "Miss Fay's motherless +bairns." She was rather shocked that +there was no sign of mourning about any of them +except Jan, who wore—mainly as a concession to +Hannah's prejudices—a thin black coat and +skirt she had got just before she left Bombay.</p> + +<p>Tony stared stonily at Hannah and decided he +did not like to look at her. She was as surprising +as the newly-found Piccadilly, but she gratified +no sensuous perception whatsoever.</p> + +<p>Ayah might not be exactly beautiful, but she +was harmonious. Her body was well proportioned, +her sari fell in gracious flowing lines, and +she moved with dignity. Without knowing why, +Tony felt that there was something pleasing to +the eye in Ayah. Hannah, on the contrary, was +the reverse of graceful; stumpy and heavy-footed, +she gave an impression of abrupt terminations. +Everything about her seemed too short except +her caps, which were unusually tall and white +and starchy. Her afternoon aprons, too, were +stiffer and whiter and more voluminous than +those of other folk. She did not regard these +things as vain adornings of her person, rather +were they the outward and visible sign of her +office as housekeeper to Miss Ross. They were a +partial expression of the dignity of that office, +just as a minister's gown is the badge of his.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 127 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span></p><p>By the time everyone was washed and brushed +Meg returned with the luggage and Hannah +brought in tea.</p> + +<p>"I thought you'd like to give the bairns their +tea yourself the first day, Miss Jan. Will that +Hindu body have hers in the nursery?"</p> + +<p>"That would be best," Jan said hastily. "And +Hannah, you mustn't be surprised if she sits on +the floor. Indian servants always do."</p> + +<p>"<em>Nothing</em> she can do will surprise me," Hannah +announced loftily. "I've not forgotten the body +that came back with Mrs. Tancred, with a ring +through her nose and a red wafer on her forehead."</p> + +<p>Jan, herself, went with Ayah to the nursery, +where she found that in spite of her disparaging +sniffs, Hannah had put out everything poor Ayah +could possibly want.</p> + +<p>The children were hungry and tea was a lengthy +meal. It was not until they had departed with +Ayah for more washings that Jan found time to +say: "Why don't you take off your hat, Meg +dear? I can't see you properly in that extinguisher. +Is it the latest fashion?"</p> + +<p>"The very latest."</p> + +<p>Meg looked queerly at Jan as she slowly took +off her hat.</p> + +<p>"There!" she said.</p> + +<p>Her hair was cropped as short as a boy's, except +for the soft, tawny rings that framed her +face.</p> + +<p>"Meg!" Jan cried. "Why on earth have you +cut off your hair?"</p> + +<p><!-- Page 128 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> +"Chill penury's the cause. I've turned it into +good hard cash. It happens to be the fashionable +colour just now."</p> + +<p>"Did you really need to? I thought you were +getting quite a good salary with those Hoffmeyers."</p> + +<p>"No English governess gets a <em>good</em> salary in +Bremen, and mine was but a modest remuneration, +so I wanted more. Do you remember Lady +Penelope Pottinger?"</p> + +<p>"Hazily. She was pretty, wasn't she ... +and very smart?"</p> + +<p>"She was and is ... smarter than ever now—mind, +I put you on your honour never to mention +it—<em>she's</em> got my hair."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean she asked you to sell it?"</p> + +<p>"No, my child. I offered it for sale and she +was all over me with eagerness to purchase. +Hair's the defective wire in her lighting apparatus. +Her own, at the best, is skimpy and +straight, though very much my colour, and what +with permanent waving and instantaneous hair +colouring it was positively dwindling away."</p> + +<p>"I wish you had let it dwindle."</p> + +<p>"No, I rather like her—so I suggested she +should give her own poor locks a rest and have +an artistic <i lang="fr">postiche</i> made with mine; it made two, +one to come and one to go—to the hairdresser. +She looks perfectly charming. I'd no idea my +hair was so decent till I saw it on her head."</p> + +<p>"I hope <em>I</em> never shall," Jan said gloomily. "I +think it was silly of you, for it makes you look +younger and more irresponsible than ever; and +what about posts?"</p> + +<p><!-- Page 129 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> +"I've got a post in view where it won't matter +if only I can run things my own way."</p> + +<p>"Will you have to go at once? I thought, +perhaps——"</p> + +<p>"I wish to take this post at once," Meg interposed +quickly, "but it depends on you whether I +get it."</p> + +<p>"On me?"</p> + +<p>"On no one else. Look here, Jan, will you +take me on as nurse to Fay's children? A real +nurse, mind, none of your fine lady arrangements; +only you must pay me forty pounds a year. I +can't manage with less if I'm to give my poor +little Papa any chirps ... I suppose that's a +frightful lot for a nurse?"</p> + +<p>"Not for a good nurse ... But, Meg, you +got eighty when you taught the little boys, and +I know they'd jump at you again in that school, +hair or no hair."</p> + +<p>"Listen, Jan." Meg put her elbows on the +table and leaned her sharp little chin on her two +hands while she held Jan's eyes with hers. "For +nine long years, except that time with the Trents, +I've been teaching, teaching, teaching, and I'm +sick of teaching. I'd rather sweep a crossing."</p> + +<p>"Yet you teach so well; you know the little +boys adored you."</p> + +<p>"I love children and they usually like me. If +you take me to look after Tony and little Fay, I'll +do it thoroughly, I can promise you. I won't +teach them, mind, not a thing—I'll make them +happy and well-mannered; and, Jan, listen, do +you suppose there's anybody, even the most<!-- Page 130 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> +superior of elderly nurses, who would take the +trouble for Fay's children that I should? If you +let me come you won't regret it, I promise you."</p> + +<p>Meg's eyes, those curious eyes with the large +pupil and blue iris flecked with brown, were very +bright, her voice was earnest, and when it ceased +it left a sense of tension in the very air.</p> + +<p>Jan put out her hand across the table, and +Meg, releasing her sharp little chin, clasped it +with hers.</p> + +<p>"So that's settled," Meg announced triumphantly.</p> + +<p>"No." Jan's voice was husky but firm. "It's +not settled. I don't think you're strong enough; +but, even so, if I could pay you the salary you +ought to have, I'd jump at you ... but, my +dear, I can't at present. I haven't the least idea +what it will all cost, but the fares and things +have made such a hole in this year's money I'll +need to be awfully careful."</p> + +<p>"That's exactly why I want to come; you've +no idea of being careful and doing things in a +small way. I've done it all my life. You'll be +far more economical with me than without me."</p> + +<p>"Don't tempt me," Jan besought her. "I see +all that, but why should I be comfortable at your +expense? I want you more than I can say. +Fay wanted it too—she said so."</p> + +<p>"Did Fay actually say so? Did she?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, she did—not that you should be their +nurse, we neither of us ever thought of that; but +she did want you to be there to help me with the +children. We used to talk about it."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 131 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> +"Then I'm coming. I must. Don't you see +how it is, Jan? Don't you realise that nearly all +the happiness in my life—<em>all</em> the happiness since +the boys left—has come to me through Mr. Ross +and Fay and you? And now when there's a +chance for me to do perhaps a little something +in return ... If you don't let me, it's you who +are mean and grudging. I shall be perfectly +strong, if I haven't got to teach—mind, I won't +do that, not so much as A.B.C."</p> + +<p>"I know it's wrong," Jan sighed, "just because +it would be so heavenly to have you."</p> + +<p>Meg loosed the hand she held and stood up. +She lifted her thin arms above her head, as +though invoking some invisible power, stretched +herself, and ran round the table to kiss Jan.</p> + +<p>"And do you never think, you dear, slow-witted +thing, that it will be rather lovely for <em>me</em> +to be with you? To be with somebody who is +kind without being patronising, who treats one +as a human being and not a machine, who sees +the funny side of things and isn't condescending +or improving if she doesn't happen to be cross?"</p> + +<p>"I'm often cross," Jan said.</p> + +<p>"Well, and what if you are? Can't I be cross +back? I'm not afraid of your crossness. You +never hit below the belt. Now, promise me +you'll give me a trial. Promise!"</p> + +<p>Meg's arms were round her neck, Meg's absurd +cropped head was rubbing against hers. Jan was +very lonely and hungry for affection just then, +timid and anxious about the future. Even in +that moment of time it flashed upon her what a<!-- Page 132 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> +tower of strength this small, determined creature +would be, and how infinitely hard it was to turn +Meg from any course she had determined on.</p> + +<p>"For a little while, then," so Jan salved her +conscience. "Just till we all shake down ... +and your hair begins to grow."</p> + +<p>Meg stood up very straight and shook her +finger at Jan. "Remember, I'm to be a real, +proper nurse with authority, and a clinical thermometer +... and a uniform."</p> + +<p>"If you like, and it's a pretty uniform."</p> + +<p>Meg danced gleefully round the table.</p> + +<p>"It will be lovely, it is lovely. I've got it all +ready; green linen frocks, big <em>well</em>-fitting aprons, +and such beautiful caps."</p> + +<p>"Not caps, Meg!" Jan expostulated. "Please +not caps."</p> + +<p>"Certainly caps. How otherwise am I to +cover up my head? I can't wear hats all the +time. And how could I ever inspire those children +with respect with a head like this? When +I get into my uniform you'll see what a very +superior nurse I look."</p> + +<p>"You'll look much more like musical comedy +than sober service."</p> + +<p>"You mistake the situation altogether," Meg +said loftily. "I take my position very seriously."</p> + +<p>"But you can't go about Wren's End in caps. +Everybody knows you down there."</p> + +<p>"They'll find out they don't know me as well +as they thought, that's all."</p> + +<p>"Meg, tell me, what did Hannah say when she +saw your poor shorn head?"</p> + +<p><!-- Page 133 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> +"Hannah, as usual, referred to my Maker, and +said that had He intended me to have short hair +He would either have caused it not to grow or +afflicted me with some disease which necessitated +shearing; and she added that such havers are just +flying in the face of Providence."</p> + +<p>"So they are."</p> + +<p>"All the more reason to cover them up, and I +wish to impress the children."</p> + +<p>"Those children will be sadly browbeaten, I +can see, and as for their poor aunt, she won't be +able to call her soul her own."</p> + +<p>"That," Meg said, triumphantly, "is precisely +why I'm so eager to come. When you've been +an underling all your life you can't imagine what +a joy it is to be top dog occasionally."</p> + +<p>"In that respect," Jan said firmly, "it must +be turn and turn about. I won't let you come +unless you promise—swear, here and now—that +when I consider you are looking fagged—'a +wispy wraith,' as Daddie used to say—if I command +you to take a day in bed, in bed you will +stay till I give you leave to get up. Unless you +promise me this, the contract is off."</p> + +<p>"I'll promise anything you like. The idea of +being <em>pressed</em> to remain in bed strikes me as +merely comic. You have evidently no notion +how persons in a subordinate position ought to +be treated. Bed, indeed!"</p> + +<p>"I think you might have waited till I got back +before you parted with your hair." Jan's tone +was decidedly huffy.</p> + +<p>"Now don't nag. That subject is closed.<!-- Page 134 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> +What about <em>your</em> hair. Do you know it is almost +white?"</p> + +<p>"And what more suitable for a maiden aunt? +As that is to be my <i lang="fr">rôle</i> for the future I may as +well look the part."</p> + +<p>"But you don't—that's what I complain of. +The whiter your hair grows the younger your +face gets. You're a contradiction, a paradox, +you provoke conjecture, you're indecently noticeable. +Mr. Ross would have loved to paint +you."</p> + +<p>Jan shook her head. "No, Daddie never +wanted to paint anything about me except my +arms."</p> + +<p>"He'd want to paint you now," Meg insisted +obstinately. "<em>I</em> know the sort of person he liked +to paint."</p> + +<p>"He never would paint people unless he <em>did</em> +like them," Jan said, smiling as at some recollection. +"Do you remember how he utterly refused +to paint that rich Mr. Withells down at Amber +Guiting?"</p> + +<p>"I remember," and Meg laughed. "He said +Mr. Withells was puffy and stippled."</p> + +<hr class="space" /> + +<p>Tony had been cold ever since he reached the +Gulf of Lyons, and he wondered what could be +the matter with him, for he never remembered +to have felt like this before. He wondered miserably +what could be the reason why he felt so +torpid and shivery, disinclined to move, and yet +so uncomfortable when he sat still.</p> + +<p>After his bath, on that first night in London,<!-- Page 135 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> +tucked into a little bed with a nice warm eiderdown +over him, he still felt that horrid little +trickle of ice-cold water down his spine and could +not sleep.</p> + +<p>His cot was in Auntie Jan's room with a tall +screen round it. The rooms in the flat were +small, tiny they seemed to Tony, after the lofty +spaciousness of the bungalow in Bombay, but +that didn't seem to make it any warmer, because +Auntie Jan's window was wide open as it would +go—top and bottom—and chilly gusts seemed to +blow round his head in spite of the screen. Ayah +and little Fay were in the nursery across the passage, +where there was a fire. There was no fire +in this wind-swept chamber of Auntie Jan's.</p> + +<p>Tony dozed and woke and woke and dozed, +getting colder and more forlorn and miserable +with each change of position. The sheets seemed +made of ice, so slippery were they, so unkind and +unyielding and unembracing.</p> + +<p>Presently he saw a dim light. Auntie Jan had +come to bed, carrying a candle. He heard her +say good night to the little mem who had met +them at the station, and the door was shut.</p> + +<p>In spite of her passion for fresh air, Jan shivered +herself as she undressed. She made a somewhat +hasty toilet, said her prayers, peeped round +the screen to see that Tony was all right, and +hopped into bed, where a hot-water bottle put in +by the thoughtful Hannah was most comforting.</p> + +<p>Presently she heard a faint, attenuated sniff. +Again it came, this time accompanied by the +ghost of something like a groan.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 136 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> +Jan sat up in bed and listened. Immediately +all was perfectly still.</p> + +<p>She lay down again, and again came that sad +little sniff, and undoubtedly it was from behind +the screen that it came.</p> + +<p>Had Tony got cold?</p> + +<p>Jan leapt out of bed, switched on the light and +tore away the screen from around his bed.</p> + +<p>Yes; his doleful little face was tear-stained.</p> + +<p>"Tony, Tony darling, what is the matter?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," he sobbed. "I feel so funny."</p> + +<p>Jan put her hand on his forehead—far from +being hot, the little face was stone-cold. In a +moment she had him out of bed and in her warm +arms. As she took him she felt the chill of the +stiff, unyielding small body.</p> + +<p>"My precious boy, you're cold as charity! +Why didn't you call me long ago? Why didn't +you tell Auntie Jan?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't ... know ... what it was," he +sobbed.</p> + +<p>In no time Tony was put into the big bed, the +bed so warm from Auntie Jan's body, with a +lovely podgy magic something at his feet that +radiated heat. Auntie Jan slammed down the +window at the bottom, and then more fairness! +She struck a match, there was a curious sort of +"plop," and a little fire started in the grate, an +amazing little fire that grew redder and redder +every minute. Auntie Jan put on a blue dressing-gown +over the long white garment that she wore, +and bustled about. Tony decided that he "liked +to look at her" in this blue robe, with her hair<!-- Page 137 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> +in a great rope hanging down. She was very +quick; she fetched a little saucepan and he heard +talking in the passage outside, but no one else +came in, only Auntie Jan.</p> + +<p>Presently she gave him milk, warm and sweet, +in a blue cup. He drank it and began to feel +much happier, drowsy too, and contented. Presently +there was no light save the red glow of the +fairy fire, and Auntie Jan got into bed beside +him.</p> + +<p>She put her arm about him and drew him so +that his head rested against her warm shoulder. +He did not repulse her, he did not speak, but +lay stiff and straight with his feet glued against +that genial podgy something that was so infinitely +comforting.</p> + +<p>"You are kind," Tony said suddenly. "I +believe you."</p> + +<p>The stiff little body relaxed and lay against +hers in confiding abandonment, and soon he +was sound asleep.</p> + +<p>What a curious thing to say! Jan lay awake +puzzling. Tragedy lay behind it. Only five +years old, and yet, to Tony, belief was a more +important thing than love. She thought of +Fay, hectic and haggard, and again she seemed +to hear her say in her tired voice, trying to explain +Tony: "He's not a cuddly child; he's queer +and reserved and silent, but if he once trusts you +it's for always; he'll love you then and never +change."</p> + +<p>Jan could just see, in the red glow from the +fire, the little head that lay so confidingly against<!-- Page 138 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> +her shoulder, the wide forehead, the peacefully +closed eyes. And suddenly she realised that the +elusive resemblance to somebody that had always +evaded her was a likeness to that face she +saw in the glass every time she did her hair. She +kissed him very softly, praying the while that +she might never fail him; that he might always +have reason to trust her.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 139 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER XI<br /> +<span class="sub">THE STATE OF PETER</span></h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">M</span>EANWHILE Peter was making discoveries +about himself. He went back to his flat +on the evening of the day Jan and the children +sailed. Swept and garnished and exceedingly +tidy, it appeared to have grown larger during +his absence and seemed rather empty. There +was a sense of unfilled spaces that caused him +to feel lonely.</p> + +<p>That very evening he decided he must get a +friend to chum with him. The bungalow was +much too big for one person.</p> + +<p>This had never struck him before.</p> + +<p>In spite of their excessive neatness there remained +traces of Jan and the children in the +rooms. The flowers on the dinner-table proclaimed +that they had been arranged by another +hand than Lalkhan's. He was certain of that +without Lalkhan's assurance that the Miss-Sahib +had done them herself before she sailed +that very morning.</p> + +<p>When he went to his desk after dinner—never +before or after did Peter possess such an orderly +bureau—he found a letter lying on the blotting-pad, +and on each side of the heavy brass inkstand +were placed a leaden member of a camel-corps +and an India-rubber ball with a face painted<!-- Page 140 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> +upon it, which, when squeezed, expressed every +variety of emotion. These, Lalkhan explained, +were parting gifts from the young sahib and +little Fay respectively, and had been so arranged +by them just before they sailed.</p> + +<p>The day before Jan had told the children that +all this time they had been living in Peter's house +and that she was sure Mummy would want them +to be very grateful (she was careful to talk a +great deal about Mummy to the children lest +they should forget her); that he had been very +kind to them all, and she asked if there was anything +of their very own they would like to leave +for Peter as a remembrance.</p> + +<p>Tony instantly fetched the camel-corps soldier +that kept guard on a chair by his cot every night; +that Ayah had not been permitted to pack because +it must accompany him on the voyage. It +was, Jan knew, his most precious possession, and +she assured him that Peter would be particularly +gratified by such a gift.</p> + +<p>Not to be outdone by her brother, little Fay +demanded her beloved ball, which was already +packed for the voyage in Jan's suit-case.</p> + +<p>Peter sat at his desk staring at the absurd +little toys with very kind eyes. He understood. +Then he opened Jan's letter and read it through +quite a number of times.</p> + +<p>"Dear Mr. Ledgard," it ran.</p> + +<p>"Whatever Mr. Kipling may say of the Celt, +the lowland Scot finds it very difficult to express +strong feeling in words. If I had tried to tell +you, face to face, how sensible I am of your kind<!-- Page 141 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span>ness +and consideration for us during the last sad +weeks—I should have cried. You would have +been desperately uncomfortable and I—miserably +ashamed of myself. So I can only try to write +something of my gratitude.</p> + +<p>"We have been your guests so long and your +hospitality has been so untiring in circumstances +sad and strange enough to try the patience of the +kindest host, that I simply cannot express my +sense of obligation; an obligation in no wise burdensome +because you have always contrived to +make me feel that you took pleasure in doing all +you have done.</p> + +<p>"I wish there had been something belonging to +my sister that I could have begged you to accept +as a remembrance of her; but everything she had +of the smallest value has disappeared—even her +books. When I get home I hope to give you one +of my father's many portraits of her, but I will +not send it till I know whether you are coming +home this summer. Please remember, should +you do so, as I sincerely hope you will, that nowhere +can there be a warmer welcome for you +than at Wren's End. It would be the greatest +possible pleasure for the children and me to see +you there, and it is a good place to slack in and +get strong. And there I hope to challenge you to +the round of golf we never managed during my +time in India.</p> + +<p>"Please try to realise, dear Mr. Ledgard, that +my sense of your kindness is deep and abiding, +and, believe me, yours, in most true gratitude,</p> + +<p class="ralign smcap">"Janet Ross."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 142 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> +For a long time Peter sat very still, staring at +the cheerful, highly-coloured face painted on Fay's +ball. Cigarette after cigarette did he smoke as he +reviewed the experience of the last six weeks.</p> + +<p>For the first time since he became a man he +had been constantly in the society of a woman +younger than himself who appeared too busy and +too absorbed in other things to remember that +she was a woman and he a man.</p> + +<p>Peter was ordinarily susceptible, and he was +rather a favourite with women because of his +good manners; and his real good-nature made +him ready to help either in any social project that +happened to be towards or in times of domestic +stress. Yet never until lately had he seen so +much of any woman not frankly middle-aged +without being conscious that he <em>was</em> a man and +she a woman, and this added, at all events, a +certain piquancy to the situation.</p> + +<p>Yet he had never felt this with Jan.</p> + +<p>Quite a number of times in the course of his +thirty years he had fallen in love in an agreeably +surface sort of way without ever being deeply +stirred. Love-making was the pleasantest game +in the world, but he had not yet felt the smallest +desire to marry. He was a shrewd young man, +and knew that marriage, even in the twentieth +century, at all events starts with the idea of permanence; +and, like many others who show no +inclination to judge the matrimonial complications +of their acquaintance, he would greatly +have disliked any sort of scandal that involved +himself or his belongings.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 143 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> +He was quite as sensitive to criticism as other +men in his service, and he knew that he challenged +it in lending his flat to Mrs. Tancred. But here +he felt that the necessities of the case far outweighed +the possibilities of misconception, and +after Jan came he thought no more about it.</p> + +<p>Yet in a young man with his somewhat cynical +knowledge of the world, it was surprising that +the thought of his name being coupled with Jan's +never crossed his mind. He forgot that none of +his friends knew Jan at all, but that almost every +evening they did see her with him in the car—sometimes, +it is true, accompanied by the children, +but quite as often alone—and that during +her visit his spare time was so much occupied in +looking after the Tancred household that his +friends saw comparatively little of him, and +Peter was, as a rule, a very sociable person.</p> + +<p>Therefore it came upon him as a real shock +when people began to ask him point-blank +whether he was engaged to Jan, and if so, what +they were going to do about Tancred's children. +Rightly or wrongly, he discerned in the question +some veiled reflection upon Jan, some implied +slur upon her conduct. He was consequently +very short and huffy with these inquisitive ones, +and when he was no longer present they would +shake their heads and declare that "poor old +Peter had got it in the neck."</p> + +<p>If so, poor old Peter was, as yet, quite unconscious +of anything of the kind.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless he found himself constantly thinking +about her. Everything, even the familiar<!-- Page 144 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> +streets and roads, served to remind him of her, +and when he went to bed he nearly always +dreamed about her. Absurd, inconsequent, unsatisfactory +dreams they were; for in them she +was always too busy to pay any attention to him +at all; she was wholly absorbed by what it is to +be feared Peter sometimes called "those confounded +children." Though even in his dream +world he was careful to keep his opinion to himself.</p> + +<p>Why on earth should he always dream of Jan +during the first part of the night?</p> + +<p>Lalkhan could have thrown some light upon +the subject. But naturally Peter did not confide +his obsession to Lalkhan.</p> + +<p>Just before she left Jan asked Lalkhan where +the sahib's linen was kept, and on being shown +the cupboard which contained the rather untidy +little piles of sheets, pillow-cases, and towels that +formed Peter's modest store of house linen, she rearranged +it and brought sundry flat, square muslin +bags filled with dried lavender. Lace-edged bags +with lavender-coloured ribbon run through insertion +and tied in bows at the two corners. These +bags she placed among the sheets, much to the +wonder of Lalkhan, who, however, decided that it +was kindly meant and therefore did not interfere.</p> + +<p>The odour was not one that commended itself +to him. It was far too faint and elusive. He +could understand a liking for attar of roses, of +jessamine, of musk, or of any of the strong scents +beloved by the native of India. Yet had she +proposed to sprinkle the sheets with any of these<!-- Page 145 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> +essences he would have felt obliged to interfere, as +the sahib swore violently and became exceedingly +hot and angry did any member of his household +venture into his presence thus perfumed. Even +as it was he fully expected that his master would +irritably demand the cause of the infernal smell +that pervaded his bed; so keen are the noses of +the sahibs. Whereupon Lalkhan, strong in rectitude, +would relate exactly what had happened, +produce one of the Jan-incriminating muslin bags, +escape further censure, and doubtless be commanded +to burn it and its fellows in the kitchen +stove. But nothing of the kind occurred, and, +as it is always easier to leave a thing where it has +been placed than to remove it, the lavender remained +among the sheets in humble obscurity.</p> + +<p>The old garden at Wren's End abounded in +great lavender bushes, and every year since it +became her property Jan made lavender sachets +which she kept in every possible place. Her own +clothes always held a faint savour of lavender, +and she had packed these bags as much as a +matter of course as she packed her stockings. +It seemed a shame, though, to take them home +again when she could get plenty more next summer, +so she left them in the bungalow linen cupboard. +They reproduced her atmosphere; therefore +did Peter dream of Jan.</p> + +<p>A fortnight passed, and on their way to catch +the homeward mail came Thomas Crosbie and +his wife from Dariawarpur to stay the night. +Next morning at breakfast Mrs. Crosbie, young, +pretty and enthusiastic, expatiated on the com<!-- Page 146 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span>fort +of her room, finally exclaiming: "And how, +Mr. Ledgard, do you manage to have your sheets +so deliciously scented with lavender—d'you get +it sent out from home every year?"</p> + +<p>"Lavender?" Peter repeated. "I've got no +lavender. My people never sent me any, and +I've certainly never come across any in India."</p> + +<p>"But I'm convinced everything smelt of lavender. +It made me think of home so. If I hadn't +been just going I'd have been too homesick for +words. I'm certain of it. Think! You must +have got some from somewhere and forgotten +it."</p> + +<p>Peter shook his head. "I've never noticed it +myself—you really must be mistaken. What +would I be doing with lavender?"</p> + +<p>"It was there all the same," Mrs. Crosbie continued. +"I'm certain of it. You must have got +some from somewhere. Do find out—I'm sure +I'm not wrong. Ask your boy."</p> + +<p>Peter said something to Lalkhan, who explained +volubly. Tom Crosbie grinned; he understood +even fluent Hindustani. His wife did not. Peter +looked a little uncomfortable. Lalkhan salaamed +and left the room.</p> + +<p>"Well?" Mrs. Crosbie asked.</p> + +<p>"It seems," Peter said slowly, "there <em>is</em> something +among the sheets. I've sent Lalkhan to +get it."</p> + +<p>Lalkhan returned, bearing a salver, and laid on +the salver was one of Jan's lavender bags. He +presented it solemnly to his master, who with +almost equal solemnity handed it to Mrs. Crosbie.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 147 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> +"There!" she said. "Of course I knew I +couldn't be mistaken. Now where did you get +it?"</p> + +<p>"It was, I suppose, put among the things +when poor Mrs. Tancred had the flat. I never +noticed, of course—it's such an unobtrusive sort +of smell...."</p> + +<p>"Hadn't she a sister?" Mrs. Crosbie asked, +curiously, holding the little sachet against her +soft cheek and looking very hard at Peter.</p> + +<p>"She had. It was she who took the children +home, you know."</p> + +<p>"Older or younger than Mrs. Tancred?"</p> + +<p>"Older."</p> + +<p>"How much older?"</p> + +<p>"I really don't know," said the mendacious +Peter.</p> + +<p>"Was she awfully pretty, too?"</p> + +<p>"Again, I really don't know. I never thought +about her looks ... she had grey hair...."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" Mrs. Crosbie exclaimed—a deeply disappointed +"Oh." "Probably much older, then. +That explains the lavender bags."</p> + +<p>Silent Thomas Crosbie looked from his wife to +Peter with considerable amusement. He realised, +if she didn't, that Peter was most successfully +putting her off the scent of more than lavender; +but men are generally loyal to each other in these +matters, and he suddenly took his part in the +conversation and changed the subject.</p> + +<p>Among Peter's orders to his butler that morning +was one to the effect that nothing the Miss-Sahib +had arranged in the bungalow was to be<!-- Page 148 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> +disturbed, and the lavender bag was returned to +rejoin its fellows in the cupboard.</p> + +<p>It was four years since Peter had had any +leave, and it appeared that the lavender had the +same effect upon him as upon Mrs. Crosbie. He +felt homesick—and applied for leave in May.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 149 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER XII<br /> +<span class="sub">"THE BEST-LAID SCHEMES"</span></h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">P</span>ETER had been as good as his word, and +had found a family returning to India who +were glad to take Ayah back to Bombay. And +she, though sorry to leave Jan and the children, +acquiesced in all arrangements made for her with +the philosophic patience of the East. March +was a cold month, and she was often rather miserable, +in spite of her pride in her shoes and +stockings and the warm clothes Jan had provided +for her.</p> + +<p>Before she left Jan interviewed her new mistress +and found her kind and sensible, and an +old campaigner who had made the voyage innumerable +times.</p> + +<p>It certainly occurred to Jan that Peter had +been extraordinarily quick in making this arrangement, +but she concluded that he had written +on the subject before they left India. She +had no idea that he had sent a long and costly +cable on the subject. His friend thought him +very solicitous for her comfort, but set it down +entirely to her own merits and Peter's discriminating +good sense.</p> + +<p>When the day came Jan took Ayah to her new +quarters in a taxi. Of course Ayah wept, and<!-- Page 150 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> +Jan felt like weeping herself, as she would like +to have kept her on for the summer months. +But she knew it wouldn't do; that apart from +the question of expense, Hannah could never +overcome her prejudices against "that heathen +buddy," and that to have explained that poor +Ayah was a Roman Catholic would only have +made matters worse. Hannah was too valuable +in every way to upset her with impunity, and the +chance of sending Ayah back to India in such +kind custody was too good to lose.</p> + +<p>Meg had deferred the adoption of the musical-comedy +costume until such time as she took over +Ayah's duties. She in no way interfered, but was +helpful in so many unobtrusive ways that Jan, +while she still felt guilty in allowing her to stay +at all, acknowledged she could never have got +through this time without her.</p> + +<p>Fortunately the day of Ayah's departure was +fine, so that while Jan took her to her destination +Meg took the children to spend the afternoon at +the Zoo. To escort little Fay about London was +always rather an ordeal to anyone of a retiring +disposition. She was so fearless, so interested in +her fellow-creatures, and so ready at all times and +in all places to enter into conversation with absolute +strangers, preferably men, that embarrassing +situations were almost inevitable; and her speech, +high and clear and carrying—in spite of the missing +"r"—rendered it rarely possible to hope +people did not understand what she said.</p> + +<p>They went by the Metropolitan to Baker +Street and sat on one of the small seats at right<!-- Page 151 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span> +angles to the windows, and a gentleman wearing +a very shiny top-hat sat down opposite to them.</p> + +<p>He looked at little Fay; little Fay looked at +him and, smiling her adorable, confident smile, +leant forward, remarking: "Sahib, you wear a +very high hat."</p> + +<p>Instantly the eyes of all the neighbouring passengers +were fixed upon the hat and its owner. +His, however, were only for the very small lady +that faced him; the small lady in a close white +bonnet and bewitching curls that bobbed and +fluttered in the swaying of the train.</p> + +<p>He took off the immaculate topper and held it +out towards her. "There," he said, "would you +like to look at it?"</p> + +<p>Fay carefully rubbed it the wrong way with a +tentative woolly-gloved finger. "Plitty, high +hat," she cooed. "Can plitty little Fay have it +to keep?"</p> + +<p>But the gentleman's admiration did not carry +him as far as this. Somewhat hastily he withdrew +his hat, smoothed it (it had just been ironed) +and placed it on his head again. Then he became +aware of the smiling faces and concentrated +gaze of his neighbours; also, that the attractive +round face that had given him so much pleasure +had exchanged its captivating smile for a pathetic +melancholy that even promised tears. He turned +extremely red and escaped at the next station. +Whereupon ungrateful little Fay, who had never +had the slightest intention of crying, remarked +loftily: "Tahsome man dawn."</p> + +<p>When at last they reached the Zoo Meg took<!-- Page 152 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> +it upon herself to remonstrate with her younger +charge.</p> + +<p>"You mustn't ask strangers for things, dear; +you really mustn't—not in the street or in the +train."</p> + +<p>"What for?" asked Fay. She nearly always +said, "What for" when she meant "Why"; and +it was as hard-worked a phrase as "What nelse?"</p> + +<p>"Because people don't do it, you know."</p> + +<p>"They do—I've heard 'em."</p> + +<p>"Well, beggars perhaps, but not nice little +girls."</p> + +<p>"Do nasty little girls?"</p> + +<p>"<em>Only</em> nasty little girls would do it, I think."</p> + +<p>Fay pondered this for a minute, then in a +regretfully reflective voice she said sadly: "Vat +was a nasty, gleedy sahib in a tlain."</p> + +<p>"Not at all," Meg argued, struggling with her +mirth. "How would you have liked it if he'd +asked you to give him your bonnet 'to keep'?"</p> + +<p>Little Fay hastily put up her hands to her +head to be sure her bonnet was in its place, then +she inquired with great interest: "What's 'is +place, deah Med?"</p> + +<p>"Deah Med" soon found herself followed round +by a small crowd of other sight-seers who waited +for and greeted little Fay's unceasing comments +with joyful appreciation. Such popular publicity +was not at all to Meg's taste, and although the +afternoon was extremely cold her cheeks never +ceased to burn till she got the children safely +back to the flat again. Tony was gloomy and +taciturn. Nobody took the slightest notice of<!-- Page 153 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> +him. Weather that seemed to brace his sister to +the most energetic gaiety only made him feel +torpid and miserable. He was not naughty, +merely apathetic, uninterested, and consequently +uninteresting. Meg thought he might be homesick +and sad about Ayah, and was very kind and +gentle, but her advances met with no response.</p> + +<p>By this time Tony was sure of his aunt, but he +had by no means made up his mind about Meg.</p> + +<p>When they got back to Kensington Meg joyously +handed over the children to Jan while she +retired to her room to array herself in her uniform. +She was to "take over" from that moment, +and approached her new sphere with high +seriousness and an intense desire to be, as she +put it, "a wild success."</p> + +<p>For weeks she had been reading the publications +of the P. N. E. U. and the "Child-Study +Society," to say nothing of Manuals upon "Infant +Hygiene," "The Montessori Method" and +"The Formation of Character." Sympathy and +Insight, Duty and Discipline, Self-Control and +Obedience, Regularity and Concentration of Effort—all +with the largest capitals—were to be +her watchwords. And she buttoned on her well-fitting +white linen apron (newest and most approved +hospital pattern, which she had been +obliged to make herself, for she could buy nothing +small enough) in a spirit of dedication as sincere +as that imbuing any candidate for Holy Orders. +Then, almost breathlessly, she put her +cap upon her flaming head and surveyed the general +effect in the long glass.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 154 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> +Yes, it was all very satisfactory. Well-hung, +short, green linen frock—was it a trifle short? +Yet the little feet in the low-heeled shoes were +neat as the ankles above them were slim, and one +needed a short skirt for "working about."</p> + +<p>Perhaps there <em>was</em> a touch of musical comedy +about her appearance, but that was merely because +she was so small and the cap, a muslin cap +of a Quakerish shape, distinctly becoming. Well, +there was no reason why she should want to look +hideous. She would not be less capable because +she was pleasing to the eye.</p> + +<p>She seized her flannel apron from the bed +where she had placed it ready before she went +out, and with one last lingering look at herself +went swiftly to her new duties.</p> + +<p>Tea passed peacefully enough, though Fay +asked embarrassing questions, such as "Why you +wear suts a funny hat?"</p> + +<p>"Because I'm an ayah," Meg answered quickly.</p> + +<p>"Ayahs don't wear zose kind of hats."</p> + +<p>"English ayahs do, and I'm going to be your +ayah, you know."</p> + +<p>Fay considered Meg for a minute. "No," she +said, shaking her head. "<em>No.</em>"</p> + +<p>"Have another sponge-finger," Jan suggested +diplomatically, handing the dish to her niece, +and the danger was averted.</p> + +<p>They played games with the children after tea +and all went well till bed-time. Meg had begged +Jan to leave them entirely to her, and with considerable +misgiving she had seen Meg marshal +the children to the bathroom and shut the door.<!-- Page 155 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> +Tony was asked as a favour to go too this first +evening without Ayah, lest little Fay should feel +lonely. It was queer, Jan reflected when left +alone in the drawing-room, how she seemed to +turn to the taciturn Tony for help where her obstreperous +niece was concerned. Over and over +again Tony had intervened and successfully prevented +a storm.</p> + +<p>Meg turned on the bath and began to undress +little Fay. She bore this with comparative +meekness, but when all her garments had been +removed she slipped from Meg's knees and, standing +squarely on the floor, announced:</p> + +<p>"I want my own Ayah. Engliss Ayah not +wass me. Own Ayah muss come bat."</p> + +<p>"She can't, my darling; she's gone to other +little girls, you know—we told you many days +ago."</p> + +<p>"She muss come bat—'<i>jaldi</i>,'" shouted Fay—"jaldi" +being Hindustani for "quickly."</p> + +<p>Meg sighed. "I'm afraid she can't do that. +Come, my precious, and let me bathe you; you'll +get cold standing there."</p> + +<p>With a quick movement Meg seized the plump, +round body. She was muscular though so small, +and in spite of little Fay's opposition she lifted +her into the bath. She felt Tony pull at her +skirts and say something, but was too busy to +pay attention.</p> + +<p>Little Fay was in the bath sure enough, but to +wash her was quite another matter. You may +lead a sturdy infant of three to the water in a +fixed bath, but no power on earth can wash that<!-- Page 156 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> +infant if it doesn't choose. Fay screamed and +struggled and wriggled and kicked, finally slipping +right under the water, which frightened her +dreadfully; she lost her breath for one second, +only to give forth ear-splitting yells the next. +She was slippery as a trout and strong as a leaping +salmon.</p> + +<p>Jan could bear it no longer and came in. Meg +had succeeded in lifting the terrified baby out of +the bath, and she stood on the square of cork defying +the "Engliss Ayah," wet from her topmost +curl to her pink toes, but wholly unwashed.</p> + +<p>Tony ran to Jan and under all the din contrived +to say: "It's the big bath; she's frightened. +Ayah never put her in the big bath."</p> + +<p>Meg had forgotten this. The little tin bath +they had brought from India for the voyage +stood in a corner.</p> + +<p>It was filled, while Fay, wrapped in a Turkish +towel, sobbed more quietly, ejaculating between +the gurgles: "Nasty hat, nasty Engliss Ayah. I +want my own deah Ayah!"</p> + +<p>When the bath was ready poor Meg again approached +little Fay, but Fay would have none +of her.</p> + +<p>"No," she wailed, "Engliss Ayah in nasty hat +<em>not</em> wass me. Tony wass me, <em>deah</em> Tony."</p> + +<p>She held out her arms to her brother, who +promptly received her in his.</p> + +<p>"You'd better let me," he said to the anxious +young women. "We'll never get her finished else."</p> + +<p>So it ended in Tony's being arrayed in the +flannel apron which, tied under his arm-pits, was<!-- Page 157 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> +not so greatly too long. With his sleeves turned +up he washed his small sister with thoroughness +and despatch, pointing out somewhat proudly that +he "went into all the corners."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 375px;"> +<a name="washed" id="washed"></a> +<a href="images/washed-lg.jpg" class="noline"> +<img src="images/washed-thumb.jpg" width="231" height="400" alt="" title="" /> +<span class="caption u"><br />He washed his small sister with thoroughness and despatch, +pointing out ... that he "went into all the corners."</span></a> +</div> + +<p>The washing-glove was very large on Tony's +little hand, and he used a tremendous lot of soap—but +Fay became all smiles and amiability during +the process. Meg and Jan had tears in their +eyes as they watched the quaint spectacle. There +was something poignantly pathetic in the clinging +together of these two small wayfarers in a +strange country, so far from all they had known +and shared in their short experience.</p> + +<p>Meg's "nasty hat" was rakishly askew upon +her red curls, for Fay had frequently grabbed at +it in her rage, and the beautiful green linen gown +was sopping wet.</p> + +<p>"Engliss Ayah clying!" Fay remarked surprisedly. +"What for?"</p> + +<p>"Because you wouldn't let me bathe you," said +Meg dismally. Her voice broke. She really was +most upset. As it happened, she did the only +thing that would have appealed to little Fay.</p> + +<p>"Don't cly, deah Med," she said sweetly. +"You sall dly me."</p> + +<p>And Meg, student of so many manuals, humbly +and gratefully accepted the task.</p> + +<p>It had taken exactly an hour and a quarter to +get Fay ready for bed. Indian Ayah used to do +it in fifteen minutes.</p> + +<p>Consistently and cheerfully gracious, Fay permitted +Meg to carry her to her cot and tuck her +in.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 158 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> +Meg lit the night-light and switched off the +light, when a melancholy voice began to chant:</p> + +<p>"<em>My</em> Ayah always dave me a choccly."</p> + +<p>Now there was no infant in London less deserving +of a choccly at that moment than troublesome +little Fay. "Nursery Hygiene" proclaimed +the undeniable fact that sweetmeats last thing +at night are most injurious. Duty and Discipline +and Self-Control should all have pointed out the +evil of any indulgence of the sort. Yet Meg, +with all her theories quite fresh and new, and +with this excellent opportunity of putting them +into practice, extracted a choccly from a box on +the chest of drawers; and when the voice, "like +broken music," announced for the third time, +"<em>My</em> Ayah always dave me a choccly," "So will +this Ayah," said Meg, and popped it into the +mouth whence the voice issued.</p> + +<p>There was a satisfied smacking and munching +for a space, when the voice took up the tale:</p> + +<p>"Once Tony had thlee——"</p> + +<p>But what it was Tony once had "thlee" of Meg +was not to know that night, for naughty little +Fay fell fast asleep.</p> + +<hr class="space" /> + +<p>For a week Tony bathed his sister every night. +Neither Jan nor Meg felt equal to facing and +going through again the terrors of that first night +without Ayah. Little Fay was quite good—she +permitted Meg to undress her and even to put +her in the little bath, but once there she always +said firmly, "Tony wass me," and Tony did.</p> + +<p>Then he burned his hand.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 159 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> +He was never openly and obstreperously disobedient +like little Fay. On the whole he preferred +a quiet life free from contention. But very +early in their acquaintance Jan had discovered +that what Tony determined upon that he did, +and in this he resembled her so strongly that she +felt a secret sympathy with him, even when such +tenacity of purpose was most inconvenient.</p> + +<p>He liked to find things out for himself, and no +amount of warning or prohibition could prevent +his investigations. Thus it came about that, +carefully guarded as the children were from any +contact with the fires, Tony simply didn't believe +what was told him of their dangers.</p> + +<p>Fires were new to him. They were so pretty, +with their dancing flames, it seemed a pity to +shut them in behind those latticed guards Auntie +Jan was so fond of. Never did Tony see the +fires without those tiresome guards and he wanted +to very much.</p> + +<p>One afternoon just before tea, while Meg was +changing little Fay's frock, he slipped across to +the drawing-room where Auntie Jan was busy +writing a letter. Joy! the guard was off the fire; +he could sit on the rug and watch it undisturbed. +He made no noise, but knelt down softly in front +of it and stretched out his hands to the pleasant +warmth. It was the sort of fire Tony liked to +watch, red at the heart, with little curling flames +that were mirrored in the tiled hearth.</p> + +<p>Jan looked up from her writing and saw him +there, saw also that there was no guard, but, as +little Fay had not yet come, thought Tony far<!-- Page 160 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> +too sensible to interfere with the fire in any way. +She went on with her writing; then when she +looked again something in the intentness of his +attitude caused her to say: "Be sure you don't +get too near the fire, Tony; it hurts badly to be +burned."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Auntie Jan," Tony said meekly.</p> + +<p>She wrote a few lines more, looked up, and +held her breath. It would have been an easy +matter even then to dash across and put on the +guard; but in a flash Jan realised that to let Tony +burn himself a little at that moment might save +a very bad accident later on. There was nothing +in his clothes to catch alight. His woollen jersey +fitted closely.</p> + +<p>Exactly as though he were going to pick a +flower, with curved hand outstretched Tony +tried to capture and hold one of the dancing +flames. He drew his hand back very quickly, +and Jan expected a loud outcry, but none came. +He sat back on the hearth-rug and rocked his +body to and fro, holding the burnt right hand +with his left, but he did not utter a sound.</p> + +<p>"It does hurt, doesn't it?" said Jan.</p> + +<p>He started at the quiet voice and turned a little +puckered face towards her. "Yes," he said, +with a big sigh; "but I know now."</p> + +<p>"Come with me and I'll put something on it +to make it hurt less," said Jan, and crossed to the +door.</p> + +<p>"Hadn't we better," he said, rather breathlessly, +"put that thing on for fear of Fay?"</p> + +<p>Jan carefully replaced the "thing" and took<!-- Page 161 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span> +him to her room, where she bandaged the poor +little hand with carron-oil and cotton-wool. The +outer edge was scorched from little finger to +wrist. She made no remark while she did it, +and Tony leaned confidingly against her the +while.</p> + +<p>"Is that better?" she asked, when she had fastened +the final safety-pin in the bandage. There +was one big tear on Tony's cheek.</p> + +<p>"It's nice and cool, that stuff. <em>Why</em> does it +hurt so, Auntie Jan? It looks so kind and +pretty."</p> + +<p>"It is kind and pretty, only we mustn't go too +near. Will you be sure and tell Fay how it can +hurt?"</p> + +<p>"I'll <em>tell</em> her," he promised, but he didn't seem +to have much hope of the news acting as a deterrent.</p> + +<p>When at bed-time Jan announced that Tony +could not possibly bathe Fay because he mustn't +get his hand wet or disturb the dressing, she and +Meg tremblingly awaited the awful fuss that +seemed bound to follow.</p> + +<p>But Fay was always unexpected. "Then Med +muss wass me," she remarked calmly. The good +custom was established and Meg began to perk +up again.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 162 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER XIII<br /> +<span class="sub">THE WHEELS OF CHANCE</span></h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">M</span>EG was out walking with the children in +Kensington Gardens, and Hannah was paying +the tradesmen's books. It was the only way +to make Hannah take the air, to send her, as she +put it, "to do the messages." She liked paying +the books herself, for she always suspected Jan of +not counting the change.</p> + +<p>Jan was alone in the flat and was laying tea +for the children in the dining-room when "ting" +went the electric bell. She opened the door to +find upon the threshold an exceedingly tall young +man; a well-set-up, smart young man with square +shoulders, who held out his hand to her, saying +in a friendly voice: "You may just happen to +remember me, Miss Ross, but probably not. +Colonel Walcote's my uncle, and he's living in +your house, you know. My name's Middleton +... I <em>hope</em> you remember me, for I've come to +ask a favour."</p> + +<p>As he spoke he gave Jan his card, and on it +was "Captain Miles Middleton, R. H. A.," and +the addresses of two clubs.</p> + +<p>She led him to the little drawing-room, bracing +herself the while to be firm in her refusal if the +Walcotes wanted the house any longer, good tenants +though they were.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 163 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span> +She was hopelessly vague about her guest, but +felt she had met him somewhere. She didn't like +to confess how slight her recollection was, for he +looked so big and brown and friendly it seemed +unkind.</p> + +<p>He sat down, smoothed his hat, and then with +an engaging smile that showed his excellent teeth, +began: "I've come—it sounds rather farcical, +doesn't it—about a dog?"</p> + +<p>"A dog?" Jan repeated vaguely. "What +dog?"</p> + +<p>"Well, he's my dog at present, but I want him +to be your dog—if you'll have him."</p> + +<p>"You want to give me a dog—but why? Or +do you only want me to keep him a bit for you?"</p> + +<p>"Well, it's like this, Miss Ross; it would be +cheek to ask you to keep a young dog, and when +you'd had all the trouble of him and got fond of +him—and you'll get awfully fond of him, if you +have him—to take him away again. It wouldn't +be fair, it really wouldn't ... so...."</p> + +<p>"Wait a bit," said the cautious Jan. "What +sort of a dog is he ... if it is a he...."</p> + +<p>"He's a bull-terrier...."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but I don't think I'm very fond of bull-terriers +... aren't they fierce and doesn't one +always associate them with public-houses? I +couldn't have a fierce dog, you know, because of +the two children."</p> + +<p>"They're always nice with children," Captain +Middleton said firmly. "And as for the pothouse +idea—that's quite played out. I suppose +it was that picture with the mug and the clay<!-- Page 164 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span> +pipe. He'd <em>love</em> the children; he's only a child +himself, you know."</p> + +<p>"A puppy! Oh, Captain Middleton, wouldn't +he eat all our shoes and things and tear up all the +rugs?"</p> + +<p>"I think he's past that, I do really—he'll be a +year old on Monday. He'll be a splendid watchdog, +and he's not a bit deaf—lots of 'em are, you +know—and he's frightfully well-bred. Just you +look at the pedigree ..." and Captain Middleton +produced from his breast-pocket a folded +foolscap document which he handed to Jan.</p> + +<p>She gazed at it with polite interest, though it +conveyed but little to her mind. The name +"Bloomsbury" seemed to come over and over +again. There were many dates and other names, +but "Bloomsbury" certainly prevailed, and it +was evident that Captain Middleton's dog had +a long pedigree; it was all quite clearly set down, +and, to Jan, very bewildering.</p> + +<p>"His points are on the back page," Captain +Middleton said proudly, "and there isn't a single +one a perfect bull-terrier ought to have that +William Bloomsbury hasn't got."</p> + +<p>"Is that his name?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but I call him William, only he is of the +famous Bloomsbury strain, you know, and one +can't help being a bit proud of it."</p> + +<p>"But," Jan objected, "if he's so well-bred and +perfect, he must be valuable—so why should you +want to give him to me?"</p> + +<p>"I'll explain," said Captain Middleton. "You +see, ever since they've been down at Wren's End,<!-- Page 165 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> +my aunt kept him for me. He's been so happy +there, Miss Ross, and grown like anything. +We're stationed in St. John's Wood just now, +you know, and he'd be certain to be stolen if I +took him back there. And now my aunt's coming +to London to a flat in Buckingham Gate. +Now London's no life for a dog—a young dog, +anyway—he'd be miserable. I've been down to +Wren's End very often for a few days' hunting, +and I can see he's happy as a king there, and we +may be ordered anywhere any day ... and I +don't want to sell him ... You see, I know if +you take him you'll be good to him ... and he +<em>is</em> such a nice beast."</p> + +<p>"How do you know I'd be good to him? You +know nothing about me."</p> + +<p>"Don't I just! Besides, I've seen you, I'm +seeing you now this minute ... I don't want to +force him on you, only ... a lady living alone +in the country ought to have a dog, and if you +take William you won't be sorry—I can promise +you that. He's got the biggest heart, and he's +the nicest beast ... and the most faithful...."</p> + +<p>"Are you sure he'll be quite gentle with the +children?"</p> + +<p>"He's gentle with everybody, and they're well +known to be particularly good with children ... +you ask anyone who knows about dogs. He was +given me when he was three weeks old, and I +could put him in my pocket."</p> + +<p>Captain Middleton was rather appealing just +then, so earnest and big and boyish. His face +was broad though lean, the features rather blunt,<!-- Page 166 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> +the eyes set wide apart; clear, trustworthy, light-blue +eyes. He looked just what he was—a +healthy, happy, prosperous young Englishman +without a real care in the world. After all, Jan +reflected, there was plenty of room at Wren's +End, and it was good for the children to grow up +with animals.</p> + +<p>"I had thought of an Airedale," she said +thoughtfully, "but——"</p> + +<p>"They're good dogs, but quarrelsome—fight +all the other dogs round about. Now William +isn't a fighter unless he's unbearably provoked, +then, of course, he fights to kill."</p> + +<p>"Oh dear!" sighed Jan, "that's an awful prospect. +Think of the trouble with one's neighbours——"</p> + +<p>"But I assure you, it doesn't happen once in a +blue moon. I've never known him fight yet."</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you what, Captain Middleton; let me +keep him for the present, till you know where +you're going to be stationed, and then, if you find +you can have him, he's there for you to take. I'll +do my best for him, but I want you to feel he's +still your dog...."</p> + +<p>"It's simply no end good of you, Miss Ross. +I'd like you to have him though ... May I put +it this way? If you don't like him, find him a +nuisance or want to get rid of him, you send for +me and I'll fetch him away directly. But if you +like him, he's your dog. There—may I leave it +at that?"</p> + +<p>"We'll try to make him happy, but I expect +he'll miss you dreadfully.... I know nothing<!-- Page 167 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> +about bull-terriers; do they need any special +treatment?"</p> + +<p>"Oh dear, no. William's as strong as a young +calf. Just a bone occasionally and any scraps +there are. There's tons of his biscuits down +there ... only two meals a day and no snacks +between, and as much exercise as is convenient—though, +mind you, they're easy dogs in that way—they +don't need you to be racing about all day +like some."</p> + +<p>The present fate of William Bloomsbury with +the lengthy and exalted pedigree being settled, +Jan asked politely for her tenants, Colonel and +Mrs. Walcote, heard that it had been an excellent +and open season, and enjoyed her guest's real +enthusiasm about Wren's End.</p> + +<p>After a few minutes of general conversation he +got up to go. She saw him out and rang up the +lift, but no lift came. She rang again and again. +Nothing happened. Evidently something had +gone wrong, and she saw people walking upstairs +to the flats below. Just as she was explaining the +mishap to her guest, the telephone bell sounded +loudly and persistently.</p> + +<p>"Oh dear!" she cried. "Would you mind +very much stopping a young lady with two little +children, if you meet them at the bottom of the +stairs, and tell her she is on no account to carry +up little Fay. It's my friend, Miss Morton; she's +out with them, and she's not at all strong; tell her +to wait for me. I'll come the minute I've answered +this wretched 'phone."</p> + +<p>"Don't you worry, Miss Ross, I'll stop 'em<!-- Page 168 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> +and carry up the kiddies myself," Captain Middleton +called as he started to run down, and Jan +went back to answer the telephone.</p> + +<p>He ran fast, for Jan's voice had been anxious +and distressed. Five long flights did he descend, +and at the bottom he met Meg and the children +just arrived to hear the melancholy news from +the hall porter.</p> + +<p>Meg always wheeled little Fay to and from +the gardens in the funny little folding "pram" +they had brought from India. The plump baby +was a tight fit, but the queer little carriage was +light and easily managed. The big policeman +outside the gate often held up the traffic to let +Meg and her charges get across the road safely, +and she would sail serenely through the avenue +of fiercely panting monsters with Tony holding +on to her coat, while little Fay waved delightedly +to the drivers. That afternoon she was very +tired, for it had started to rain, cold, gusty March +rain. She had hurried home in dread lest Tony +should take cold. It seemed the last straw, +somehow, that the lift should have gone wrong. +She left the pram with the porter and was just +bracing herself to carry heavy little Fay when +this very tall young man came dashing down the +staircase, saw them and raised his hat. "Miss +Morton? Miss Ross has just entrusted me with +a message ... that I'm to carry her niece upstairs," +and he took little Fay out of Meg's arms.</p> + +<p>Meg looked up at him. She had to look up a +long way—and he looked down into a very small +white face.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 169 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> +The buffeting wind that had given little Fay +the loveliest colour, and Tony a very pink nose, +only left Meg pallid with fatigue; but she smiled +at Captain Middleton, and it was a smile of such +radiant happiness as wholly transfigured her face. +It came from the exquisite knowledge that Jan +had thought of her, had known she would be +tired.</p> + +<p>To be loved, to be remembered, to be taken +care of was to Meg the most wonderful thing in +the world. It went to her head like wine.</p> + +<p>Therefore did she smile at Captain Middleton +in this distracting fashion. It started tremblingly +at the corners of her mouth, and then—quite +suddenly—her wan little face became dimpled +and beseeching and triumphant all at once.</p> + +<p>It had no connection whatsoever with Captain +Middleton, but how was he to know that?</p> + +<p>It fairly bowled him, middle stump, first ball.</p> + +<p>No one had ever smiled at him like that before. +It turned him hot and cold, and gave him +a lump in his throat with the sheer heartrending +pathos of it. And he felt an insane desire to lie +down and ask this tiny, tired girl to walk upon +him if it would give her the smallest satisfaction.</p> + +<p>The whole thing passed in a flash, but for him +it was one of those illuminating beams that discovers +a hitherto undreamed-of panorama.</p> + +<p>He caught up little Fay, who made no objection, +and ran up all five flights about as fast as +he had run down. Jan was just coming out of +the flat.</p> + +<p>"Here's one!" he cried breathlessly, depositing<!-- Page 170 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span> +little Fay. "And now I'll go down and give the +little chap a ride as well."</p> + +<p>He met them half-way up. "Now it's your +turn," he said to Tony. "Would you like to +come on my back?"</p> + +<p>Tony, though taciturn, was not unobservant. +"I think," he said solemnly, "Meg's more tired +nor me. P'raps you'd better take her."</p> + +<p>Meg laughed, and what the rain and wind +could not do, Tony managed. Her cheeks grew +rosy.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid I should be rather heavy, Tony +dear, but it's kind of you to think of it."</p> + +<p>She looked up at Captain Middleton and smiled +again. What a kind world it was! And really +that tall young man was rather a pleasant person. +So it fell out that Tony was carried the +rest of the way, and he had a longer ride than +little Fay; for his steed mounted the staircase +soberly, keeping pace with Meg; they even paused +to take breath on the landings. And it came +about that Captain Middleton went back into +the flat with the children, showing no disposition +to go away, and Jan could hardly do less than +ask him to share the tea she had laid in the +dining-room.</p> + +<p>There he got a shock, for Meg came to tea in +her cap and apron.</p> + +<p>Out of doors she wore a long, warm coat that +entirely covered the green linen frock, and a little +round fur hat. This last was a concession to +Jan, who hated the extinguisher. So Meg looked +very much like any other girl. A little younger,<!-- Page 171 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> +perhaps, than any young woman of twenty-five +has any business to look, but pretty in her queer, +compelling way.</p> + +<p>That she looked even prettier in her uniform +Captain Middleton would have been the first to +allow; but he hated it nevertheless. There +seemed to him something incongruous and wrong +for a girl with a smile like that to be anybody's +nursemaid.</p> + +<p>To be sure, Miss Ross was a brick, and this +queer little servant of hers called her by her +Christian name and contradicted her flatly twice +in the course of tea. Miss Morton certainly did +not seem to be downtrodden ... but she wore +a cap and an apron—a very becoming Quakerish +cap ... without any strings ... and—"it's a +d——d shame," was the outcome of all Captain +Middleton's reflections.</p> + +<p>"Would the man never go?" Jan wondered, +when after a prolonged and hilarious tea he followed +the enraptured children back to the drawing-room +and did tricks with the fire-irons.</p> + +<p>Meg had departed in order to get things ready +for the night, and he hung on in the hope that +she would return. Vain hope; there was no sign +of her.</p> + +<p>He told the children all about William Bloomsbury +and exacted promises that they would love +him very much. He discussed, with many interruptions +from Fay, who wanted all his attention, +the entire countryside round about Wren's +End; and, at last, as there seemed really no +chance of that extraordinary girl's return, he<!-- Page 172 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> +heaved his great length out of his chair and bade +his hostess a reluctant farewell several times over.</p> + +<p>In the passage he caught sight of Meg going +from one room to another with her arms full of +little garments.</p> + +<p>"Ah," he cried, striding towards her. "Good +night, Miss Morton. I hope we shall meet again +soon," and he held out his hand.</p> + +<p>Meg ignored the hand, her own arms were so +full of clothes: "I'm afraid that's not likely," she +said, with unfeeling cheerfulness. "We all go +down to the country on Monday."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, I know. Jolly part of the world it +is, too. I expect I shall be thereabouts a good +deal this summer, my relations positively swarm +in that county."</p> + +<p>"Good-bye," said Meg, and turned to go. Jan +stood at the end of the passage, holding the door +open.</p> + +<p>"I say, Miss Morton, you'll try and like my +William, won't you?"</p> + +<p>"I like all sensible animals," was Meg's response, +and she vanished into a bedroom.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 173 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER XIV<br /> +<span class="sub">PERPLEXITIES</span></h2> + +<p><span class="undrop">"</span><span class="dropcap">D</span>ON'T you think it is very extraordinary +that I have never had one line from Hugo +since the letter I got at Aden?" asked Jan.</p> + +<p>It was Friday evening, the Indian mail was in, +and there was a letter from Peter—the fourth +since her return.</p> + +<p>"But you've heard of him from Mr. Ledgard," +Meg pointed out.</p> + +<p>"Only that he had gone to Karachi from Bombay +just before Fay died—surely he would see +papers there. It seems so heartless never to +have written me a line—I can't believe it, somehow, +even of Hugo—he must be ill or something."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps he was ashamed to write. Perhaps +he felt you would simply loathe him for being +the cause of it all."</p> + +<p>"I did, I do," Jan exclaimed; "but all the same +he is the children's father, and he was her husband—I +don't want anything very bad to happen +to him."</p> + +<p>"It would simplify things very much," Meg +said dreamily.</p> + +<p>Jan held up her hand as if to ward off a blow.</p> + +<p>"Don't, Meg; sometimes I find myself wishing +something of the kind, and I know it's wrong and<!-- Page 174 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> +horrible. I want as far as I can to keep in the +right with regard to Hugo, to give him no grievance +against me. I've written to that bank +where he left the money, and asked them to +forward the letters if he has left any address. +I've told him exactly where we are and what we +propose to do. Beyond the bare facts of Fay's +death—I told him all about her illness as dispassionately +as I could—I've never reproached +him or said anything cruel. You see, the man is +down and out; though Mr. Ledgard always declared +he had any amount of mysterious wires to +pull. Yet, I can't help wondering whether he is +ill somewhere, with no money and no friends, in +some dreadful native quarter."</p> + +<p>"What about the money in the bank, then? +Did you use it?"</p> + +<p>Jan blushed. "No, I couldn't bear to touch +his money ... Mr. Ledgard said it was idiotic...."</p> + +<p>"So it was; it was Fay's money, not his. For +all your good sense, Jan, sometimes you're sentimental +as a schoolgirl."</p> + +<p>"I daresay it was stupid, and I didn't dare to +tell Mr. Ledgard I'd left it," Jan said humbly; +"but I felt that perhaps that money might help +him if things got very desperate; I left it in his +name and a letter telling him I had done so ... +I didn't <em>give</em> him any money...."</p> + +<p>"It was precisely the same thing."</p> + +<p>"And he may never have got the letter."</p> + +<p>"I hope he hasn't."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Meg, I do so hate uncertainty. I'd<!-- Page 175 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> +rather know the worst. I always have the foreboding +that he will suddenly turn up at Wren's +End and threaten to take the children away ... +and get money out of me that way ... and +there's none to spare...."</p> + +<p>"Jan, you've got into a thoroughly nervous, +pessimistic state about Hugo. Why in the world +should he <em>want</em> the children? They'd be terribly +in his way, and wherever he put them he'd have +to pay <em>something</em>. You know very well his +people wouldn't keep them for nothing, even if +he were fool enough (for the sake of blackmailing +you) to threaten to place them there. His sisters +wouldn't—not for nothing. What did Fay say +about his sisters? I remember one came to the +wedding, but she has left no impression on my +mind. He has two, hasn't he?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but only one came, the Blackpool one. +But Fay met both of them, for she spent a week-end +with each, with Hugo, after she was married."</p> + +<p>"Well, and what did she say?"</p> + +<p>Jan laughed and sighed: "She said—you remember +how Fay could say the severest things +in the softest, gentlest voice—that 'for social +purposes they were impossible, but they were +doubtless excellent and worthy of all esteem and +that they were exactly suited to the <i lang="fr">milieu</i> in +which they lived.'"</p> + +<p>"And where do they live?"</p> + +<p>"One lives at Blackpool—she's married to ... +I forget exactly what he is—but it's something to +do with letting houses. They're quite well off +and all her towels had crochet lace at the ends.<!-- Page 176 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span> +Fay was much impressed by this, as it scratched +her nose. They also gave you 'doylies' at afternoon +tea and no servant ever came into the room +without knocking."</p> + +<p>"Any children?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, three."</p> + +<p>"And the other sister?"</p> + +<p>"She lives at Poulton-le-Fylde, and her husband +had to do with a newspaper syndicate. +Quite amusing he was, Fay says, but very shaky +as to the letter 'H.'"</p> + +<p>"Would they like the children?"</p> + +<p>"They might, for they've none of their own, +but they certainly wouldn't take them unless +they were paid for, as they were not well off. +They were rather down on the Blackpool sister, +Fay said, for extravagance and general swank."</p> + +<p>"What about the grandparents?"</p> + +<p>"In Guernsey? They're quite nice old people, +I believe, but curiously—of course I'm quoting +Fay—comatose and uninterested in things, +'behindhand with the world,' she said. They +thought Hugo very wonderful, and seemed rather +afraid of him. What he has told them lately I +don't know. He wrote very seldom, they said; +but <em>I've</em> written to them, saying I've got the +children and where we shall be. If they express +a wish to see the children I'll ask them to Wren's +End. If, as would be quite reasonable, they say +it's too far to come—they're old people, you +know—I suppose one of us would need to take +them over to Guernsey for a visit. I do so want +to do the right thing all round, and then they<!-- Page 177 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span> +can't say I've kept the children away from their +father's relations."</p> + +<p>"Scotch people always think such a lot about +relations," Meg grumbled. "I should leave them +to stew in their own juice. Why should you +bother about them if he doesn't?"</p> + +<p>"They're all quite respectable, decent folk, you +know, though they mayn't be our kind. The +father, I fancy, failed in business after he came +back from India. Fay said he was very meek +and depressed always. I think she was glad none +of them came to the wedding except the Blackpool +sister, for she didn't want Daddie to see +them. He thought the Blackpool sister dreadful +(he told me afterwards that she 'exacerbated his +mind and offended his eye'), but he was charming +to her and never said a word to Fay."</p> + +<p>"I don't see much sign of Hugo and his people +in the children."</p> + +<p>"We can't tell, they're so little. One thing +does comfort me, they show no disposition to tell +lies; but that, I think, is because they have never +been frightened. You see, everyone bowed down +before them; and whatever Indian servants may +be in other respects, they seem to me extraordinarily +kind and patient with children."</p> + +<p>"Jan, what are your views about the bringing +up of children?... You've never said ... and +I should like to know. You see, we're both"—here +Meg sighed deeply and looked portentously +grave—"in a position of awful responsibility."</p> + +<p>They were sitting on each side of the hearth, +with their toes on the fender. Meg had been<!-- Page 178 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span> +sewing at an overall for little Fay, but at that +moment she laid it on her knee and ran her hands +through her cropped hair, then about two inches +long all over her head, so that it stood on end +in broken spirals and feathery curls above her +bright eyes. In the evening the uniform was +discarded "by request."</p> + +<p>Jan looked across at her and laughed.</p> + +<p>So funny and so earnest; so small, and yet so +great with purpose.</p> + +<p>"I don't think I've any views. R. L. S. summed +up the whole duty of children ages ago, and it's +our business to see that they do it—that's all. +Don't you remember:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A child should always say what's true,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And speak when he is spoken to,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And behave mannerly at table:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At least as far as he is able.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>It's no use to expect too much, is it?"</p> + +<p>"If you expect to get the second injunction +carried out in the case of your niece you're a most +optimistic person. For three weeks now I've +been perambulating Kensington Gardens with +those children, and I have never in the whole +course of my life entered into conversation with +so many strangers, and it's always she who begins +it. Then complications arise and I have to +intervene. I don't mind policemen and park-keepers +and roadmen, but I rather draw the line +at idly benevolent old gentlemen who join our +party and seem to spend the whole morning with +us...."</p> + +<p>"But, Meg, that never happens when I'm with<!-- Page 179 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> +you. I confess I've left you to it this last +week...."</p> + +<p>"And what am I here for except to be left to +it—I don't mean that anyone's rude or pushing—but +Miss Tancred <em>is</em> so friendly, and I'm not +dignified and awe-inspiring like you, you great +big Jan; and the poor men are encouraged, directly +and deliberately encouraged, by your niece. +I never knew a child with such a continual flow +of conversation."</p> + +<p>"Poor Meg," said Jan, "you won't have much +more of it. Little Fay <em>is</em> a handful, I confess; +but I always feel it must be a bit hard to be +hushed continually—and just when one feels particularly +bright and sparkling, to have all one's +remarks cut short...."</p> + +<p>"You needn't pity that child. No amount of +hushing has any effect; you might just as well +hush a blackbird or a thrush. Don't look so +worried, Jan. Did Mr. Ledgard say anything +about Hugo in that letter to-night?"</p> + +<p>"Only that he was known to have left Karachi +in a small steamer going round the coast, but +after that nothing more. Mr. Ledgard has a +friend in the Police, and even there they've heard +nothing lately. I think myself the Indian Government +<em>wants</em> to lose sight of Hugo. He's inconvenient +and disgraceful, and they'd like him +blotted out as soon as possible."</p> + +<p>"What else does Mr. Ledgard say? He seems +to write good long letters."</p> + +<p>"He is coming home at the end of April for +six months."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 180 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> +"Oh ... then we shall see him, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"I hope so."</p> + +<p>Meg looked keenly at Jan, who was staring +into the fire, her eyes soft and dreamy; and almost +as if she was unconsciously thinking aloud, +she said: "I do hope, if Hugo chooses to turn up, +he'll wait till Mr. Ledgard is back in England."</p> + +<p>"You think he could manage him?"</p> + +<p>"I know he could."</p> + +<p>"Then let us pray for his return," said Meg.</p> + +<p>The clock on the mantelpiece struck eleven.</p> + +<p>"Bed-time," said Meg, "but I must have just +one cigarette first. That's what's so lovely +about being with you, Jan—you don't mind. Of +course I'd never do it before the children."</p> + +<p>"You wouldn't shock them if you did. Fay +smoked constantly."</p> + +<p>Meg lit her cigarette and clearly showed her +real enjoyment. She had taken to it first when +she was about fifteen, as she found it helped her +to feel less hungry. Now it had become as much +a necessity to her as to many men, and the long +abstinence of term-time had always been a penance.</p> + +<p>She made some good rings, and, leaning forward +to look through them at Jan, said: "By the +way, I must just tell you that for the last three +afternoons we've met that Captain Middleton in +the Gardens."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"And he talks everlastingly about his dog—that +William Bloomsbury creature. I know <em>all</em> +the points of a bull-terrier now—'Well-set head<!-- Page 181 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> +gradually tapering to muzzle, which is very powerful +and well-filled up in front of the eyes. Nose +large and black. Teeth dead-level and big' ... +oh! and reams more, every bit of him accurately +described."</p> + +<p>"I'm a little afraid of those teeth so 'dead-level +and big'—I foresee trouble."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," said Meg easily. "He's evidently a +most affectionate brute. That young man puzzles +me. He's manifestly devoted to the dog, +but he's so sure he'd be stolen he'd rather have +him away from him down at Wren's End than +here with him, to run that risk."</p> + +<p>"Surely," said Jan, "Kensington Gardens are +some distance from St. John's Wood."</p> + +<p>"So one would think, but the rich and idle take +taxis, and he seems to think he can in some way +insure the welfare of his dog through the children +and me."</p> + +<p>"And what about the old gentlemen? Do +they join the party as well?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear no; no old gentlemen would dare to +come within miles of us with that young man in +charge of little Fay. He's like your Mr. Ledgard—very +protective."</p> + +<p>"I like him for being anxious about his dog, +but I'm not quite so sure that I approve of the +means he takes to insure its happiness."</p> + +<p>"I didn't encourage him in the least, I assure +you. I pointed out that he most certainly ought +not to be walking about with a nurse and two +children. That the children without the nurse +would be all right, but that my being there<!-- Page 182 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span> +made the whole thing highly inexpedient, and +<i lang="la">infra dig</i>."</p> + +<p>"Meg!... you didn't!"</p> + +<p>"I did, indeed. There was no use mincing +matters."</p> + +<p>"And what did he say?"</p> + +<p>"He said, 'Oh, that's all bindles'—whatever +that may mean."</p> + +<p>"You mustn't go to the Gardens alone any +more. I'll come with you to-morrow, or, better +still, we'll all go to Kew if it's fine."</p> + +<p>"I <em>should</em> be glad, though I grudge the fares; +but you needn't come. I know how busy you +are, with Hannah away and so much to see to—and +what earthly use am I if I can't look after +the children without you?"</p> + +<p>"You do look after the children without me +for hours and hours on end. I could never trust +anyone else as I do you."</p> + +<p>"I <em>am</em> getting to manage them," Meg said +proudly; "but just to-day I must tell you—it +was rather horrid—we came face to face with the +Trents in the Baby's Walk. Mrs. Trent and +Lotty, the second girl, the big, handsome one—and +he evidently knows them...."</p> + +<p>"Who evidently knows them?"</p> + +<p>"Captain Middleton, silly! (I told you he was +with us, talking about his everlasting dog)—and +they greeted him with effusion, so he had to stop. +But you can imagine how they glared at me. Of +course I walked on with Tony, but little Fay +had his hand—I was wheeling the go-cart thing +and she stuck firmly to him, and I heard her in<!-- Page 183 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span>terrupting +the conversation all the time. He +followed us directly, I'll say that for him, but it +was a bad moment ... You see, they had a +right to glare...."</p> + +<p>"They had nothing of the kind. I wish I got +the chance of glaring at them. Daddie <em>saw</em> Mrs. +Trent; he explained everything, and she said she +quite understood."</p> + +<p>"She would, to him, he was so nice always; but +you see, Jan, I know what she believes and what +she has said, and what she will probably say to +Captain Middleton if she gets the chance."</p> + +<p>Meg's voice broke. "Of course I don't +care——"</p> + +<p>She held her tousled head very high and stuck +out her sharp little chin.</p> + +<p>"My dear," said Jan, "what with my gregarious +niece and my too-attractive nurse, I think +it's a good thing we're all going down to Wren's +End, where the garden-walls are high and the +garden fairly large. Besides all that, there will +be that dog with the teeth 'dead-level and big.'"</p> + +<p>"Remember," said Meg. "He treated me like +a princess always."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 184 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER XV<br /> +<span class="sub">WREN'S END</span></h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">I</span>T stands just beyond the village of Amber +Guiting, on the side furthest from the station, +which is a mile from the village.</p> + +<p>"C. C. S. 1819" is carved above the front door, +but the house was built a good fifty years previous +to that date.</p> + +<p>One Charles Considine Smith, who had been a +shipper of sherry in Billiter Street, in the City of +London, bought it in that year from a Quaker +called Solomon Page, who planted the yew hedge +that surrounds the smooth green lawn seen from +the windows of the morning-room. There was a +curious clause attached to the title-deeds, which +stipulated that no cats should be kept by the +owner of Wren's End, lest they should interfere +with the golden-crested wrens that built in the +said yew hedge, or the brown wrens building at +the foot of the hedges in the orchard. Appended +to this injunction were the following verses:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If aught disturb the wrens that build,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If ever little wren be killed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By dweller in Wren's End—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Misfortunes—whence he shall not know—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall fall on him like noiseless snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all his steps attend.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<!-- Page 185 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span><span class="i0">Peace be upon this house; and all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That dwell therein good luck befall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That do the wrens befriend.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Charles Considine Smith faithfully kept to his +agreement regarding the protection of the wrens, +and much later wrote a series of articles upon +their habits, which appeared in the <cite>North Cotswold +Herald</cite>. He seems to have been on friendly +terms with Solomon Page, who, having inherited +a larger property in the next county, removed +thence when he sold Wren's End.</p> + +<p>In 1824 Smith married Tranquil Page, daughter +of Solomon. She was then thirty-seven years +old, and, according to one of her husband's diaries, +"a staid person like myself." She was +twenty years younger than her husband and +bore him one child, a daughter also named Tranquil.</p> + +<p>She, however, appears to have been less staid +than her parents, for she ran away before she +was twenty with a Scottish advocate called James +Ross.</p> + +<p>The Smiths evidently forgave the wilful Tranquil, +for, on the death of Charles, she and her +husband left Scotland and settled with her mother +at Wren's End. She had two children, Janet, the +great-aunt who left Jan Wren's End, and James, +Jan's grandfather, who was sent to Edinburgh for +his education, and afterwards became a Writer to +the Signet. He married and settled in Edinburgh, +preferring Scotland to England, and it was with +his knowledge and consent that Wren's End was +left to his sister Janet.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 186 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> +Janet never married. She was energetic, prudent, +and masterful, having an excellent head +for business. She was kind to her nephews and +nieces in a domineering sort of way, and had +always a soft place in her heart for Anthony, +though she regarded him as more or less of a +scatter-brain. When she was nearly eighty she +commanded his little girls to visit her. Jan was +then fourteen and Fay eleven. She liked them +because they had good manners and were neither +of them in the least afraid of her. And at her +death, six years later, she left Wren's End to +Jan absolutely—as it stood; but she left her +money to Anthony's elder brother, who had a +large family and was not particularly well off.</p> + +<p>That year was a good artistic year for Anthony, +and he spent over five hundred pounds in—as he +put it—"making Jan's house habitable."</p> + +<p>This proved not a bad investment, for they +had let it every winter since to Colonel Walcote +for the hunting season, as three packs of hounds +met within easy reach of it; and although the +stabling accommodation at Wren's End was but +small, plenty of loose boxes were always obtainable +from Farmer Burgess quite near.</p> + +<p>Amber Guiting is a big village, almost a little +town. It possesses an imposing main street +wherein are several shops, among them a stationer's +with a lending library in connection with +Mudie's; a really beautiful old inn with a courtyard; +and grave-looking, dignified houses occupied +by the doctor, a solicitor, and several other +persons of acknowledged gentility.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 187 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span> +There were many "nice places" round about, +and altogether the inhabitants of Amber Guiting +prided themselves, with some reason, on the +social and æsthetic advantages of their neighbourhood. +Moreover, it is not quite three hours +from Paddington. You catch the express from +the junction.</p> + +<p>Notwithstanding all these agreeable circumstances, +William Bloomsbury was very lonely and +miserable.</p> + +<p>All the friends he knew and loved had gone, +leaving him in the somewhat stepmotherly charge +of a caretaker from the village, who was supposed +to be getting the house ready for its owner. To +join her came Hannah—having left her young +ladies with an "orra-buddy" in the flat. And +after Hannah came the caretaker-lady did not +stop long, for their ideas on the subject of cleanliness +were diametrically opposed. Hannah was +faithful and punctual as regarded William's meals; +but though his body was more comfortable than +during the caretaker's reign, his heart was empty +and hungry, and he longed ardently for social intercourse +and an occasional friendly pat.</p> + +<p>Presently in Hannah's train came Anne Chitt, +a meek young assistant from the village, who +did occasionally gratify William's longing for a +little attention; but so soon as she began to pat +him and say he was a good dog, she was called +away by Hannah to sweep or dust or wash something. +In William's opinion the whole house +was a howling wilderness where pails of water +easily upset, and brooms that fell upon the un<!-- Page 188 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span>suspecting +with resounding blows lay ambushed +in unexpected places.</p> + +<p>Men and dogs alike abhor "spring-cleaning," +and William's heart died within him.</p> + +<p>There came a day, however, when things were +calmer. The echoing, draughty house grew still +and warm, and a fire was lit in the hall. William +lay in front of it unmolested; but he felt dejected +and lonely, and laid his head down on his crossed +paws in patient melancholy.</p> + +<p>Late in the afternoon, there came a sound of +wheels in the drive. Hannah and Anne Chitt, +decorous in black dresses and clean aprons, came +into the hall and opened the front door, and in +three minutes William knew that happier times +were in store for him. The "station-fly" stopped +at the door, and regardless of Hannah's reproving +voice he rushed out to welcome the strangers. +Two children, nice children, who appeared as +glad to see him as he was to see them, who wished +him many happy returns of his birthday—William +had forgotten it was his birthday—and were +as lavish with pats and what little Fay called +"stlokes" as Hannah had been niggardly. There +were also two young ladies, who addressed him +kindly and seemed pleasantly aware of his existence, +and William liked young ladies, for the +three Miss Walcotes had thoroughly spoiled him. +But he decided to attach himself most firmly to +the children and the very small young lady. +Perhaps they would stay. In his short experience +grown people had a cruel way of disappearing. +<!-- Page 189 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> +There was that tall young man ... William +hardly dared let himself think about that +tall young man who had allowed him to lie upon +his bed and was so kind and jolly. "Master" +William had called him. Ah, where was he? +Perhaps he would come back some day. In the +meantime here were plenty of people to love. +William cheered up.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 335px;"> +<a name="William" id="William"></a> +<a href="images/william-lg.jpg" class="noline"> +<img src="images/william-thumb.jpg" width="264" height="400" alt="" title="" /> +<span class="caption u"><br />William rushed out to welcome the strangers. Two ... +nice children.</span></a> +</div> + +<p>He wished to ingratiate himself, and proceeded +to show off his one accomplishment. With infinite +difficulty and patience the Miss Walcotes +had taught him to "give a paw"; so now, on this +first evening, William followed the children about +solemnly offering one paw and then the other; +a performance which was greeted with acclamation.</p> + +<p>When the children went to the bathroom he +somehow got shut outside. So he lay down and +breathed heavily through the bottom of the door +and varied this by thin, high-pitched yelps—which +were really squeals, and very extraordinary +as proceeding from such a large and heavy dog.</p> + +<p>"William wants to come in," Tony said. He +still always accompanied his sister to the bath.</p> + +<p>Meg was seized with an inspiration. "I know +why," she exclaimed. "He expects to see little +Fay in the big bath."</p> + +<p>Fay looked from Meg to her brother and from +her brother to Meg.</p> + +<p>Another dismal squeal from under the door.</p> + +<p>"Does he tluly espect it?" she asked anxiously.</p> + +<p>"I think so," Meg said gravely, "and we can't +let him in if you're going to be washed in the +little bath; he'd be so disappointed."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 190 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> +The little bath stood ready on its stand. Fay +turned her back upon it and went and looked +over the edge of the big bath. It was a very big +bath, white and beautiful, with innumerable silvered +handles that produced sprays and showers +and waves and all sorts of wonders. An extravagance +of Anthony's.</p> + +<p>"Will William come in, too?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"No; he'd make such a mess; but he'd love +to see you. We'll all bathe William some other +time."</p> + +<p>More squeals from outside, varied by dolorous +snores.</p> + +<p>"Let him in," said little Fay. "I'll show him +me."</p> + +<p>Quick as thought Meg lifted her in, opened the +door to the delighted William, who promptly +stood on his hind legs, with his front paws on the +bath, and looked over the edge at little Fay.</p> + +<p>"See me swim," she exclaimed proudly, sitting +down in the water, while William, with his tongue +hanging out and a fond smile of admiration on +his foolish countenance, tried to lick the plump +pink shoulders presented to his view. "This is +a muts nicer baff than the nasty little one. I +can't think what you bringed it for, deah Med."</p> + +<p>"Deah Med" and Tony nodded gaily to one +another.</p> + +<p>Hannah had made William sleep in the scullery, +which he detested. She put his basket +there and his blanket, and he was warm enough, +but creature comforts matter little to the right +kind of dog. It's human fellowship he craves.<!-- Page 191 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span> +That night she came to fetch him at bed-time, +and he refused point-blank to go. He put his +head on Meg's knee and gazed at her with beseeching +eyes that said as plainly as possible: +"Don't banish me—where you go I go—don't +break my heart and send me away into the +cold."</p> + +<p>Perhaps the cigarette smoke that hung about +Meg gave him confidence. His master smelt like +that. And William went to bed with his master.</p> + +<p>"D'you think he might sleep in the dressing-room?" +Meg asked. "I know how young dogs +hate to be alone at night. Put his basket there, +Hannah—I'll let him out and see to him, and you +could get him first thing in the morning."</p> + +<p>Hannah gave a sniff of disapproval, but she +was always very careful to do whatever Meg +asked her at once and ungrudgingly. It was +partly an expression of her extreme disapproval of +the uniform. But Meg thought it was prompted +entirely by Hannah's fine feeling, and loved her +dearly in consequence.</p> + +<p>Nearly all the bedrooms at Wren's End had +dressing-rooms. Tony slept in Jan's, with the +door between left open. Fay's little cot was +drawn up close to Meg's bed. William and his +basket occupied the dressing-room, and here, also, +the door was left open.</p> + +<p>While Meg undressed, William was quite still +and quiet, but when she knelt down to say her +prayers he was overcome with curiosity, and, getting +out of his basket, lurched over to her to see +what she was about. Could she be crying that<!-- Page 192 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span> +she covered her face? William couldn't bear +people to cry.</p> + +<p>He thrust his head under her elbow. She put +her arm round his neck and he sat perfectly still.</p> + +<p>"Pray for your master, William," Meg whispered.</p> + +<hr class="wide" /> + +<p>"I like to look at it," said Tony.</p> + +<p>"Oh, London may be very gay, but it's nothing +to the countryside," sang Meg.</p> + +<p>"What nelse?" inquired little Fay, who could +never be content with a mere snatch of song.</p> + +<p>"Oh, there's heaps and heaps of nelse," Jan +answered. "Come along, chicks, we'll go and +see everything. This is home, you know, where +dear Mummy wanted you to be."</p> + +<p>It was their first day at Wren's End, and the +weather was kind. They were all four in the +drive, looking back at the comfortable stone-fronted +Georgian house. The sun was shining, a +cheerful April sun that had little warmth in it +but much tender light; and this showed how all +around the hedges were getting green; that buds +were bursting from brown twigs, as if the kind +spring had covered the bare trees with a thin +green veil; and that all sorts of green spears were +thrusting up in the garden beds.</p> + +<p>Down the drive they all four ran, accompanied +by a joyfully galumphing William, who was in +such good spirits that he occasionally gave vent +to a solemn deep-chested bark.</p> + +<p>When they came to the squat grey lodge, there +was Mrs. Earley standing in her doorway to wel<!-- Page 193 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span>come +them. Mrs. Earley was Earley's mother, +and Earley was gardener and general factotum at +Wren's End. Mrs. Earley looked after the chickens, +and when she had exchanged the news with +Jan, and rather tearfully admired "poor Mrs. +Tancred's little 'uns," she escorted them all to +the orchard to see the cocks and hens and chickens. +Then they visited the stable, where Placid, +the pony, was sole occupant. In former years +Placid had been kept for the girls to drive in the +governess-cart and to pull the heavy lawn-mower +over the lawns. And Hannah had been wont to +drive him into Amesberrow every Sunday, that +she might attend the Presbyterian church there. +She put him up at a livery-stable near her church +and always paid for him herself. Anthony Ross +usually had hired a motor for the summer months. +Now they would depend entirely on Placid and a +couple of bicycles for getting about. All round +the walled garden did they go, and Meg played +horses with the children up and down the broad +paths while Jan discussed vegetables with Earley. +And last of all they went to the back door to +ask Hannah for milk and scones, for the keen, +fresh air had made them all hungry.</p> + +<p>Refreshed and very crumby, they were starting +out again when Hannah laid a detaining hand on +Jan's arm: "Could you speak a minute, Miss +Jan?"</p> + +<p>The children and Meg gone, Hannah led the +way into the kitchen with an air of great mystery; +but she did not shut the doors, as Anne +Chitt was busy upstairs.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 194 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> +"What is it, Hannah?" Jan asked nervously, +for she saw that this summons portended something +serious.</p> + +<p>"It's about Miss Morton I want to speak, Miss +Jan. I was in hopes she'd never wear they play-acting +claes down here ..." (when Hannah was +deeply earnest she always became very Scotch), +"but it seems I hoped in vain. And what am I +to say to ither folk when they ask me about her?"</p> + +<p>"What is there to say, Hannah, except that she +is my dear friend, and by her own wish is acting +as nurse to my sister's children?"</p> + +<p>"I ken that; I'm no sayin' a word against that; +but first of all she goes and crops her hair—fine +hair she had too, though an awfu-like colour—and +not content with flying in the face of Providence +that way, she must needs dress like a servant. +And no a weiss-like servant, either, but +one o' they besoms ye see on the hoardings in +London wha act in plays. Haven't I seen the +pictures mysel'? 'The Quaker Gerrl,' or some +such buddy."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I assure you, Hannah, Miss Morton in +no way resembles those ladies, and I can't see +that it's any business of ours what she wears. +You know that she certainly does what she has +undertaken to do in the best way possible."</p> + +<p>"I'm no saying a word against her wi' the children, +and there never was a young lady who gave +less trouble, save in the way o' tobacco ash, and +was more ready to help—but yon haverals is very +difficult to explain. <em>You</em> may understand, Miss +Jan. I may <em>say</em> I understand—though I don't<!-- Page 195 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span>—but +who's to make the like o' that Anne Chitt +understand? Only this morning she keeps on at +me wi' her questions like the clapper o' a bell. +'Is she a servant? If she's no, why does she +wear servants' claes? Why does she have hair +like a boy? Has she had a fever or something +wrong wi' her heid? Is she one of they suffragette +buddies and been in prison?'—till I was +fair deeved and bade the lassie hold her tongue. +But so it will be wherever Miss Morton goes in +they fantastic claes. Now, Miss Jan, tell me the +honest truth—did you ever see a self-respecting, +respectable servant in the like o' yon? Does she +<em>look</em> like any servant you've ever heard tell of +out of a stage-play?"</p> + +<p>"Not a bit, Hannah; she looks exactly like herself, +and therefore not in the least like any other +person. Don't you worry. Miss Morton requires +no explanation. All we must do is to see +that she doesn't overwork herself."</p> + +<p>"Then ye'll no speak to her, Miss Jan?"</p> + +<p>"Not I, Hannah. Why should I dictate to her +as to what she wears? She doesn't dictate to me."</p> + +<p>This was not strictly true, for Meg was most +interfering in the matter of Jan's clothes. Hannah +shook her head. "I thocht it my duty to +speak, Miss Jan, and I'll say no more. But it's +sheer defiance o' her Maker to crop her heid and +to clothe herself in whim-whams, when she could +be dressed like a lady; and I'm real vexed she +should make such an object of herself when she +might just be quite unnoticeable, sae wee and +shelpit as she is."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 196 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span> +"I'm afraid," said Jan, "that Miss Morton will +never be quite unnoticeable, whatever she may +wear. But don't let us talk about it any more. +You understand, don't you, Hannah?"</p> + +<p>When Jan's voice took that tone Hannah knew +that further argument was unavailing.</p> + +<p>Jan turned to go, and saw Tony waiting for +her in the open doorway. Neither of them had +either heard or seen him come.</p> + +<p>Quite silently he took her hand and did not +speak till they were well away from the house. +Meg and little Fay were nowhere in sight. Jan +wondered how much he had heard.</p> + +<p>"She's a very proud cook, isn't she?" he said +presently.</p> + +<p>"She's a very old servant," Jan explained, +"who has known me all my life."</p> + +<p>"If," said Tony, as though after deep thought, +"she gets very chubbelsome, you send for me. +Then I will go to her and say '<i>Jāŏ!</i>'" Tony +followed this up by some fluent Hindustani which, +had Jan but known it, seriously reflected on the +character of Hannah's female ancestry. "I'll say +'<i>Jāŏ!</i>'," he went on. "I'll say it several times +very loud, and point to the door. Then she'll +roll up her bedding, and you'll give her money +and her chits, and she will depart."</p> + +<p>They had reached a seat. On this Jan sank, +for the vision of Tony pointing majestically down +the drive while little Hannah staggered into the +distance under a rolled-up mattress, was too much +for her.</p> + +<p>"But I don't want her to go," she gasped. "I +love her dearly."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 197 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span> +"She should not speak to you like that; she +scolded you," he said firmly. "She is a servant +... She <em>is</em> a servant?" he added doubtfully.</p> + +<p>"How much did you hear of what she said? +Did you understand?"</p> + +<p>"I came back directly to fetch you, I thought +she <em>sounded</em> cross. Mummy was afraid when +people were cross; she liked me to be with her. I +thought you would like me to be with you. If +she was very rude I could beat her. I beat the +boy—not Peter's boy, our boy—he was rude to +Mummy. He did not dare to touch me because +I am a sahib ... I will beat Hannah if you like."</p> + +<p>Tony stood in front of Jan, very earnest, with +an exceedingly pink nose, for the wind was keen. +He had never before said so much at one time.</p> + +<p>"Shall I go back and beat her?" he asked +again.</p> + +<p>"Certainly not," Jan cried, clutching Tony +lest he should fly off there and then. "We don't +<em>do</em> such things here at home. Nobody is beaten, +ever. I'm sure Peter never beats his servants."</p> + +<p>"No," Tony allowed. "A big sahib must not +strike a servant, but I can, and I do if they are +rude. She was rude about Meg."</p> + +<p>"She didn't mean to be rude."</p> + +<p>"She found fault with her clothes and her hair. +She is a very proud and impudent cook."</p> + +<p>"Tony dear, you really don't understand. She +wasn't a bit rude. She was afraid other people +might mistake Meg for a servant. She was all +<em>for</em> Meg—truly she was."</p> + +<p>"She scolded you," he rejoined obstinately.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 198 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> +"Not really, Tony; she didn't mean to scold."</p> + +<p>Tony looked very hard at Jan.</p> + +<p>In silence they stared at one another for quite +a minute. Jan got up off the seat.</p> + +<p>"Let's go and find the others," she said.</p> + +<p>"She is a very proud cook," Tony remarked +once more.</p> + +<p>Jan sighed.</p> + +<hr class="space" /> + +<p>That night while she was getting ready for bed +Tony woke up. His cot was placed so that he +could see into Jan's room, and the door between +was always left open. She was standing before +the dressing-table, taking down her hair.</p> + +<p>Unlike the bedrooms at the flat, the room was +not cold though both the windows were open. +Wren's End was never cold, though always fresh, +for one of Anthony's earliest improvements had +been a boiler-house and central heating, with +radiators set under the windows, so that they +could always stand open.</p> + +<p>Jan had not put on her dressing-gown, and her +night-dress had rather short, loose sleeves that +fell back from her arms as she raised them.</p> + +<p>He watched the white arm wielding the brush +with great pleasure; he decided he liked to look +at it.</p> + +<p>"Auntie Jan!"</p> + +<p>She turned and flung her hair back from her +face in a great silver cloud.</p> + +<p>"You awake, sonny! Did I make a noise?"</p> + +<p>"No, I just woke. Auntie Jan, will Daddie +ever come here?"</p> + +<p><!-- Page 199 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span> +"I expect so."</p> + +<p>"Well, listen. If he does, he shan't take your +things, your pretty twinkly things. I won't let +him."</p> + +<p>Jan stood as if turned to stone.</p> + +<p>"He took Mummy's. I saw him; I couldn't +stop him, I was so little. But she <em>said</em>—she said +it twice before she went away from that last bungalow—she +said: 'Take care of Auntie Jan, Tony; +don't let Daddie take her things.' So I won't."</p> + +<p>Tony was sitting up. His room was all in +darkness; two candles were lit on Jan's dressing-table. +He could see her, but she couldn't see +him.</p> + +<p>She came to him, stooped over him, and laid +her cheek against his so that they were both +veiled with her hair. "Darling, I don't think +poor Daddie would want to take my things. You +must try not to think hardly of Daddie."</p> + +<p>Tony parted the veil of hair with a gentle hand +so that they could both see the candles.</p> + +<p>"You don't know my Daddie ... much," he +said, "do you?"</p> + +<p>Jan shuddered.</p> + +<p>"I saw him," he went on in his queer little +unemotional voice. "I saw him take all her +pretty twinkly things; and her silver boxes. I'm +glad I sleep here."</p> + +<p>"Did she mind much?" Jan whispered.</p> + +<p>"I don't know. She didn't see him take them, +only me. She hadn't come to bed. She never +said nothing to me—only about you."</p> + +<p>"I don't expect," Jan made a great effort to<!-- Page 200 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span> +speak naturally, "that Daddie would care about +my things ... It's different, you see."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad I sleep here," Tony repeated, "and +there's William only just across the passage."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 201 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER XVI<br /> +<span class="sub">"THE BLUDGEONINGS OF CHANCE"</span></h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">T</span>HEY had been at Wren's End nearly three +weeks, and sometimes Jan wondered if she +appeared to Tony as unlike her own conception +of herself as Tony's of his father was unlike what +she had pictured him.</p> + +<p>She knew Hugo Tancred to be dishonest, +shifty, and wholly devoid of a sense of honour, +but she had up till quite lately always thought +of him as possessing a lazy sort of good-nature.</p> + +<p>Tony was changing this view.</p> + +<p>He was not yet at all talkative, but every now +and then when he was alone with her he became +frank and communicative, as reserved people +often will when suddenly they let themselves go. +And his very simplicity gave force to his revelations.</p> + +<p>During their last year together in India it was +evident that downright antagonism had existed +between Hugo Tancred and his little son. Tony +had weighed his father and found him wanting; +and it was clear that he had tried to insert his +small personality as a buffer between his father +and mother.</p> + +<p>Jan talked constantly to the children of their +mother. Her portraits, Anthony's paintings and<!-- Page 202 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span> +sketches, were all over the house, in every variety +of happy pose. One of the best was hung at the +foot of Tony's cot. The gentle blue eyes seemed +to follow him in wistful benediction, and alone in +bed at night he often thought of her, and of his +home in India. It was, then, quite natural that +he should talk of them to this Auntie Jan who +had evidently loved his mother well; and from +Tony Jan learned a good deal more about her +brother-in-law than she had ever heard from his +wife.</p> + +<p>Tony loved to potter about with his aunt in +the garden. She worked really hard, for there +was much to do, and he tried his best to assist, +often being a very great hindrance; but she never +sent him away, for she desired above all things +to gain his confidence.</p> + +<p>One day after a hard half-hour's weeding, when +Tony had wasted much time by pulling up several +sorts of the wrong thing, Jan felt her temper +getting edgy, so they sat down to rest upon one +of the many convenient seats to be found at +Wren's End. Anthony hated a garden where +you couldn't sit comfortably and smoke, wheresoever +the prospect was pleasing.</p> + +<p>Tony sat down too, looking almost rosy after +his labours.</p> + +<p>He didn't sit close and cuddly, as little Fay +would have done, but right at the other end of +the seat, where he could stare at her. Every day +was bringing Tony more surely to the conclusion +that "he liked to look at" his aunt.</p> + +<p>"You like Meg, don't you?" he said.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 203 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span> +"No," Jan shook her head. "I don't like her. +I love her; which is quite a different thing."</p> + +<p>"Do you like people and love them?"</p> + +<p>"I like some people—a great many people—then +there are others, not so many, that I love—you're +one of them."</p> + +<p>"Is Fay?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, dear little Fay."</p> + +<p>"And Peter?"</p> + +<p>For a moment Jan hesitated. With heightened +colour she met Tony's grave, searching eyes. +Above everything she desired to be always true +and sincere with him, that he might, as on that +first night in England, feel that he "believed" +her. "I have every reason to love Mr. Ledgard," +she said slowly: "he was so wonderfully kind to +all of us." She was determined to be loyal to +Peter with poor Fay's children. Jan hated ingratitude. +To have said she only liked Peter +must have given Tony the impression that she +was both forgetful and ungrateful. She would +not risk that even though she might risk misunderstanding +of another kind if he ever repeated +her words to anybody else.</p> + +<p>Her heart beat rather faster than was comfortable, +and she was thankful that she and Tony +were alone.</p> + +<p>"Who <em>do</em> you like?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Nearly everybody; the people in the village, +our good neighbours ... Can't you see the difference +yourself? Now, you love your dear +Mummy and you like ... say, William——"</p> + +<p>"No," Tony said firmly, "I love William. I<!-- Page 204 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span> +don't think," he went on, "I like people ... +much. Either I love them like you said, or I +don't care about them at all ... or I hate them."</p> + +<p>"That," said Jan, "is a mistake. It's no use +to hate people."</p> + +<p>"But if you feel like it ... I hate people if +they cheat me."</p> + +<p>"But who on earth would cheat you? What +do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Once," said Tony, and by the monotonous, +detached tone of his voice Jan knew he was going +to talk about his father, "my Daddie asked me +if I'd like to see smoke come out of his ears ... +an' he said: 'Put your hand here on me and +watch very careful.'" Tony pointed to Jan's +chest. "I put my hand there and I watched and +watched an' he hurt me with the end of his cigar. +There's the mark!" He held out a grubby little +hand, back uppermost, for Jan's inspection, and +there, sure enough, was the little round white +scar.</p> + +<p>"And what did you do?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I bit him."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Tony, how dreadful!"</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't of minded so much if he'd really +done it—the smoke out of his ears, I mean; but +not one teeniest little puff came. I watched so +careful ... He cheated me."</p> + +<p>Jan said nothing. What could she say? Hot +anger burned in her heart against Hugo. She +could have bitten him herself.</p> + +<p>"Peter was there," Tony went on, "and Peter +said it served him right."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 205 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span> +"Yes," said Jan, grasping at this straw, "but +what did Peter say to you?"</p> + +<p>"He said, 'Sahibs don't cry and sahibs don't +bite,' and if I was a sahib I mustn't do it, so I +don't. I don't bite people often."</p> + +<p>"I should hope not; besides, you know, sometimes +quite good-natured people will do things in +fun, never thinking it will hurt."</p> + +<p>Tony gazed gloomily at Jan. "He cheated +me," he repeated. "He said he would make it +come out of his ears, and it didn't. He didn't +like me—that's why."</p> + +<p>"I don't think you ought to say that, and be +so unforgiving. I expect Daddie forgot all about +your biting him directly, and yet you remember +what he did after this long time."</p> + +<p>Poor Jan did try so hard to be fair.</p> + +<p>"I wasn't afraid of him," Tony went on, as +though he hadn't heard, "not really. Mummy +was. She was drefully afraid. He said he'd +whip me because I was so surly, and she was +afraid he would ... I <em>knew</em> he wouldn't, not unless +he could do it some cheaty way, and you +can't whip people that way. But it frightened +Mummy. She used to send me away when he +came...."</p> + +<p>Tony paused and knitted his brows, then suddenly +he smiled. "But I always came back very +quick, because I knew she wanted me, and I +liked to look at him. He liked Fay, I suppose +he liked to look at her, so do I. Nobody wants +to look at me ... much ... except Mummy."</p> + +<p>"I do," Jan said hastily. "I like to look at<!-- Page 206 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span> +you just every bit as much as I like to look at +Fay. I think you care rather too much what +people look like, Tony."</p> + +<p>"It does matter a lot," Tony said obstinately.</p> + +<p>"Other things matter much more. Courage +and kindness and truth and honesty. Look at +Mr. Ledgard—he's not what you'd call a beautiful +person, and yet I'm sure we all like to look +at him."</p> + +<p>"Sometimes you say Peter, and sometimes Mr. +Ledgard. Why?"</p> + +<p>Again Jan's heart gave that queer, uncomfortable +jump. She certainly always <em>thought</em> of him +as Peter. Quite unconsciously she occasionally +spoke of him as Peter. Meg had observed this, +but, unlike Tony, made no remark.</p> + +<p>"Why?" Tony repeated.</p> + +<p>"I suppose," Jan mumbled feebly, "it's because +I hear the rest of you do it. I've no sort of right +to."</p> + +<p>"Auntie Jan," Tony said earnestly. "What is +a devil?"</p> + +<p>"I haven't the remotest idea, Tony," Jan replied, +with the utmost sincerity.</p> + +<p>"It isn't anything very nice, is it, or nice to +look at?"</p> + +<p>"It might be," said Jan, with Scottish caution.</p> + +<p>"Daddie used to call me a surly little devil—when +I used to come back because Mummy was +frightened ... she was always frightened when +he talked about money, and he did it a lot ... +When he saw me, he would say: 'Wot you do<!-- Page 207 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span>ing +here, you surly little devil—listening, eh?'" +Tony's youthful voice took on such a snarl that +Jan positively jumped, and put out her hand +to stop him. "'I'll give you somefin to listen +to....'"</p> + +<p>"Tony, Tony, couldn't you try to forget all +that?"</p> + +<p>Tony shook his head. "No! I shall never +forget it, because, you see, it's all mixed up with +Mummy so, and you said"—here Tony held up +an accusing small finger at Jan—"you said I was +never to forget her, not the least little bit."</p> + +<p>"I know I did," Jan owned, and fell to pondering +what was best to be done about these memories. +Absently she dug her hoe into the ground, +making ruts in the gravel, while Tony watched +her solemnly.</p> + +<p>"Then why," he went on, "do you not want +me to remember Daddie?"</p> + +<p>"Because," said Jan, "everything you seem to +remember sounds so unkind."</p> + +<p>"Well, I can't help that," Tony answered.</p> + +<p>Jan arose from the seat. "If we sit idling here +all afternoon," she remarked severely, "we shall +never get that border weeded for Earley."</p> + +<p>The afternoon post came in at four, and when +Jan went in there were several letters for her on +the hall-table, spread out by Hannah in a neat +row, one above the other. It was Saturday, and +the Indian mail was in. There was one from +Peter, but it was another letter that Jan seized +first, turning it over and looking at the post-mark, +which was remarkably clear. She knew<!-- Page 208 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span> +the excellent handwriting well, though she had +seen it comparatively seldom.</p> + +<p>It was Hugo Tancred's; and the post-mark +was Port Said. She opened it with hands that +trembled, and it said:</p> + +<div class="letter"><p>"<span class="smcap">My Dear Jan</span>,</p> + +<p>"In case other letters have miscarried, which +is quite possible while I was up country, let me +assure you how grateful I am for all you did for +my poor wife and the children—and for me in +letting me know so faithfully what your movements +have been. I sent to the bank for your +letters while passing through Bombay recently, +and but for your kindness in allowing the money +I had left for my wife's use to remain to my +credit, I should have been unable to leave India, +for things have gone sadly against me, and the +world is only too ready to turn its back upon a +broken man.</p> + +<p>"When I saw by the notice in the papers that +my beloved wife was no more, I realised that for +me the lamp is shattered and the light of my life +extinguished. All that remains to me is to make +the best of my poor remnant of existence for the +sake of my children.</p> + +<p>"We will talk over plans when we meet. I +hope to be in England in about another month, +perhaps sooner, and we will consult together as +to what is best to be done.</p> + +<p>"I have no doubt it will be possible to find a +good and cheap preparatory school where Tony +can be safely bestowed for the present, and one<!-- Page 209 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span> +of my sisters would probably take my precious +little Fay, if you find it inconvenient to have her +with you. A boy is always better at school as +soon as possible, and I have strong views as to +the best methods of education. I never for a +moment forget my responsibilities towards my +children and the necessity for a father's supreme +authority.</p> + +<p>"You may be sure that, in so far as you make +it possible for me to do so, I will fall in with +your wishes regarding them in every way.</p> + +<p>"It will not be worth your while writing to +me here, as my plans are uncertain. I will try +to give you notice of my arrival, but may reach +you before my next letter.</p> + +<p class="ralign"><span class="pad-r4">"Yours affectionately,</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">"Hugo Tancred</span>."</p> +</div> + +<p>Still as a statue sat Jan. From the garden +came the cheerful chirruping of birds and constant, +eager questioning of Earley by the children. +Earley's slow Gloucestershire speech rumbled on +in muffled <i lang="it">obbligato</i> to the higher, carrying, little +voices.</p> + +<p>The whirr of a sewing-machine came from the +morning-room, now the day-nursery, where Meg +was busy with frocks for little Fay.</p> + +<p>In a distant pantry somebody was clinking teacups. +Jan shivered, though the air from the +open window was only fresh, not cold. At that +moment she knew exactly how an animal feels +when caught in a trap. Hugo Tancred's letter +was the trap, and she was in it. With the ex<!-- Page 210 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span>ception +of the lie about other letters—Jan was +perfectly sure he had written no other letters—and +the stereotyped phrases about shattered +lamps and the wife who was "no more," the letter +was one long menace—scarcely veiled. That +sentence, "in so far as you make it possible for +me to do so, I will fall in with your wishes regarding +them in every way," simply meant that if +Jan was to keep the children she must let Hugo +make ducks and drakes of her money; and if he +took her money, how could she do what she +ought for the children?</p> + +<p>And he was at Port Said; only a week's journey.</p> + +<p>Why had she left that money in Bombay? +Why had she not listened to Peter? Sometimes +she had thought that Peter held rather a cynically +low view of his fellow-creatures—some of +his fellow-creatures. Surely no one could be all +bad? Jan had hoped great things of adversity +for Hugo Tancred. Peter indulged in no such +pleasant illusions, and said so. "Schoolgirl sentimentality" +Meg had called it, and so it was. +"No doubt it will be possible to find some cheap +preparatory school for Tony."</p> + +<p>Would he try to steal Tony?</p> + +<p>From the charitable mood that hopeth all +things Jan suddenly veered to a belief in all +things evil of her brother-in-law. At that moment +she felt him capable of murdering the child +and throwing his little body down a well, as they +do in India.</p> + +<p>Again she shivered.</p> + +<p>What was she to do?</p> + +<p><!-- Page 211 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span> +So helpless, so unprotected; so absolutely at +his mercy because she loved the children. "Never +let him blackmail you," Peter had said. "Stand +up to him always, and he'll probably crumple +up."</p> + +<p>Suddenly, as though someone had opened shutters +in a pitch-dark room, letting in the blessed +light, Jan remembered there was also a letter +from Peter.</p> + +<p>She crossed the hall to get it, though her legs +shook under her and her knees were as water.</p> + +<p>She felt she couldn't get back to the window-seat, +so she sat on the edge of the gate-table and +opened the letter.</p> + +<p>A very short letter, only one side of a page.</p> + +<div class="letter"> +<p class="smcap">"Dear Miss Ross,</p> + +<p>"This is the last mail for a bit, for I come +myself by the next, the <i>Macedonia</i>. You may +catch me at Aden, but certainly a note will get +me at Marseilles, if you are kind enough to write. +Tancred has been back in Bombay and gone +again in one of the smaller home-going boats. +Where he got the money to go I can't think, for +from many sources lately I've heard that his various +ventures have been far from prosperous, and +no one will trust him with a rupee.</p> + +<p>"So look out for blackmail, and be firm, mind.</p> + +<p>"I go to my aunt in Artillery Mansions on +arrival. When may I run down to see you all?</p> + +<p class="ralign"><span class="pad-r3">"Yours always sincerely,</span><br /> +"<span class="smcap">Peter Ledgard</span>."</p> +</div> + +<p><!-- Page 212 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER XVII<br /> +<span class="sub">"THOUGH AN HOST SHOULD ENCAMP AGAINST ME"</span></h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">T</span>HE flap of the gate-leg table creaked under +Jan's weight, but she dug her heels into +the rug and balanced, for she felt incapable of +moving.</p> + +<p>Peter was coming home; if the worst came to +the worst he would deal with Hugo, and a respite +would be gained. But Peter would go out to +India again and Hugo would not. The whole +miserable business would be repeated—and how +could she continue to worry Peter with her affairs? +What claim had she upon him? As though she +were some stranger seeing it for the first time, +Jan looked round the square, comfortable hall. +She saw it with new eyes sharpened by apprehension; +yet everything was solidly the same.</p> + +<p>The floor with its draught-board pattern of +large, square, black and white stones; the old +dark chairs; the high bookcases at each side of +the hearth; the wide staircase with its spacious, +windowed turning and shallow steps, so easily +traversed by little feet; the whole steeped in that +atmosphere of friendly comfort that kind old +houses get and keep.</p> + +<p>Such a good place to be young in.</p> + +<p>Such a happy place, so safe and sheltered and +pleasant.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 213 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span> +Outside the window a wren was calling to his +mate with a note that sounded just like a faint +kiss; such a tender little song.</p> + +<p>The swing door was opened noisily and Anne +Chitt appeared bearing the nursery tea-tray, deposited +it in the nursery, opened the front door, +thumped on the gong and vanished again. Meg +came out from the nursery with two pairs of +small slippers in her hand: "Where are my children? +I left little Fay with Earley while I finished +the overalls; he's a most efficient under-nurse—I +suppose you left Tony with him too. +Such a lot of letters for you. Did you get your +mail? I heard from both the boys. Ah, sensible +Earley's taking them round to the back door. +Where's William's duster? Hannah does make +such a fuss about paw-marks." And Meg, too, +vanished through the swing door.</p> + +<p>Slowly Jan dragged herself off the table, gathered +up her unread letters, and went into the +nursery. She felt as though she were dreadfully +asleep and couldn't awake to realise the wholesome +everyday world around her.</p> + +<p>Vaguely she stared round the room, the most +charming room in Wren's End. Panelled in +wood long since painted white, with two delightful +rounded corner cupboards, it gave straight +on to the wrens' sunk lawn from a big French +window with steps, an anachronism added by +Miss Janet Ross. Five years ago Anthony had +brought a beautiful iron gate from Venice that +fitted into the archway, cut through the yew +hedge and leading to the drive. Jan had given<!-- Page 214 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span> +this room to the children because in summer they +could spend the whole day in its green-walled +garden, quite safe and shut in from every possibility +of mischief. A sun-dial was in the centre, +and in one corner a fat stone cherub upheld a +bath for the birds. Daffodils were in bloom on +the banks, and one small single tulip of brilliant +red. Jan went out and stood on the top step.</p> + +<p>Long immunity from menace of any kind had +made all sorts of little birds extraordinarily bold +and friendly. Even the usually shy and furtive +golden-crested wrens fussed in and out under the +yew hedge quite regardless of Jan.</p> + +<p>Through an open window overhead came the +sound of cheerful high voices, and little Fay +started to sing at the top of her strong treble:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thlee mice went into a hole to spin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Puss came by, and puss peeped in;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What are you doing, my littoo old men?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We're weaving coats for gentoomen.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"Is that what I've been doing?" thought Jan. +"Weaving coats of many colours out of happy +dreams?" Were she and the children the mice, +she wondered.</p> + +<p>Marauding cats had been kept away from +Wren's End for over a hundred years. "The +little wrens that build" had been safe enough. +But what of these poor human nestlings?</p> + +<p>"Shall I come and help loo to wind up loo +thleds?" sang little Fay. "Oh, no, Missis Pussy, +you'd bite off our heads!" And Tony joined in +with a shout: "Oh, no, Missis Pussy, you'd bite +off our heads."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 215 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span> +The voices died away, the children were coming +downstairs.</p> + +<p>Jan drank three cups of tea and crumbled one +piece of bread and butter on her plate. The rest +of the party were hungry and full of adventures. +Before she joined Earley little Fay had been to +the village with Meg to buy tape, and she had a +great deal to say about this expedition. Meg +saw that something was troubling Jan, and wondered +if Mr. Ledgard had given her fresh news of +Hugo. But Meg never asked questions or worried +people. She chattered to the children, and +immediately after tea carried them off for the +usual washing of hands.</p> + +<p>Jan went out into the hall; the door was open +and the sunny spring evening called to her. When +she was miserable she always wanted to walk, and +she walked now; swiftly down the drive she went +and out along the road till she came to the church, +which stood at the end of the village nearest to +Wren's End.</p> + +<p>She turned into the churchyard, and up the +broad pathway between the graves to the west +door.</p> + +<p>Near the door was a square headstone marking +the grave of Charles Considine Smith; and +she paused beside it to read once more the somewhat +strange inscription.</p> + +<p>Under his name and age, cut deep in the moss-grown +stone, were the words: "<i>Though an host +should encamp against me, my heart shall not fear.</i>"</p> + +<p>Often before Jan had wondered what could +have caused Tranquil, his wife, to choose so<!-- Page 216 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> +strenuous an epitaph. Tranquil, who had never +stirred twenty miles from the place where she +was born; whose very name, so far as they could +gather, exemplified her life.</p> + +<p>What secret menace had threatened this "staid +person," this prosperous shipper of sherry who, +apparently, had spent the evening of his life in +observing the habits of wrens.</p> + +<p>Why should his gentle wife have thus commemorated +his fighting spirit?</p> + +<p>Be the reason what it might, Jan felt vaguely +comforted. There was triumph as well as trust +in the words. Whatever it was that had threatened +him, he had stood up to it. His wife knew +this and was proud.</p> + +<p>Jan tried the heavy oak door and it yielded, +and from the soft mildness of the spring evening, +so full of happy sounds of innocent life, she passed +into the grey and sacred silence of the church.</p> + +<p>It was cold in the beautiful old fourteenth-century +church, with that pervading smell of badly-burning +wood that is so often found in country +churches till all attempt at heating ceases for the +summer. But nothing could mar the nobility of +its austerely lovely architecture; the indefinable, +exquisite grace that soothes and penetrates.</p> + +<p>She went and knelt in the Wren's End pew +where Charles Considine Smith's vast prayer-book +still stood on the book-board. And even as +in the Bombay Cathedral she had prayed that +strength might be given to her to walk in the +Way, so now she prayed for courage and a quiet, +steadfast mind.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 217 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span></p><p>Her head was bowed and buried in her hands: +"<i>My heart shall not fear</i>," she whispered; but she +knew that it did fear, and fear grievously.</p> + +<p>The tense silence was broken by an odd, fitful, +pattering sound; but Jan, absorbed in her petition +for the courage she could not feel, heard nothing.</p> + +<p>Something clumsy, warm, and panting pushed +against her, and she uncovered her face and +looked down upon William trying to thrust his +head under her arm and join in her devotions.</p> + +<p>And William became a misty blur, for her +eyes filled with tears; he looked so anxious and +foolish and kind with his tongue hanging out and +his absurd, puzzled expression.</p> + +<p>He was puzzled. Part of the usual ritual had +been omitted.</p> + +<p>She ought, by all known precedents, to have +put her arm round his neck and have admonished +him to "pray for his Master." But she did +nothing of the kind, only patted him, with no +sort of invitation to join in her orisons.</p> + +<p>William was sure something was wrong somewhere.</p> + +<p>Then Jan saw Tony sitting at the far end of +the seat, hatless, coatless, in his indoor strap +shoes; and he was regarding her with grave, understanding +eyes.</p> + +<p>In a moment she was back in the present and +vividly alive to the fact that here was chilly, +delicate Tony out after tea, without a coat and +sitting in an ice-cold church.</p> + +<p>She rose from her knees, much to William's +satisfaction, who did not care for religious ser<!-- Page 218 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span>vices +in which he might not take an active part. +He trotted out of the pew and Jan followed him, +stooping to kiss Tony as she passed.</p> + +<p>"It's too cold for you here, dear," she whispered; +"let us come out."</p> + +<p>She held out her hand and Tony took it, and +together they passed down the aisle and into the +warmer air outside.</p> + +<p>"How did you know I was here?" she asked, +as they hurried into the road.</p> + +<p>"I saw you going down the drive from the +bathroom window, and so I runned after you, +and William came too."</p> + +<p>"But what made you come after me?"</p> + +<p>"Because I thought you looked frightened, and +I didn't like it; you looked like Mummy did +sometimes."</p> + +<p>No one who has seen fear stamped upon a +woman's face ever forgets it. Tony had watched +his aunt all tea-time, and this quite new expression +troubled him. Mummy had always seemed +to want him when she looked like that; perhaps +Auntie Jan would want him too. The moment +his hands were dried he had rushed past Meg and +down the stairs with William in his wake. Meg +had not tried to stop him, for she, too, realised +that something worried Jan, and she knew that +already there had arisen an almost unconscious +<i lang="fr">entente</i> between these two. But she had no idea +that he had gone out of doors. She dressed little +Fay and took her out to the garden, thinking +that Tony and Jan were probably in the nursery, +and she was careful not to disturb them.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 219 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span> +"Are you cold, Tony?" Jan asked anxiously, +walking so fast that Tony had almost to run to +keep up with her.</p> + +<p>"No, not very; it's a nice coldness rather, don't +you think?"</p> + +<p>"Tony, will you tell me—when Daddie was +angry with you, were you never frightened?"</p> + +<p>Tony pulled at her hand to make her go more +slowly. "Yes," he said, "I used to feel frightened +inside, but I wouldn't let him know it, and +then—it was funny—but quite sunn'ly I wasn't +frightened any more. You try it."</p> + +<p>"You mean," Jan asked earnestly, "that if +you don't let anyone else know you are frightened, +you cease to be frightened?"</p> + +<p>"Something like that," Tony said; "it just +happens."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 220 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER XVIII<br /> +<span class="sub">MEG AND CAPTAIN MIDDLETON</span></h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">M</span>EG had worked hard and faithfully ever +since Ayah left. Very soon after she took +over the children entirely she discovered that, +however naughty and tiresome they were in many +respects, they were quick-witted and easily interested. +And she decided there and then that +to keep them good she must keep them well +amused, and it acted like a charm.</p> + +<p>She had the somewhat rare power of surrounding +quite ordinary everyday proceedings with a +halo of romance, so that the children's day developed +into a series of entrancing adventures.</p> + +<p>With Meg, enthusiastic make-believe had never +wholly given place to common sense. Throughout +the long, hard days of her childhood and +early apprenticeship to a rather unkindly world +she had pretended joyously, and invented for +herself all sorts of imaginary pleasures to take +the place of those tangible ones denied to her. +She had kept the width and wistfulness of the +child's horizon with a good deal of the child's +finality and love of detail; so that she was as +responsive to the drama of common things as +the children themselves.</p> + +<p>Thus it came about that the daily donning of +the uniform was in very truth symbolic and in<!-- Page 221 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span>spiring; +and once the muslin cap was adjusted, +she felt herself magically surrounded by the atmosphere +most conducive to the production of +the Perfect Nurse.</p> + +<p>For Tony and little Fay getting up and going +to bed resolved themselves into feats of delicious +dexterity that custom could not stale. The underneaths +of tables were caves and dungeons, +chairs became chariots at will, and every night +little Fay waved a diminutive pocket-handkerchief +to Tony from the deck of an ocean-going +P. and O.</p> + +<p>The daily walks, especially since they came to +Wren's End, were filled with hopeful possibilities. +And to hunt for eggs with Mrs. Earley, or gather +vegetables with her son, partook of the nature +of a high and solemn quest. It was here Meg +showed real genius. She drew all the household +into her net of interest. The children poked their +busy fingers into everybody's pies, and even stern +Hannah was compelled, quite unconsciously, to +contribute her share in the opulent happiness of +their little world.</p> + +<p>But it took it out of Meg.</p> + +<p>For weeks she had been on the alert to prevent +storms and tempests. Now that the children's +barometer seemed at "set fair" she suddenly +felt very tired.</p> + +<p>Jan had been watching her, and on that particular +Sunday, had she been able to catch Meg +before she got up, Jan would have dressed the +children and kept her in bed. But Meg was too +nimble for her, washed and dressed her charges,<!-- Page 222 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span> +and appeared at breakfast looking a "wispy +wraith."</p> + +<p>She had slept badly; a habit formed in her +under-nourished youth which she found hard to +break; and she had, in consequence, been sitting +up in bed at five in the morning to make buttonholes +in garden smocks for Tony.</p> + +<p>This would have enraged Jan had she but +known it. But Meg, frank and honest as the +day in most things, was, at times, curiously secretive; +and so far had entirely eluded Jan's vigilance. +By the time Anne Chitt came with the +awakening tea there wasn't a vestige of smock, +needles, or cotton to be seen, and so far lynx-eyed +little Fay had never awoke in time to catch her +at it.</p> + +<p>This morning, however, Jan exerted her authority. +She slung the hammock between two +trees in the sunniest part of the garden; she +wrapped Meg in her own fur coat, which was far +too big for Meg; covered her with a particularly +soft, warm rug, gave her a book, a sun-umbrella, +and her cigarette case; and forbade her to move +till lunch-time unless it rained.</p> + +<p>Then she took the two children and William +into Squire Walcote's woods for the morning and +Meg fell fast asleep.</p> + +<p>Warm with the double glow that came from +being wrapped in Jan's coat because Jan loved +her; lulled by the songs of birds and a soft, shy +wind that ruffled the short hair about her forehead, +little Meg was supremely happy. To be +tired, to be made to rest, to be kissed and tucked<!-- Page 223 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span> +in and sternly commanded to stay where she was +till she was fetched—all this, so commonplace to +cherished, cared-for folk, seemed quite wonderful +to Meg, and she snuggled down among the +cushions in blissful content.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, on that same Sunday morning, +Captain Middleton, at Amber Guiting Manor, +was trying to screw his courage up to the announcement +that he did not intend to accompany +his aunt and uncle to church. Lady Mary Walcote +was his mother's only sister, and Mrs. Walcote, +wife of Jan's tenant, was one of his father's, +so that he spoke quite truly when he told Meg he +had "stacks of relations down at Amber Guiting."</p> + +<p>Colonel Walcote was much better off than his +elder brother, the squire of Amber Guiting, for +he benefited by the Middleton money.</p> + +<p>Miles Middleton's father was the originator of +"Middleton's Made Starch," which was used +everywhere and was supposed to be superior to +all other starches. Why "Made" scoffers could +never understand, for it required precisely the +same treatment as other starches. But the British +Public believed in it, the British Public also +bought it in large quantities, and George Middleton, +son of Mutton-Pie Middleton, a well-to-do +confectioner in Doncaster, became an exceedingly +rich man. He did not marry till he was forty, +and then he married "family," for Lady Agnes +Keills, younger daughter of Lord Glencarse, had +a long pedigree and no dower at all. She was a +good wife to him, gentle, upright, and always +affectionate. She adored their only child, Miles,<!-- Page 224 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span> +and died quite suddenly from heart failure, just +after that cheerful youth had joined at Woolwich. +George Middleton died some three years +later, leaving his money absolutely to his son, +who came of age at twenty-five. And, so far, +Miles had justified his father's faith in him, for +he had never done anything very foolish, and a +certain strain of Yorkshire shrewdness prevented +him from committing any wild extravagance.</p> + +<p>He was generous, kindly, and keen on his profession, +and he had reached the age of thirty-two +without ever having felt any overwhelming desire +to marry; though it was pretty well known +that considerable efforts to marry him suitably +had been made by both mothers and daughters.</p> + +<p>The beautiful and level-headed young ladies of +musical comedy had failed to land this considerable +fish, angled they never so skilfully; though +he frankly enjoyed their amusing society and was +quite liberal, though not lavish, in the way of +presents.</p> + +<p>Young women of his own rank were pleasant to +him, their mothers cordial, and no difficulty was +ever put in the way of his enjoying their society. +But he was not very susceptible. Deep in his +heart, in some dim, unacknowledged corner, there +lay a humble, homely desire that he might <em>feel</em> a +great deal more strongly than he had felt yet, +when the time and the woman came to him.</p> + +<p>Never, until Meg smiled at him when he offered +to carry little Fay up that long staircase, had the +thought of a girl thoroughly obsessed him; and it +is possible that even after their meetings in Ken<!-- Page 225 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span>sington +Gardens her image might gradually have +faded from his mind, had it not occurred to Mrs. +Trent to interfere.</p> + +<p>He had seen a good deal of the Trents while +hunting with the Pytchley two winters ago. +Lotty was a fearless rider and what men called "a +real good sort." At one time it had sometimes +crossed Captain Middleton's mind that Lotty +wouldn't make half a bad wife for a Horse Gunner, +but somehow it had always stopped at the +idea, and when he didn't see Lotty he never +thought about her at all.</p> + +<p>Now that he no longer saw Meg he thought +about her all day and far into the night. His +sensations were so new, so disturbing and unpleasant, +his life was so disorganised and upset, +that he asked himself in varying degrees of ever-accumulating +irritation: "What the deuce was +the matter?"</p> + +<p>Then Mrs. Trent asked him to luncheon.</p> + +<p>She was staying with her daughters at the +Kensington Palace Hotel, and they had a suite +of rooms. Lotty and her sister flew away before +coffee was served, as they were going to a <i lang="fr">matinée</i>, +and Miles was left <i lang="fr">tête-à-tête</i> with Mrs. Trent.</p> + +<p>She was most motherly and kind.</p> + +<p>Just as he was wondering whether he might +now decently take leave of her, she said: "Captain +Middleton, I'm going to take a great liberty +and venture to say something to you that perhaps +you will resent ... but I feel I must do it +because your mother was such a dear friend of +mine."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 226 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span> +This was a piece of information for Miles, who +knew perfectly well that Lady Agnes Middleton's +acquaintance with Mrs. Trent had been of the +slightest. However, he bowed and looked expectant.</p> + +<p>"I saw you the other day walking with Miss +Morton in Kensington Gardens; apparently she is +now in charge of somebody's children. May I +ask if you have known her long?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Trent looked searchingly at Miles, and +there was an inflection on the "long" that he felt +was in some way insulting to Meg, and he stiffened +all over.</p> + +<p>"Before I answer that question, Mrs. Trent, +may I ask why you should want to know?"</p> + +<p>"My dear boy, I see perfectly well that it must +seem impertinent curiosity on my part. But I +assure you my motive for asking is quite justifiable. +Will you try not to feel irritated and believe +that what I am doing, I am doing for the +best?"</p> + +<p>"I have not known Miss Morton very long; +why?"</p> + +<p>"Do you know the people she is living with at +present?"</p> + +<p>Again that curious inflection on the "present."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, and so do my people; they think all +the world of her."</p> + +<p>"Of Miss Morton?" Shocked astonishment +was in Mrs. Trent's voice.</p> + +<p>"I was not speaking of Miss Morton just then, +but of the lady she is with. I've no doubt, +though," said Miles stoutly, "they'd think just<!-- Page 227 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span> +the same of Miss Morton if they knew her. They +may know her, too; it's just a chance we've never +discussed her."</p> + +<p>"It is very difficult and painful for me to say +what I have got to say ... but if Miss Morton +is in charge of the children of a friend of your +family, I think you ought to know she is not a +suitable person to be anything of the kind."</p> + +<p>"I say!" Miles exclaimed, "that's a pretty +stiff thing to say about any girl; a dangerous +thing to say; especially about one who seems to +need to earn her own living."</p> + +<p>"I know it is; I hate to say it ... but it +seemed to me the other day—I hope I was mistaken—that +you were rather ... attracted, and +knowing what I do I felt I must speak, must warn +you."</p> + +<p>Miles got up. He seemed to tower above the +table and dwarf the whole room. "I'd rather +not hear any more, Mrs. Trent, please. It seems +too beastly mean somehow for me to sit here and +listen to scandal about a poor little unprotected +girl who works hard and faithfully—mind you, +I've seen her with those children, and she's perfectly +wonderful. Don't you see yourself how I +can't <em>do</em> it?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Trent sat on where she was and smiled at +Miles, slowly shaking her head. "Sit down, my +dear boy. Your feelings do you credit; but we +mustn't be sentimental, and facts are facts. I +have every reason to know what I'm talking +about, for some years ago Miss Morton was in +my service."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 228 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span> +Miles did not sit down. He stood where he +was, glowering down at Mrs. Trent.</p> + +<p>"That doesn't brand her, does it?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Still smiling maternally at him, Mrs. Trent +continued: "She left my service when she ran +away with Mr. Walter Brooke—you know him, I +think? Disgraceful though it was, I must say +this of him, that he never made any concealment +of the fact that he was a married man. She did +it with her eyes open."</p> + +<p>"If," Miles growled, "all this happened 'some +years ago' she must have been about twelve at +the time, and Brooke ought to have been hounded +out of society long ago."</p> + +<p>"I needn't say that <em>we</em> have cut him ever since. +She was, I believe, about nineteen at the time. +She did not remain with him, but you can understand +that, naturally, I don't want <em>you</em> to get +entangled with a girl of that sort."</p> + +<p>Miles picked up his hat and stick. "I wish you +hadn't told me," he groaned. "I don't think a +bit less highly of her, but you've made <em>me</em> feel +such a low-down brute, I can't bear it. Good-bye—I've +no doubt you did it for the best ... +but——" And Miles fairly ran from the room.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Trent drummed with her fingers on the +table and looked thoughtful. "It was quite time +somebody interfered," she reflected. And then +she remembered with annoyance that she had +not found out the name of Meg's employer.</p> + +<p>Miles strode through Kensington Gore and past +Knightsbridge, when he turned down Sloane +Street till he came to a fencing school he fre<!-- Page 229 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span>quented. +Here he went in and had a strenuous +half-hour with the instructor, but nothing served +to restore his peace of mind. He was angry and +hurt and horribly worried. If it was true, if the +whole miserable story was true, then he knew +that something had been taken from him. Something +he had cherished in that dim, secret corner +of his heart. Its truth or untruth did not affect +his feeling for Meg. But if it were true, then he +had irretrievably lost something intangible, yet +precious. Young men like Miles never mention +ideals, but that's not to say that in some very +hidden place they don't exist, like buried treasure.</p> + +<p>All the shrewd Yorkshire strain in him shouted +that he must set this doubt at rest. That whatever +was to be his action in the future he must +know and face the truth. All the delicacy, the +fine feeling, the sensitiveness he got from his +mother, made him loathe any investigation of +the kind, and his racial instincts battled together +and made him very miserable indeed.</p> + +<p>When he left the fencing school, he turned into +Hyde Park. The Row was beginning to fill, and +suddenly he came upon his second cousin, Lady +Penelope Pottinger, sitting all alone on a green +chair with another empty one beside it. Miles +dropped into the empty chair. He liked Lady +Pen. She was always downright and sometimes +very amusing. Moreover she took an intelligent +interest in dogs, and knew Amber Guiting and its +inhabitants. So Miles dexterously led the conversation +round to Jan and Wren's End.</p> + +<p>Lady Pen was looking very beautiful that<!-- Page 230 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span> +afternoon. She wore a broad-leaved hat which +did not wholly conceal her glorious hair. Hair +the same colour as certain short feathery rings +that framed a pale, pathetic little face that +haunted him.</p> + +<p>"Talking of Amber Guiting," he said, "did +you ever come across a Miss Morton down there? +A friend of Miss Ross."</p> + +<p>Lady Pen turned and looked hard at him. "Oh +dear, yes; she's rather a pal of mine. I knew her +long before I met her at the Ross's. Why, I +knew her when she was companion at the Trents, +poor little devil."</p> + +<p>"Did she have a bad time there? Weren't +they nice to her?"</p> + +<p>"At first they were nice enough, but afterwards +it was rotten. Clever little thing she is, +but poor as a rat. What do you know about +her?"</p> + +<p>Again Lady Pen looked hard at Miles. She +was wondering whether Meg had ever given +away the reason for that short hair of hers.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I've met her just casually, you know, +with Miss Ross. She strikes me as a ... rather +unusual sort of girl."</p> + +<p>"Ever mention me?"</p> + +<p>"No, never that I can remember. I haven't +seen much of her, you know."</p> + +<p>"Well, my son, the less you see of her the better, +for her, I should say. She's a clever, industrious, +good little thing, but she's not in your +row. After all, these workin' girls have their +feelin's."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 231 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span> +"I don't fancy Miss Morton is at all the susceptible +idiot you appear to think her. It's other +people's feelings I should be afraid of, not hers."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I grant you she's attractive enough to +some folks. Artists, for instance, rave over her. +At least, Anthony Ross did. Queer chap, that; +would never paint me. Now can you understand +any man in his senses refusin' to paint me?"</p> + +<p>"It seems odd, certainly."</p> + +<p>"He painted her, for nothin' of course, over +an' over again ... just because he liked doin' +it. Odd chap he was, but very takin'. You +couldn't dislike him, even when he refused to +paint you. Awful swank though, wasn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Were his pictures of Miss Morton—sold?"</p> + +<p>"Some were, I believe; but Janet Ross has got +a lot of 'em down at Wren's End. She always +puts away most of her father's paintin's when +she lets the house. But you take my advice, +Miley, my son: you keep clear of that little +girl."</p> + +<p>This was on Thursday, and, of course, after +two warnings in one afternoon, Miles went down +to Amber Guiting on Saturday night.</p> + +<p>"Aunt Mary, it's such a lovely morning, should +you mind very much if I go for a stroll in the +woods—or slack about in the fresh air, instead of +going to church?"</p> + +<p>At the word "stroll" he had seen an interested +expression lighten up Squire Walcote's face, and +the last thing he wanted was his uncle's society +for the whole morning.</p> + +<p>"I don't feel up to much exercise," Miles went<!-- Page 232 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span> +on, trying to look exhausted and failing egregiously. +"I've had rather a hard week in town. +I'll give the vicar a turn in the evening, I will +truly."</p> + +<p>Lady Mary smiled indulgently on this large +young man, who certainly looked far from delicate. +But only a hard-hearted woman could +have pointed this out at such a moment, and +where her nephew was concerned Lady Mary's +heart was all kindly affection. So she let him off +church.</p> + +<p>Miles carried out a pile of books to a seat in +the garden and appeared to be settled down to +a studious morning. He waved a languid hand +to his aunt and uncle as they started for church, +and the moment they were out of sight laid down +his book and clasped his hands behind his head.</p> + +<p>The vicar of Amber Guiting was a family man +and merciful. The school children all creaked +and pattered out of church after morning prayer, +and any other small people in the congregation +were encouraged to do likewise, the well-filled +vicarage pew setting the example. Therefore, +Miles reckoned, that even supposing Miss Morton +took the little boy to church (he couldn't conceive +of anyone having the temerity to escort +little Fay thither), they would come out in about +three-quarters of an hour after the bell stopped. +But he had no intention of waiting for that. The +moment the bell ceased he—unaccompanied by +any of the dogs grouped about him at that moment—was +going to investigate the Wren's End +garden. He knew every corner of it, and he in<!-- Page 233 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span>tended +to unearth Meg and the children if they +were to be found.</p> + +<p>Besides, he ardently desired to see William.</p> + +<p>William was a lawful pretext. No one could +see anything odd in his calling at Wren's End to +see William. It was a perfectly natural thing +to do.</p> + +<p>Confound Mrs. Trent.</p> + +<p>Confound Pen, what did she want to interfere +for?</p> + +<p>Confound that bell. Would it never stop?</p> + +<p>Yes it had. No it hadn't. Yes ... it had.</p> + +<p>Give a few more minutes for laggards, and +then——</p> + +<p>Three melancholy and disappointed dogs were +left in the Manor Garden, while Miles swung +down the drive, past the church, and into the +road that led to Wren's End.</p> + +<p>What a morning it was!</p> + +<p>The whole world seemed to have put on its +Sunday frock. There had been rain in the night, +and the air was full of the delicious fresh-washed +smell of spring herbage. Wren's End seemed +wonderfully quiet and deserted as Miles turned +into the drive. As he neared the house he paused +and listened, but there was no sound of high little +voices anywhere.</p> + +<p>Were they at church, then?</p> + +<p>They couldn't be indoors on such a beautiful +day.</p> + +<p>Miles whistled softly, knowing that if William +were anywhere within hearing, that would bring +him at the double.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 234 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span> +But no joyfully galumphing William appeared +to welcome him.</p> + +<p>He had no intention of ringing to inquire. No, +he'd take a good look round first, before he went +back to hang about outside the church.</p> + +<p>It was pleasant in the Wren's End garden.</p> + +<p>Presently he went down the broad central path +of the walled garden, with borders of flowers and +beds of vegetables. Half-way down, in the sunniest, +warmest place, he came upon a hammock +slung between an apple-tree not quite out and a +pear-tree that was nearly over, and a voice from +the hammock called sleepily: "Is that you, +Earley? I wish you'd pick up my cigarette case +for me; it's fallen into the lavender bush just +below."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Miss," a voice answered that was certainly +not Earley's.</p> + +<p>Meg leaned out of the hammock to look behind +her.</p> + +<p>"Hullo!" she said. "Why are you not in +church? I can't get up because I'm a prisoner +on <i lang="fr">parole</i>. Short of a thunderstorm nothing is +to move me from this hammock till Miss Ross +comes back."</p> + +<p>Miles stood in the pathway looking down at +the muffled figure in the hammock. There was +little to be seen of Meg save her rumpled, hatless +head. She was much too economical of her precious +caps to waste one in a hammock. She had +slept for nearly two hours, then Hannah roused +her with a cup of soup. She was drowsy and +warm and comfortable, and her usually pale<!-- Page 235 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span> +cheeks were almost as pink as the apple-blossom +buds above her head.</p> + +<p>"Do you want to sleep? Or may I stop and +talk to you a bit?" Miles asked, when he had +found the somewhat battered cigarette case and +restored it to her.</p> + +<p>"As I'm very plainly off duty, I suppose you +may stay and talk—if I fall asleep in the middle +you must not be offended. You'll find plenty of +chairs in the tool house."</p> + +<p>When Miles returned Meg had lit her cigarette, +and he begged a light from her.</p> + +<p>What little hands she had! How fine-grained +and delicate her skin!</p> + +<p>Again he felt that queer lump in his throat at +the absurd, sweet pathos of her.</p> + +<p>He placed his chair where he had her full in +view, not too near, yet comfortably so for conversation. +Jan had swung the hammock very +high, and Meg looked down at Miles over the +edge.</p> + +<p>"It is unusual," she said, "to find a competent +nurse spending her morning in this fashion, but +if you know Miss Ross at all, you will already +have realised that under her placid exterior she +has a will of iron."</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't say <em>you</em> were lacking in determination."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm nothing to Jan. <em>She</em> exerts physical +force. Look at me perched up here! How can I +get down without a bad fall, swathed like a +mummy in wraps; while my employer does my +work?"</p> + +<p><!-- Page 236 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span> +"But you don't want to get down. You look +awfully comfortable."</p> + +<p>"I am awfully comfortable—but it's most ... +unprofessional—please don't tell anybody else."</p> + +<p>Meg closed her eyes, looking rather like a +sleepy kitten, and Miles watched her in silence +with a pain at his heart. Something kept saying +over and over again: "Six years ago that girl +there ran off with Walter Brooke. Six years ago +that apparently level-headed, sensible little person +was dazzled by the pinchbeck graces of that +epicure in sensations." Miles fully granted his +charm, his gentle melancholy, his caressing manner; +but with it all Miles felt that he was so +plainly "a wrong-'un," so clearly second-rate and +untrustworthy—and a nice girl ought to recognise +these things intuitively.</p> + +<p>Miles looked very sad and grave, and Meg, +suddenly opening her eyes, found him regarding +her with this incomprehensible expression.</p> + +<p>"You are not exactly talkative," she said.</p> + +<p>"I thought, perhaps, you wanted to rest, and +would rather not talk. Maybe I'm a bit of a +bore, and you'd rather I went away?"</p> + +<p>"You have not yet asked after William."</p> + +<p>"I hoped to find William, but he's nowhere to +be seen."</p> + +<p>"He's with Jan and the children. I think"—here +Meg lifted her curly head over the edge of +the hammock—"he is the very darlingest animal +in the world. I love William."</p> + +<p>"You do! I knew you would."</p> + +<p>"I do. He's so faithful and kind and understanding."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 237 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span> +"Has he been quite good?"</p> + +<p>"Well ... once or twice he may have been a +little—destructive—but you expect that with +children."</p> + +<p>"I hope you punish him."</p> + +<p>"Jan does. Jan has a most effectual slap, but +there's always a dreadful disturbance with the +children on these occasions. Little Fay roars the +house down when William has to be chastised."</p> + +<p>"What has he done?"</p> + +<p>"I'm not going to tell tales of William."</p> + +<p>Miles and Meg smiled at one another, and +Walter Brooke faded from his mind.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," he said, and paused, "you will by +and by allow to William's late master a small +portion of that regard?"</p> + +<p>"If William's master on further acquaintance +proves half as loyal and trustworthy as William—I +couldn't help it."</p> + +<p>"I wonder what you mean exactly by loyal and +trustworthy?"</p> + +<p>"They're not very elastic terms, are they?"</p> + +<p>"Don't you think they mean rather the same +thing?"</p> + +<p>"Not a bit," Meg cried eagerly; "a person +might be ever so trustworthy and yet not loyal. +I take it that trustworthy and honest in tangible +things are much the same. Loyalty is something +intangible, and often means belief in people when +everything seems against them. It's a much +rarer quality than to be trustworthy. William +would stick to one if one hadn't a crust, just because +he liked to be there to make things a bit +less wretched."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 238 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span> +Miles smoked in silence for a minute, and +again Meg closed her eyes.</p> + +<p>"By the way," he said presently, "I didn't +know you and my cousin Pen were friends. I +met her in the Park the day before yesterday. +Her hair's rather the same colour as yours—handsome +woman, isn't she?"</p> + +<p>Meg opened her eyes and turned crimson. +Had the outspoken Lady Pen said anything +about her hair, she wondered.</p> + +<p>Miles, noting the sudden blush, put it down +to Lady Pen's knowledge of what had happened +at the Trents, and the miserable feelings of doubt +and apprehension came surging back.</p> + +<p>"She's quite lovely," said Meg.</p> + +<p>"A bit too much on the big side, don't you +think?"</p> + +<p>"I admire big women."</p> + +<p>Silence fell again. Meg pulled the rug up +under her chin.</p> + +<p>Surely it was not quite so warm as a few minutes +ago.</p> + +<p>Miles stood up. "I have a guilty feeling that +Miss Ross will strongly disapprove of my disturbing +you like this. If you will tell me which +way they have gone I will go and meet them."</p> + +<p>"They've gone to your uncle's woods, and I +think they must be on their way home by now. +If you call William he'll answer."</p> + +<p>"I won't say good-bye," said Miles, "because +I shall come back with them."</p> + +<p>"I shall be on duty then," said Meg. "Good-bye."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 239 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span> +She turned her face from him and nestled +down among her cushions. For a full minute he +stood staring at the back of her head, with its +crushed and tumbled tangle of short curls.</p> + +<p>Then quite silently he took his way out of the +Wren's End garden.</p> + +<p>Meg shut her eyes very tight. Was it the +light that made them smart so?</p> + +<p><!-- Page 240 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER XIX<br /> +<span class="sub">THE YOUNG IDEA</span></h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">S</span>QUIRE WALCOTE had given the Wren's +End family the run of his woods, and, what +was even more precious, permission to use the +river-path through his grounds. Lady Mary, +who had no children of her own, was immensely +interested in Tony and little Fay, and would +give Jan more advice as to their management in +an hour than the vicar's wife ever offered during +the whole of their acquaintance. But then <em>she</em> +had a family of eight.</p> + +<p>But the first time Tony went to the river Jan +took him alone; and not to the near water in +Squire Walcote's grounds, but to the old bridge +that crossed the Amber some way out of the village. +It was the typical Cotswold bridge, with +low parapets that make such a comfortable seat +for meditative villagers. Just before they reached +it she loosed Tony's hand, and held her breath to +see what he would do. Would he run straight +across to get to the other side, or would he look +over?</p> + +<p>Yes. He went straight to the low wall; +stopped, looked over, leaned over, and stared +and stared.</p> + +<p>Jan gave a sigh of relief.</p> + +<p>The water of the Amber just there is deep and<!-- Page 241 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span> +clear, an infinite thing for a child to look down +into; but it was not of that Jan was thinking.</p> + +<p>Hugo was no fisherman. Water had no attraction +for him, save as a pleasant means of taking +exercise. He was a fair oar; but for a stream +that wouldn't float a boat he cared nothing at all.</p> + +<p>Charles Considine Smith had angled diligently. +In fact, he wrote almost as much about the habits +of trout as about wrens. James Ross, the gallant +who carried off the second Tranquil, had +been fishing at Amber Guiting when he first +saw her. Anthony's father fished and so did +Anthony; and Jan, herself, could throw a fly +quite prettily. Yet, your true fisherman is born, +not made; it is not a question of environment, +but it is, very often, one of heredity; for the tendency +comes out when, apparently, every adverse +circumstance has combined to crush it.</p> + +<p>And no mortal who cares for or is going to care +for fishing can ever cross a bridge without stopping +to look down into the water.</p> + +<p>"There's a fish swimming down there," Tony +whispered (was it instinct made him whisper? +Jan wondered), "brown and speckledy, rather +like the thrushes in the garden."</p> + +<p>Jan clutched nervously at the little coat while +Tony hung over so far that only his toes were on +the ground. She had brought a bit of bread in +her pocket, and let him throw bits to the greedy, +wily old trout who had defied a hundred skilful +rods. On that first day old Amber whispered +her secret to Tony and secured another slave.</p> + +<p>For Jan it was only another proof that Tony<!-- Page 242 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span> +possessed a sterling character. Since her sister's +disastrous marriage she had come to look upon a +taste for fishing as more or less of a moral safeguard. +She had often reflected that if only Fay +had not been so lukewarm with regard to the +gentle craft—and so bored in a heavenly place +where, if it did rain for twenty-three of the +twenty-four hours, even a second-rate rod might +land fourteen or fifteen pounds of good sea-trout +in an afternoon—she could never have +fallen in love with Hugo Tancred, who was equally +without enthusiasm and equally bored till he +met Fay. Jan was ready enough now to blame +herself for her absorption at this time, and would +remember guiltily the relief with which she and +her father greeted Fay's sudden willingness to +remain a week longer in a place she previously +had declared to be absolutely unendurable.</p> + +<p>The first time Tony's sister went to Amber +Bridge Meg took them both. Little Fay descended +from her pram just before they reached +it, declaring it was a "nice dly place to walk." +She ran on a little ahead, and before Meg realised +what she was doing, she had scrambled up on +to the top of the low wall and run briskly along +it till her progress was stopped by a man who +was leaning over immersed in thought. He +nearly fell in himself, when a clear little voice +inquired, "Do loo mind if I climb over loo?"</p> + +<p>It was Farmer Burgess, and he clasped the +tripping lady of the white woolly gaiters in a +pair of strong arms, and lifted her down just as +the terrified Meg reached them.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 243 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span> +"Law, Missie!" gasped Mr. Burgess, "you +mustn't do the like o' that there. It's downright +fool'ardy."</p> + +<p>"Downlight foolardy," echoed little Fay. "And +what nelse?"</p> + +<p>According to Mr. Burgess it was dangerous +and a great many other things as well, but he +lost his heart to her in that moment, and she +could twist him round her little finger ever after.</p> + +<p>To be told that a thing was dangerous was to +add to its attractions. She was absolutely without +fear, and could climb like a kitten. She +hadn't been at Wren's End a week before she was +discovered half-way up the staircase on the outside +of the banisters. And when she had been +caught and lifted over by a white-faced aunt, +explained that it was "muts the most instasting +way of going up tairs."</p> + +<p>When asked how she expected to get to the +other side at the top, she giggled derisively and +said "ovel."</p> + +<p>Jan seriously considered a barbed-wire entanglement +for the outside edge of her staircase after +that.</p> + +<p>While Meg rested in the hammock Jan spent a +strenuous morning in Guiting Woods with the +children and William. Late windflowers were +still in bloom, and early bluebells made lovely +atmospheric patches under the trees, just as +though a bit of the sky had fallen, as in the oft-told +tale of "Cockie Lockie." There were primroses, +too, and white violets, so that there were +many little bunches with exceedingly short stalks<!-- Page 244 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span> +to be arranged and tied up with the worsted provident +Auntie Jan had brought with her; finally +they all sat down on a rug lined with mackintosh, +and little Fay demanded "Clipture."</p> + +<p>"Clipture" was her form of "Scripture," which +Auntie Jan "told" every morning after breakfast +to the children. Jan was a satisfactory narrator, +for the form of her stories never varied. The +Bible stories she told in the actual Bible words, +and all children appreciate their dramatic simplicity +and directness.</p> + +<p>That morning Joseph and his early adventures +and the baby Moses were the favourites, and +when these had been followed by "The Three +Bears" and "Cock Robin," it was time to collect +the bouquets and go home. And on the way +home they met Captain Middleton. William +spied him afar off, and dashed towards him with +joyful, deep-toned barks. He was delighted to +see William, said he had grown and was in the +pink of condition; and then announced that he +had already been to Wren's End and had seen +Miss Morton. There was something in the tone +of this avowal that made Jan think. It was +shy, it was proud, it seemed to challenge Jan to +find any fault in his having done so, and it was +supremely self-conscious. He walked back with +them to the Wren's End gate, and then came a +moment of trial for William.</p> + +<p>He wanted to go with his master.</p> + +<p>He wanted to stay with the children.</p> + +<p>Captain Middleton settled it by shaking each +offered paw and saying very seriously: "You<!-- Page 245 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span> +must stay and take care of the ladies, William. +I trust you." William looked wistfully after the +tall figure that went down the road with the +queer, light, jumpetty tread of all men who ride +much.</p> + +<p>Then he trotted after Jan and the children and +was exuberantly glad to see Meg again.</p> + +<p>She declared herself quite rested; heard that +they had seen Captain Middleton, and met unmoved +the statement that he was coming to tea.</p> + +<p>But she didn't look nearly so well rested as +Jan had hoped she would.</p> + +<p>After the children's dinner Meg went on duty, +and Jan saw no more of the nursery party till +later in the afternoon. The creaking wheels of +two small wheelbarrows made Jan look up from +the letters she was writing at the knee-hole table +that stood in the nursery window, and she beheld +little Fay and Tony, followed by Meg knitting +busily, as they came through the yew archway +on to the lawn.</p> + +<p>Meg subsided into one of the white seats, but +the children processed solemnly round, pausing +under Jan's window.</p> + +<p>"I know lots an' lots of Clipture," her niece's +voice proclaimed proudly as she sat down heavily +in her wheelbarrow on the top of some garden +produce she had collected.</p> + +<p>"How much do you know?" Tony asked sceptically.</p> + +<p>"Oh, lots an' lots, all about poor little Jophez +in the bullushes, and his instasting dleams."</p> + +<p>"Twasn't Jophez," Tony corrected. "It was<!-- Page 246 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span> +Mophez in the bulrushes, and he didn't have no +dreams. That was Jophez."</p> + +<p>"How d'you know," Fay persisted, "that poor +little Mophez had no dleams? Why <em>shouldn't</em> he +have dleams same as Jophez?"</p> + +<p>"It doesn't say so."</p> + +<p>"It doesn't say he <em>didn't</em> have dleams. He +<em>had</em> dleams, I tell you; I know he had. Muts +nicer dleams van Jophez."</p> + +<p>"Let's ask Meg; she'll know."</p> + +<p>Jan gave a sigh of relief. The children had +not noticed her, and Meg had a fertile mind.</p> + +<p>The wheelbarrows were trundled across the +lawn and paused in front of Meg, while a lively +duet demanded simultaneously:</p> + +<table class="duet"> +<tr><td rowspan="2" class="lg">{</td><td>"<em>Did</em> little Mophez have dleams?"</td></tr> +<tr><td>"<em>Didn't</em> deah littoo Mophez have dleams?"</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>When Meg had disentangled the questions and +each child sat down in a wheelbarrow at her +feet, she remarked judicially: "Well, there's +nothing said about little Moses' dreams, certainly; +but I should think it's quite likely the +poor baby did have dreams."</p> + +<p>"What sort of dleams? Nicer van sheaves +and sings, wasn't they?"</p> + +<p>"I should think," Meg said thoughtfully, +"that he dreamed he must cry very quietly lest +the Egyptians should hear him."</p> + +<p>"Deah littoo Mophez ... and what nelse?"</p> + +<p>Meg was tempted and fell. It was very easy +for her to invent "dleams" for "deah littoo +Mophez" lying in his bulrush ark among the +flags at the river's edge. And, wholly regardless<!-- Page 247 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span> +of geography, she transported him to the Amber, +where the flags were almost in bloom at that +moment, such local colour adding much to the +realism of her stories.</p> + +<p>Presently William grew restless. He ran to +Anthony's Venetian gate in the yew hedge and +squealed (William never whined) to get out. +Tony let him out, and he fled down the drive to +meet his master, who had come a good half-hour +too soon for tea.</p> + +<p>Jan continued to try and finish her letters +while Captain Middleton, coatless, on all-fours, +enacted an elephant which the children rode in +turn. When he had completely ruined the knees +of his trousers he arose and declared it was time +to play "Here we go round the mulberry-bush," +and it so happened that once or twice he played +it hand-in-hand with Meg.</p> + +<p>Jan left her letters and went out.</p> + +<p>The situation puzzled her. She feared for +Meg's peace of mind, for Captain Middleton +was undoubtedly attractive; and then she found +herself fearing for his.</p> + +<p>After tea and more games with the children +Captain Middleton escorted his hostess to church, +where he joined his aunt in the Manor seat.</p> + +<p>During church Jan found herself wondering +uneasily:</p> + +<p>"Was everybody going to fall in love with +Meg?"</p> + +<p>"Would Peter?"</p> + +<p>"What a disagreeable idea!"</p> + +<p>And yet, why should it be?</p> + +<p><!-- Page 248 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span> +Resolutely she told herself that Peter was at +perfect liberty to fall in love with Meg if he liked, +and set herself to listen intelligently to the Vicar's +sermon.</p> + +<hr class="space" /> + +<p>Meg started to put her children to bed, only +to find that her fertility of imagination in the +afternoon was to prove her undoing in the evening; +for her memory was by no means as reliable +as her powers of invention.</p> + +<p>Little Fay urgently demanded the whole cycle +of little Mophez' dleams over again. And for +the life of her Meg couldn't remember them +either in their proper substance or sequence—and +this in spite of the most persistent prompting, +and she failed utterly to reproduce the entertainment +of the afternoon. Both children were +disappointed, but little Fay, accustomed as she +was to Auntie Jan's undeviating method of +narrating "Clipture," was angry as well. She +fell into a passion of rage and nearly screamed +the house down. Since the night of Ayah's departure +there had not been such a scene.</p> + +<p>Poor Meg vowed (though she knew she would +break her vow the very first time she was +tempted) that never again would she tamper +with Holy Writ, and for some weeks she coldly +avoided both Jophez and Mophez as topics of +conversation.</p> + +<p>Meg could never resist playing at things, +and what "Clipture" the children learned from +Jan in the morning they insisted on enacting with +Meg later in the day.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 249 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span> +Sometimes she was seized with misgiving as +to the propriety of these representations, but +dismissed her doubts as cowardly.</p> + +<p>"After all," she explained to Jan, "we only +play the very human bits. I never let them +pretend to be anybody divine ... and you +know the people—in the Old Testament, anyway—were +most of them extremely human, +not to say disreputable at times."</p> + +<p>It is possible that "Clipture's" supreme attraction +for the children was that it conveyed +the atmosphere of the familiar East. The New +Testament was more difficult to play at, but, +being equally dramatic, the children couldn't +see it.</p> + +<p>"Can't we do one teeny miracle?" Tony would +beseech, but Meg was firm; she would have +nothing to do with either miracles nor yet with +angels. Little Fay ardently desired to be an +angel, but Meg wouldn't have it at any price.</p> + +<p>"You're not in the least <em>like</em> an angel, you +know," she said severely.</p> + +<p>"What for?"</p> + +<p>"Because angels are <em>perfectly</em> good."</p> + +<p>"I could <em>pletend</em> to be puffectly good."</p> + +<p>"Let's play Johnny Baptist," suggested the +ever-helpful Tony, "and we could pittend to +bring in his head on a charger."</p> + +<p>"Certainly not," Meg said hastily. "That +would be a horrid game."</p> + +<p>"Let me be the daughter!" little Fay implored, +"and dance in flont of Helod."</p> + +<p>This was permitted, and Tony, decorated<!-- Page 250 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span> +with William's chain, sat gloomily scowling at +the gyrations of "the daughter," who, assisted +by William, danced all over the nursery: and +Meg, watching the representation, decided that +if the original "daughter" was half as bewitching +as this one, there really might have been +some faint excuse for Herod.</p> + +<p>Hannah had no idea of these goings-on, or +she would have expected the roof to fall in and +crush them. Yet she, too, was included among +the children's prophets, owing to her exact and +thorough knowledge of "Clipture." Hannah's +favourite part of the Bible was the Book of +Daniel, which she knew practically by heart; +and her rendering of certain chapters was—though +she would have hotly resented the phrase—extremely +dramatic.</p> + +<p>It is so safe and satisfying to know that your +favourite story will run smoothly, clause for +clause, and word for word, just as you like it +best, and the children were always sure of this +with Hannah.</p> + +<p>Anne Chitt would listen open-mouthed in +astonishment, exclaiming afterwards, "Why, +'Annah, wot a tremenjous lot of Bible verses +you 'ave learned to be sure."</p> + +<p>The children once tried Anne Chitt as a storyteller, +but she was a failure.</p> + +<p>As she had been present at several of Hannah's +recitals of the Three Children and the burning +fiery furnace, they thought it but a modest demand +upon her powers. But when—instead of +beginning with the sonorous "<i>Then an herald<!-- Page 251 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span> +cried aloud, To you it is commanded, O people, +nations and languages</i>"—when she wholly omitted +any reference to "<i>the sound of cornet, flute, harp, +sackbut, psaltery, and dulcimer</i>, and all kinds of +musick"—and essayed to tell the story in broad +Gloucestershire and her own bald words, the +disappointed children fell upon her and thumped +her rudely upon the back; declaring her story +to be "<i>kutcha</i>" and she, herself, a <i>budmash</i>. +Which, being interpreted, meant that her story +was most badly made and that she, herself, was +a rascal.</p> + +<p>Anne Chitt was much offended, and complained +tearfully to Jan that she "wouldn't 'ave said +nothin' if they'd called 'er or'nery names, but +them there Injian words was more than she +could abear."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 252 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER XX<br /> +<span class="sub">"ONE WAY OF LOVE"</span></h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">A</span>MONG the neighbours there was none +more assiduous in the matter of calls and +other friendly manifestations than Mr. Huntly +Withells—emphasis on the "ells"—who lived at +Guiting Grange, about a couple of miles from +Wren's End. Mr. Withells was settled at the +Grange some years before Miss Janet Ross left +her house to Jan, and he was already a person +of importance and influence in that part of the +county when Anthony Ross and his daughters +first spent a whole summer there.</p> + +<p>Mr. Withells proved most neighbourly. He +had artistic leanings himself, and possessed some +good pictures; among them, one of Anthony's, +which naturally proved a bond of union. He did +not even so much as sketch, himself—which +Anthony considered another point in his favour—but +he was a really skilled photographer, +possessed the most elaborate cameras, and obtained +quite beautiful results.</p> + +<p>Since Jan's return from India he had completely +won her heart by taking a great many +photographs of the children, pictures delightfully +natural, and finished as few amateurs contrive +to present them.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 253 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span> +It was rumoured in Amber Guiting that Mr. +Withells' views on the subject of matrimony +were "peculiar"; but all the ladies, especially +the elderly ladies, were unanimous in declaring +that he had a "beautiful mind."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Fream, the vicar's wife, timidly confided +to Jan that Mr. Withells had told her husband +that he cared only for "spiritual marriage"—whatever +that might be; and that, as yet, he +had met no woman whom he felt would see eye +to eye with him on this question. "He doesn't +approve of caresses," she added.</p> + +<p>"Well, who wants to caress him?" Jan asked +bluntly.</p> + +<p>Meg declared there was one thing she could +not bear about Mr. Withells, and that was the +way he shook hands, "exactly as if he had no +thumbs. If he's so afraid of touching one as +all that comes to, why doesn't he let it alone?"</p> + +<p>Yet the apparently thumbless hands were +constantly occupied in bearing gifts of all kinds +to his friends.</p> + +<p>In appearance he was dapper, smallish, without +being undersized, always immaculately neat +in his attire, with a clean-shaven, serious, rather +sallow face, which was inclined to be chubby as +to the cheeks. He wore double-sighted pince-nez, +and no mortal had ever seen him without +them. His favourite writer was Miss Jane Austen, +and he deplored the licentious tendency of +so much modern literature; frequently, and with +flushed countenance, denouncing certain books +as an "outrage." He was considered a very<!-- Page 254 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span> +well-read man. He disliked anything that was +"not quite nice," and detested a strong light, +whether it were thrown upon life or landscape; +in bright sunshine he always carried a white +umbrella lined with green. The game he played +best was croquet, and here he was really first +class; but he was also skilled in every known +form of Patience, and played each evening unless +he happened to be dining out.</p> + +<p>As regards food he was something of a faddist, +and on the subject of fresh air almost a monomaniac. +He declared that he could not exist +for ten minutes in a room with closed windows, +and that the smell of apples made him feel positively +faint; moreover, he would mention his +somewhat numerous antipathies as though there +were something peculiarly meritorious in possessing +so many. This made his entertainment +at any meal a matter of agitated consideration +among the ladies of Amber Guiting.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, he kept an excellent and hospitable +table himself, and in no way forced his +own taste upon others. He disliked the smell +of tobacco and hardly ever drank wine, yet he +kept a stock of excellent cigars and his cellar +was beyond reproach.</p> + +<p>He had been observing Jan for several years, +and was rapidly coming to the conclusion that +she was an "eminently sensible woman." Her +grey hair and the way she had managed everything +for her father led him to believe that she +was many years older than her real age. Recently +he had taken to come to Wren's End on<!-- Page 255 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span> +one pretext and another almost every day. He +was kind and pleasant to the children, who +amused and pleased him—especially little Fay; +but he was much puzzled by Meg, whom he had +known in pre-cap-and-apron days while she was +staying at Wren's End.</p> + +<p>He couldn't quite place Meg, and there was +an occasional glint in her queer eyes that he +found disconcerting. He was never comfortable +in her society, for he objected to red hair almost +as strongly as to a smell of apples.</p> + +<p>He really liked the children, and since he +knew he couldn't get Jan without them he was +beginning to think that in such a big house as +the Grange they would not necessarily be much +in the way. He knew nothing whatever about +Hugo Tancred.</p> + +<p>Jan satisfied his fastidious requirements. She +was dignified, graceful, and, he considered, of +admirable parts. He felt that in a very little +while he could imbue Jan with his own views as +to the limitations and delicate demarcations of +such a marriage as he contemplated.</p> + +<p>She was so sensible.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the object of these kind intentions +was wholly unaware of them. She was just then +very much absorbed in her own affairs and considerably +worried about Meg's. For Captain +Middleton's week-end was repeated on the following +Saturday and extended far into the next +week. He came constantly to Wren's End, +where the children positively adored him, and +he seemed to possess an infallible instinct which<!-- Page 256 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span> +led him to the village whensoever Meg and her +charges had business there.</p> + +<p>On such occasions Meg was often quite rude +to Captain Middleton, but the children and +William more than atoned for her coldness by +the warmth of their welcome, and he attached +himself to them.</p> + +<p>In fact, as regards the nursery party at Wren's +End, Miles strongly resembled William before a +fire—you might drive him away ninety and +nine times, he always came thrusting back with +the same expression of deprecating astonishment +that you could be other than delighted to +see him.</p> + +<p>Whither was it all tending? Jan wondered.</p> + +<p>No further news had come from Hugo; Peter, +she supposed, had sailed and was due in London +at the end of the week.</p> + +<p>Then Mr. Huntly Withells asked her one afternoon +to bicycle over to see his spring irises—he +called them "<i>irides</i>," and invariably spoke of +"<i>croci</i>," and "<i>delphinia</i>"—and as Meg was taking +the children to tea at the vicarage, Jan went.</p> + +<p>To her surprise, she found herself the sole +guest, but supposed she was rather early and +that his other friends hadn't come yet.</p> + +<p>They strolled about the gardens, so lovely in +their spring blossoming, and it happened that +from one particular place they got a specially +good view of the house.</p> + +<p>"How much larger it is than you would think, +looking at the front," Jan remarked. "You +don't see that wing at all from the drive."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 257 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span> +"There's plenty of room for nephews and +nieces," Mr. Withells said jocularly.</p> + +<p>"Have you many nephews and nieces?" she +asked, turning to look at him, for there was +something in the tone of his voice that she could +not understand.</p> + +<p>"Not of my own," he replied, still in that +queer, unnatural voice, "but you see my wife +might have ... if I was married."</p> + +<p>"Are you thinking of getting married?" she +asked, with the real interest such a subject always +rouses in woman.</p> + +<p>"That depends," Mr. Withells said consciously, +"on whether the lady I have in mind +... er ... shall we sit down, Miss Ross? It's +rather hot in the walks."</p> + +<p>"Oh, not yet," Jan exclaimed. She couldn't +think why, but she began to feel uncomfortable. +"I must see those Darwin tulips over there."</p> + +<p>"It's very sunny over there," he objected. +"Come down the nut-walk and see the <i>myosotis +arvensis</i>; it is already in bloom, the weather has +been so warm.</p> + +<p>"Miss Ross," Mr. Withells continued seriously, +as they turned into the nut-walk which led back +towards the house, "we have known each other +for a considerable time...."</p> + +<p>"We have," said Jan, as he had paused, evidently +expecting a reply.</p> + +<p>"And I have come to have a great regard for +you...."</p> + +<p>Again he paused, and Jan found herself silently +whispering, "Curtsy while you're thinking<!-- Page 258 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span>—it +saves time," but she preserved an outward +silence.</p> + +<p>"You are, if I may say so, the most sensible +woman of my acquaintance."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said Jan, but without enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>"We are neither of us quite young"—(Mr. +Withells was forty-nine, but it was a little hard +on Jan)—"and I feel sure that you, for instance, +would not expect or desire from a husband those +constant outward demonstrations of affection +such as handclaspings and kisses, which are so +foolish and insanitary."</p> + +<p>Jan turned extremely red and walked rather +faster.</p> + +<p>"Do not misunderstand me, Miss Ross," Mr. +Withells continued, looking with real admiration +at her downcast, rosy face—she must be quite +healthy he thought, to look so clean and fresh +always—"I lay down no hard-and-fast rules. +I do not say should my wife desire to kiss me +sometimes, that I should ... repulse her."</p> + +<p>Jan gasped.</p> + +<p>"But I have the greatest objection, both on +sanitary and moral grounds to——"</p> + +<p>"I can't imagine anyone <em>wanting</em> to kiss you," +Jan interrupted furiously; "you're far too puffy +and stippled."</p> + +<p>And she ran from him as though an angry +bull were after her.</p> + +<p>Mr. Withells stood stock-still where he was, +in pained astonishment.</p> + +<p>He saw the fleeing fair one disappear into the<!-- Page 259 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span> +distance and in the shortest time on record he +heard the clanging of her bicycle bell as she +scorched down his drive.</p> + +<p>"Puffy and stippled"—"Puffy and stippled"!</p> + +<p>Mr. Withells repeated to himself this rudely +personal remark as he walked slowly towards +the house.</p> + +<p>What could she mean?</p> + +<p>And what in the world had he said to make +her so angry?</p> + +<p>Women were really most unaccountable.</p> + +<p>He ascended his handsome staircase and went +into his dressing-room, and there he sought his +looking-glass, which stood in the window, and +surveyed himself critically. Yes, his cheeks +<em>were</em> a bit puffy near the nostrils, and, as is generally +the case in later life, the pores of the skin +were a bit enlarged, but for all that he was quite +a personable man.</p> + +<p>He sighed. Miss Ross, he feared, was not +nearly so sensible as he had thought.</p> + +<p>It was distinctly disappointing.</p> + +<hr class="space" /> + +<p>For the first mile and a quarter Jan scorched +all she knew. The angry blood was thumping +in her ears and she exclaimed indignantly at +intervals, "How dared he! How dared he!"</p> + +<p>Then she punctured a tyre.</p> + +<p>There was no hope of getting it mended till +she reached Wren's End, when Earley would +do it for her. As she pushed her bicycle along +the lane she recovered her sense of humour and +she laughed. And presently she became aware<!-- Page 260 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span> +of a faint, sweet, elusive perfume from some +flowering shrub on the other side of somebody's +garden wall.</p> + +<p>It strongly resembled the smell of a blossoming +tree that grew on Ridge Road, Malabar +Hill. And in one second Jan was in Bombay, +and was standing in the moonlight, looking up +into a face that was neither puffy nor stippled +nor prim; but young and thin and worn and very +kind. And the exquisite understanding of that +moment came back to her, and her eyes filled +with tears.</p> + +<p>Yet in another moment she was again demanding +indignantly, "How dared he!"</p> + +<p>She went straight to her room when she got +in, and, like Mr. Withells, she went and looked +at herself in the glass.</p> + +<p>Unlike Mr. Withells, she saw nothing there +to give her any satisfaction. She shook her +head at the person in the glass and said aloud:</p> + +<p>"If that's all you get by trying to be sensible, +the sooner you become a drivelling idiot the +better for your peace of mind—and your +vanity."</p> + +<p>The person in the glass shook her head back +at Jan, and Jan turned away thoroughly disgusted +with such a futile sort of <i lang="la">tu quoque</i>.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 261 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER XXI<br /> +<span class="sub">ANOTHER WAY OF LOVE</span></h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">M</span>EG and the children, returning from their +tea-party at the vicarage, were stopped +continually in their journey through the main +street by friendly folk who wanted to greet the +children. It was quite a triumphal progress, +and Meg was feeling particularly proud that +afternoon, for her charges, including William, +had all behaved beautifully. Little Fay had +refrained from snatching other children's belongings +with the cool remark, "Plitty little +Fay would like 'at"; Tony had been quite merry +and approachable; and William had offered +paws and submitted to continual pullings, pushings +and draggings with exemplary patience.</p> + +<p>Once through the friendly, dignified old street, +they reached the main road, which was bordered +by rough grass sloping to a ditch surmounted +by a thick thorn hedge. They were rather late, +and Meg was wheeling little Fay as fast as she +could, Tony trotting beside her to keep up, +when a motor horn was sounded behind them +and a large car came along at a good speed. +They were all well to the side of the road, but +William—with the perverse stupidity of the +young dog—above all, of the young bull-terrier—chose +that precise moment to gambol aim<!-- Page 262 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span>lessly +right into the path of the swiftly-coming +motor, just as it seemed right upon him; and +this, regardless of terrified shouts from Meg and +the children, frantic sounding of the horn and +violent language from the driver of the car.</p> + +<p>It seemed that destruction must inevitably +overtake William when the car swerved violently +as the man ran it down the sloping bank, where +it stuck, leaving William, unscathed and rather +alarmed by all the clamour, to run back to his +family.</p> + +<p>Meg promptly whacked him as hard as she +could, whereupon, much surprised, he turned +over on his back, waving four paws feebly in +the air.</p> + +<p>"Why don't you keep your dog at the side?" +the man shouted with very natural irritation as +he descended from his seat.</p> + +<p>"He's a naughty—stupid—puppy," Meg ejaculated +between the whacks. "It wasn't your +fault in the least, and it was awfully good of you +to avoid him."—Whack—whack.</p> + +<p>The man started a little as she spoke and +came across the road towards them.</p> + +<p>Meg raised a flushed face from her castigation +of William, but the pretty colour faded quickly +when she saw who the stranger was.</p> + +<p>"Meg!" he exclaimed. "<em>You!</em>"</p> + +<p>For a tense moment they stared at one another, +while the children stared at the stranger. +He was certainly a handsome man; melancholy, +"interesting." Pale, with regular features and +sleepy, smallish eyes set very near together.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 263 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span> +"If you knew how I have searched for you," +he said.</p> + +<p>His voice was his great charm, and would +have made his fortune on the stage. It could +convey so much, could be so tender and beseeching, +so charged with deepest sadness, so musical +always.</p> + +<p>"Your search cannot have been very arduous," +Meg answered drily. "There has never been +any mystery about my movements." And she +looked him straight in the face.</p> + +<p>"At first, I was afraid ... I did not try to +find you."</p> + +<p>"You were well-advised."</p> + +<p>"Who is 'at sahib?" little Fay interrupted +impatiently. "Let us go home." She had no +use for any sahib who ignored her presence.</p> + +<p>"Yes, we'd better be getting on," Meg said +hurriedly, and seized the handle of the pram.</p> + +<p>But he stood right in their path.</p> + +<p>"You were very cruel," the musical voice +went on. "You never seemed to give a thought +to all <em>I</em> was suffering."</p> + +<p>Meg met the sleepy eyes, that used to thrill +her very soul, with a look of scornful amusement +in hers that was certainly the very last expression +he had ever expected to see in them.</p> + +<p>She had always dreaded this moment.</p> + +<p>Realising the power this man had exercised +over her, she always feared that should she meet +him again the old glamour would surround him; +the old domination be reasserted. She forgot +that in five years one's standards change.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 264 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span> +Now that she did meet him she discovered +that he held no bonds with which to bind her. +That what she had dreaded was a chimera. The +real Walter Brooke, the moment he appeared in +the flesh, destroyed the image memory had set +up; and Meg straightened her slender shoulders +as though a heavy burden had dropped from +them.</p> + +<p>The whole thing passed like a flash.</p> + +<p>"You were very cruel," he repeated.</p> + +<p>"There is no use going into all that," Meg +answered in a cheerful, matter-of-fact tone. +"Good-bye, Mr. Brooke. We are most grateful +to you for not running over William, who is," +here she raised her voice for the benefit of the +culprit, "a naughty—tiresome dog."</p> + +<p>"But you can't leave me like this. When can +I see you again—there is so much I want to +explain...."</p> + +<p>"But I don't want any explanations, thank +you. Come children, we <em>must</em> go."</p> + +<p>"Meg, listen ... surely you have some little +feeling of kindness towards me ... after all +that happened...."</p> + +<p>He put his hand on Meg's arm to detain her, +and William, who had never been known to +show enmity to human creature, gave a deep +growl and bristled. A growl so ominous and +threatening that Meg hastily loosed the pram +and caught him by the collar with both hands.</p> + +<p>Tony saw that Meg was flustered and uncomfortable. +"Why does he not go?" he asked. +"I thought he was a sahib, but I suppose he is<!-- Page 265 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span> +the gharri-wallah. We have thanked him—does +he want backsheesh? Give him a rupee."</p> + +<p>"He <em>does</em> want backsheesh," the deep, musical +voice went on—"a little pity, a little common +kindness."</p> + +<p>It was an embarrassing situation. William was +straining at his collar and growling like an incipient +thunderstorm.</p> + +<p>"We have thanked you," Tony said again +with dignity. "We have no money, or we would +reward you. If you like to call at the house, +Auntie Jan always has money."</p> + +<p>The man smiled pleasantly at Tony.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, young man. You have told me +exactly what I wanted to know. So you are +with your friends?"</p> + +<p>"I can't hold this dog much longer," Meg +gasped. "If you don't go—you'll get bitten."</p> + +<p>William ceased to growl, for far down the road +he had heard a footstep that he knew. He still +strained at his collar, but it was in a direction +that led away from Mr. Walter Brooke. Meg +let go and William swung off down the road.</p> + +<p>"Shall we all have a lide in loo ghalli?" little +Fay asked—it seemed to her sheer waste of time +to stand arguing in the road when a good car +was waiting empty. The children called every +form of conveyance a "gharri."</p> + +<p>"We shall meet again," said this persistent +man. "You can't put me off like this."</p> + +<p>He raised his voice, for he was angry, and its +clear tones carried far down the quiet road.</p> + +<p>"There's Captain Middleton with William,"<!-- Page 266 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span> +Tony said suddenly. "Perhaps <em>he</em> has some +money."</p> + +<p>Meg paled and crimsoned, and with hands +that trembled started to push the pram at a +great pace.</p> + +<p>The man went back to his car, and Tony, regardless +of Meg's call to him, ran to meet William +and Miles.</p> + +<p>The back wheels of the car had sunk deeply +into the soft wet turf. It refused to budge. +Miles came up. He was long-sighted, and he +had seen very well who it was that was talking +to Meg in the road. He had also heard Mr. +Brooke's last remark.</p> + +<p>Till lately he had only known Walter Brooke +enough to dislike him vaguely. Since his interview +with Mrs. Trent this feeling had intensified +to such an extent as surprised himself. At the +present moment he was seething with rage, but +all the same he went and helped to get the car +up the bank, jacking it up, and setting his great +shoulders against it to start it again.</p> + +<p>All this Tony watched with deepest interest, +and Meg waited, fuming, a little way down the +road, for she knew it was hopeless to get Tony +to come till the car had once started. Once on +the hard road again, it bowled swiftly away +and to her immense relief passed her without +stopping.</p> + +<p>She saw that Miles was bringing Tony, and +started on again with little Fay.</p> + +<p>Fury was in her heart at Tony's disobedience, +and behind it all a dull ache that Miles should<!-- Page 267 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span> +have heard, and doubtless misunderstood, Walter +Brooke's last remark.</p> + +<p>Tony was talking eagerly as he followed, but +she was too upset to listen till suddenly she +heard Miles say in a tone of the deepest satisfaction, +"Good old William."</p> + +<p>This was too much.</p> + +<p>She stopped and called over her shoulder: +"He isn't good at all; he's a thoroughly tiresome, +disobedient, badly-trained dog."</p> + +<p>They came up with her at that, and William +rolled over on his back, for he knew those tones +portended further punishment.</p> + +<p>"He's an ass in lots of ways," Miles allowed, +"but he is an excellent judge of character."</p> + +<p>And as if in proof of this William righted himself +and came cringing to Meg to try and lick the +hand that a few minutes ago had thumped him +so vigorously.</p> + +<p>Meg looked up at Miles and he looked down +at her, and his gaze was pained, kind and grave. +<em>His</em> eyes were large and well-opened and set +wide apart in his broad face. Honest, trustworthy +eyes they were.</p> + +<p>Very gently he took the little pram from her, +for he saw that her hands were trembling: +"You've had a fright," he said. "I know what +it is. I had a favourite dog run over once. It's +horrible, it takes months to get over it. I can't +think why dogs are so stupid about motors ... +must have been a near shave that ... very +decent of Brooke—he's taken pounds off his car +with that wrench."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 268 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span> +While Miles talked he didn't look at Meg.</p> + +<p>"I say, little Fay," he suddenly suggested, +"wouldn't you like to walk a bit?" and he lifted +her out. "There, that's better. Now, Miss +Morton, you sit down a minute; you've had a +shake, you know. I'll go on with the kiddies."</p> + +<p>Meg was feeling a horrible, humiliating desire +to cry. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears, +her knees refused to bear her. Thankfully she +sat down on the foot-board of Fay's little pram. +The tall figure between the two little ones suddenly +grew blurred and dim. Furtively she +blew her nose and wiped her eyes. They were +not a stone's throw from the lodge at Wren's +End.</p> + +<p>How absurd to be sitting there!</p> + +<p>And yet she didn't feel inclined to move just +yet.</p> + +<p>"'Ere, my dear, you take a sip o' water; the +gentleman's told me all about it. Them sort +o' shocks fair turns one over."</p> + +<p>And kind Mrs. Earley was beside her, holding +out a thick tumbler. Meg drank the deliciously +cold water and arose refreshed.</p> + +<p>And somehow the homely comfort of Mrs. +Earley's presence made her realise wherein lay +the essential difference between these two men.</p> + +<p>"He still treats me like a princess," she +thought, "even though he thinks ... Oh, what +<em>can</em> he think?" and Meg gave a little sob.</p> + +<p>"There, there!" said Mrs. Earley, "don't you +take on no more, Miss. The dear dog bain't +'urted not a 'air of him. 'E cum frolicking in<!-- Page 269 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span> +that friendly—I sometimes wonders if there do +be anyone as William 'ud ever bite. 'E ain't +much of a watchdog, I fear."</p> + +<p>"He nearly bit someone this afternoon," Meg +said.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm not sorry to yer it. It don't do +for man nor beast to be too trustful—not in this +world it don't."</p> + +<p>At the drive gate Miles was standing.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Earley took the pram with her for Earley +to clean, and Meg and Miles walked on together.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry you've had this upset," he said. +"I've talked to William like a father."</p> + +<p>"It wasn't only William," Meg murmured.</p> + +<p>They were close to the house, and she stopped.</p> + +<p>"Good night, Captain Middleton. I must go +and put my children to bed; we're late."</p> + +<p>"I don't want to seem interfering, Miss +Morton, but don't you let anyone bully you into +picking up an acquaintance you'd rather drop."</p> + +<p>"I suppose," said Meg, "one always has to +pay for the things one has done."</p> + +<p>"Well, yes, sooner or later; but it's silly to +pay Jew prices."</p> + +<p>"Ah," said Meg, "you've never been poor +enough to go to the Jews, so you can't tell."</p> + +<hr class="space" /> + +<p>Miles walked slowly back to Amber Guiting +that warm May evening. He had a good deal +to think over, for he had come to a momentous +decision. When he thought of Meg as he had +just seen her—small and tremulous and tearful—he +clenched his big hands and made a sound<!-- Page 270 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span> +in his throat not unlike William's growl. When +he pictured her angry onslaught upon William, +he laughed. But the outcome of his reflections +was this—that whether in the past she had really +done anything that put her in Walter Brooke's +power, or whether he was right to trust to that +intangible quality in her that seemed to give +the direct lie to the worst of Mrs. Trent's story, +Meg appeared to him to stand in need of some +hefty chap as a buffer between her and the hard +world, and he was very desirous of being that +same for Meg.</p> + +<p>His grandfather, "Mutton-Pie Middleton," had +married one of his own waitresses for no other +reason than that he found she was "the lass for +him"—and he might, so the Doncaster folk +thought, have looked a good deal higher for a +wife, for he was a "warm" man at the time. +Miles strongly resembled his grandfather. He +was somewhat ruefully aware that in appearance +there was but little of the Keills about him. +He could just remember the colossal old man +who must have weighed over twenty stone in +his old age, and Miles, hitherto, had refused to +buy a motor for his own use because he knew +that if he was to keep his figure he must walk, +and walk a lot.</p> + +<p>Like his grandfather, he was now perfectly +sure of himself; Meg "was the lass for him"; +but he was by no means equally sure of her. +By some infallible delicacy of instinct—and this +he certainly did not get from the Middletons—he +knew that what the world would regard as a<!-- Page 271 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span> +magnificent match for Meg, might be the very +circumstance that would destroy his chance +with her. The Middletons were all keenly alive +to the purchasing powers of money, and saw +to it that they got their money's worth.</p> + +<p>All the same, a man's a man, whether he be +rich or poor, and Miles still remembered the way +Meg had smiled upon him the first time they +ever met. Surely she could never have smiled +at him like that unless she had rather liked +him.</p> + +<p>It was the pathos of Meg herself—not the +fact that she had to work—that appealed to +Miles. That she should cheerfully earn her own +living instead of grousing in idleness in a meagre +home seemed to him merely a matter of common +sense. He knew that if he had to do it he could +earn his, and the one thing he could neither +tolerate nor understand about a good many of +his Keills relations was their preference for any +form of assistance to honest work. He helped +them generously enough, but in his heart of +hearts he despised them, though he did not confess +this even to himself.</p> + +<p>As he drew near the Manor House he saw +Lady Mary walking up and down outside, evidently +waiting for him.</p> + +<p>"Where have you been, Miles?" she asked, +impatiently. "Pen has been here, and wanted +specially to see you, but she couldn't stay any +longer, as it's such a long run back. She motored +over from Malmesbury."</p> + +<p>"What did she want?" Miles asked. "She's<!-- Page 272 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span> +always in a stew about something. One of her +Pekinese got pip, or what?"</p> + +<p>Lady Mary took his arm and turned to walk +along the terrace. "I think," she said, and +stopped. "Where <em>were</em> you, Miles?"</p> + +<p>"I strolled down the village to get some tobacco, +and then I saw a chap who'd got his motor +stuck, and helped him, and then ..." Here +Miles looked down at his aunt, who looked up +at him apprehensively. "I caught up with Miss +Morton and the children, and walked back to +Wren's End with them. There, Aunt Mary, +that's a categorical history of my time since tea."</p> + +<p>Lady Mary pressed his arm. "Miles, dear, +do you think it's quite wise to be seen about so +much with little Miss Morton ... wise for her +I mean?"</p> + +<p>"I hope I'm not the sort of chap it's bad to +be seen about with...."</p> + +<p>"Of course not, dear Miles, but, you see, her +position...."</p> + +<p>"What's the matter with her position?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I know it's most creditable of her +and all that ... but ... when a girl has to +go out as a sort of nursery governess, it is different, +isn't it, dear? I mean...."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Aunt Mary, I'm awfully interested—different +from what?"</p> + +<p>"From girls who lead the sheltered life, girls +who don't work ... girls of our own class."</p> + +<p>"I don't know," Miles said thoughtfully, +"that I should say Pen, for instance, lives exactly +a <em>sheltered</em> life, should you?"</p> + +<p><!-- Page 273 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span> +"Pen is married."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but before she was married ... eh, +Aunt Mary? Be truthful, now."</p> + +<p>Miles held his aunt's arm tightly within his, +and he stooped and looked into her face.</p> + +<p>"And does the fact that Pen is married explain +or excuse her deplorable taste in men? +Which does it do, Aunt Mary? Speak up, +now."</p> + +<p>Lady Mary laughed. "I'm not here to defend +Pen; I'm here to get your answer as to +whether you think it's ... quite fair to make +that little Miss Morton conspicuous by running +after her and making her the talk of the entire +county, for that's what you're doing."</p> + +<p>"What good old Pen has been telling you I'm +doing, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"I had my own doubts about it without any +help from Pen ... but she said Alec Pottinger +had been talking...."</p> + +<p>"Pottinger's an ass."</p> + +<p>"He doesn't talk <em>much</em>, anyhow, Miles, and +she felt if <em>he</em> said anything...."</p> + +<p>"Look here, Aunt Mary, how's a chap to go +courting seriously if he doesn't run after a girl?... +he can't work it from a distance ... not +unless he's one of those poet chaps, and puts +letters in hollow trees and so on. And you don't +seem to have provided any hollow trees about +here."</p> + +<p>"Courting ... seriously!" Lady Mary repeated +with real horror in her tones. "Oh, +Miles, you can't mean that!"</p> + +<p><!-- Page 274 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span> +"Surely you'd not prefer I meant the other +thing?"</p> + +<p>"But, Miles dear, think!"</p> + +<p>"I have thought, and I've thought it out."</p> + +<p>"You mean you want to <em>marry</em> her?"</p> + +<p>Lady Mary spoke in an awed whisper.</p> + +<p>"Just exactly that, and I don't care who +knows it; but I'm not at all sure she wants to +marry me ... that's why I don't want to rush +my fences and get turned down. I'm a heavy +chap to risk a fall, Aunt Mary."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Miles! this is worse than anything Pen +even dreamt of."</p> + +<p>"What is? If you mean that she probably +won't have me—I'm with you."</p> + +<p>"Of course she'd jump at you—any girl would.... +But a little nursemaid!"</p> + +<p>"Come now, Aunt Mary, you know very well +she's just as good as I am; better, probably, for +she's got no pies nor starch in her pedigree. Her +father's a Major and her mother was of quite +good family—and she's got lots of rich, stingy +relations ... and she doesn't sponge on 'em. +What's the matter with her?"</p> + +<p>"Please don't do anything in a hurry, dear +Miles."</p> + +<p>"I shan't, if you and Pen and the blessed +'county,' with its criticism and gossip, don't +drive me into it ... but the very first word +you either say or repeat to me against Miss +Morton, off I go to her and to the old Major.... +So now we understand each other, Aunt +Mary—eh?"</p> + +<p><!-- Page 275 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span> +"There are things you ought to know, Miles."</p> + +<p>"You may depend," said Miles grimly, "that +anything I ought to know I shall be told ... +over and over again ... confound it.... +And remember, Aunt Mary, that what I've told +you is not in the least private. Tell Pen, tell +Mrs. Fream, tell Withells, but just leave me to +tell Miss Ross, that's all I beg."</p> + +<p>"Miles, I shall tell nobody, for I hope ... I +hope——"</p> + +<p>"'Hope told a flattering tale,'" said Miles, +and kissed his aunt ... but to himself he said: +"I've shut their mouths for a day or two anyway."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 276 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER XXII<br /> +<span class="sub">THE ENCAMPMENT</span></h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">I</span>T was the morning of the first Monday in +June, and Tony had wandered out into the +garden all by himself. Monday mornings were +very busy, and once Clipture was over Jan and +Meg became socially useless to any self-respecting +boy.</p> + +<p>There was all the washing to sort and divide +into two large heaps: what might be sent to +Mrs. Chitt in the village, and what might be +kept for the ministrations of one Mrs. Mumford, +who came every Monday to Wren's End. And +this division was never arrived at without a good +deal of argument between Jan and Meg.</p> + +<p>If Jan had had her way, Mrs. Mumford's heap +would have been very small indeed, and would +have consisted chiefly of socks and handkerchiefs. +If Meg had had hers, nothing at all would have +gone to Mrs. Chitt. Usually, too, Hannah was +called in as final arbitrator, and she generally +sided with Meg. Little Fay took the greatest +interest in the whole ceremony, chattered continually, +and industriously mixed up the heaps +when no one was looking.</p> + +<p>At such times Tony was of the opinion that +there were far too many women in the world.<!-- Page 277 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span> +On this particular morning, too, he felt injured +because of something that had happened at +breakfast.</p> + +<p>It was always a joy to Meg and Jan that whatever +poor Fay might have left undone in the +matter of disciplining her children, she had at +least taught them to eat nicely. Little Fay's +management of a spoon was a joy to watch. The +dimpled baby hand was so deft, the turn of the +plump wrist so sure and purposeful. She never +spilled or slopped her food about. Its journey +from bowl to little red mouth was calculated and +assured. Both children had a horror of anything +sticky, and would refuse jam unless it was "well +covelled in a sangwidge."</p> + +<p>That very morning Jan and Meg exchanged +congratulatory glances over their well-behaved +charges, sitting side by side.</p> + +<p>Then, all at once, with a swift, sure movement, +little Fay stretched up and deposited a spoonful +of exceedingly hot porridge exactly on the top +of her brother's head, with a smart tap.</p> + +<p>Tony's hair was always short, and had been +cut on Saturday, and the hot mixture ran down +into his eyes, which filled him with rage.</p> + +<p>He tried to get out of his high chair, exclaiming +angrily, "Let me get at her to box her!"</p> + +<p>Jan held him down with one hand while she +wiped away the offending mess with the other, +and all the time Tony cried in <i lang="it">crescendo</i>, "Let +me get at her!"</p> + +<p>Little Fay, quite unmoved, continued to eat +her porridge with studied elegance, and in gently<!-- Page 278 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span> +reproachful tones remarked, "Tony velly closs +littoo boy."</p> + +<p>Jan and Meg, who wanted desperately to +laugh, tried hard to look shocked, and Meg +asked, "What on earth possessed you to do +such a thing?"</p> + +<p>"Tony's head so shiny and smoove."</p> + +<p>Tony rubbed the shiny head ruefully.</p> + +<p>"Can't I do nuffin to her?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>"No," his sister answered firmly, "loo can't, +'cos I'm plitty littoo Fay."</p> + +<p>"Can't I plop some on <em>her</em> head?" he persisted.</p> + +<p>"It certainly seems unfair," Jan said thoughtfully, +"but I think you'd better not."</p> + +<p>"It <em>is</em> unfair," Tony grumbled.</p> + +<p>Jan loosed his hands. "Now," she said, "you +can do what you like."</p> + +<p>Little Fay leaned towards her brother, smiling +her irresistible, dimpled, twinkling smile, and +held out a spoonful of her porridge.</p> + +<p>"Deah littoo Tony," she cooed, "taste it."</p> + +<p>And Tony meekly accepted the peace-offering.</p> + +<p>"You haven't smacked her," Jan remarked.</p> + +<p>Tony sighed. "It's too late now—I don't +feel like it any more."</p> + +<p>All the same he felt aggrieved as he set out to +seek Earley in the kitchen garden.</p> + +<p>Earley was not to be found. He saw Mrs. +Mumford already hanging kitchen cloths on a +line in the orchard, but he felt no desire for Mrs. +Mumford's society.</p> + +<p>Tony's tormented soul sought for something +soothing.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 279 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span> +The garden was pleasant, but it wasn't enough.</p> + +<p>Ah! he'd got it!</p> + +<p>He'd go to the river; all by himself he'd go, +and not tell anybody. He'd look over the bridge +into that cool deep pool and perhaps that big +fat trout would be swimming about. What was +it he had heard Captain Middleton say last time +he was down at Amber Guiting? "The Mayfly +was up."</p> + +<p>He had seemed quite delighted about it, therefore +it must mean something pleasant.</p> + +<p>After all, on a soft, not too sunny morning in +early June, with a west wind rustling the leaves +in the hedges, the world was not such a bad +place; for even if there were rather too many +women in it, there were dogs and rivers and +country roads where adventurous boys could +see life for themselves.</p> + +<p>William agreed with Tony in his dislike of +Monday mornings. He went and lay on the +front door mat so that he was more than ready +to accompany anyone who happened to be going +out.</p> + +<p>By the time they reached the bridge all sense +of injury had vanished, and buoyant expectation +had taken its place.</p> + +<p>Three men were fishing. One was far in the +distance, one about three hundred yards up +stream, and one Tony recognised as Mr. +Dauncey, landlord of "The Full Basket," the +square white house standing in its neat garden +just on the other side of the bridge. The fourth +gentleman, who had forgotten his hat, and was<!-- Page 280 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span> +clad in a holland smock, sandals, and no stockings, +leaned over luxuriously, with his elbows +on the low wall and his bare legs thrust out. +He was very still, even trying not to twitch when +William licked his bare legs, as he did at intervals +just to show he was there on guard.</p> + +<p>There had been heavy rain in the night and +the water was discoloured. Nobody noticed +Tony, and for about an hour nothing happened. +Then Mr. Dauncey got a rise. The rigid little +figure on the bridge leaned further over as Mr. +Dauncey's reel screamed and he followed his +cast down stream.</p> + +<p>Presently, with a sense of irritation, Tony was +aware of footsteps coming over the bridge. He +felt that he simply could not bear it just then if +anyone leaned over beside him and talked. The +footsteps came up behind him and passed; and +William, who was lying between Tony's legs +and the wall, squeezed as close to him as possible, +gave a low growl.</p> + +<p>"Hush, William, naughty dog!" Tony whispered +crossly.</p> + +<p>William hushed, and drooped as he always +did when rebuked.</p> + +<p>It occurred to Tony to look after this amazing +person who could cross a bridge without stopping +to look over when a reel was joyfully proclaiming +that some fisherman was having luck.</p> + +<p>It was a man, and he walked as though he +were footsore and tired. There was something +dejected and shabby in his appearance, and his +clothes looked odd somehow in Amber Guiting.<!-- Page 281 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span> +Tony stared after the stranger, and gradually +he realised that there was something familiar +in the back of the tall figure that walked so slowly +and yet seemed trying to walk fast.</p> + +<p>The man had a stick and evidently leant upon +it as he went. He wore an overcoat and carried +nothing in his hand.</p> + +<p>Mr. Dauncey's reel chuckled and one of the +other anglers ran towards him with a landing-net.</p> + +<p>But Tony still stared after the man. Presently, +with a deep sigh, he started to follow him.</p> + +<p>Just once he turned, in time to see that Mr. +Dauncey had landed his trout.</p> + +<p>The sun came out from behind the clouds. +"The Full Basket," the river, brown and rippled, +the bridge, the two men talking eagerly on the +bank below, the muddy road growing cream-coloured +in patches as it dried, were all photographed +upon Tony's mind. When he started +to follow the stranger he was out of sight, but +now Tony trotted steadily forward and did not +look round again.</p> + +<p>William was glad. He had been lying in a +puddle, and, like little Fay, he preferred "a dly +place."</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, at Wren's End the washing had +taken a long time to count and to divide. There +seemed a positively endless number of little +smocks and frocks and petticoats and pinafores, +and Meg wanted to keep them all for Mrs. Mumford +to wash, declaring that she (Meg) could +starch and iron them beautifully. This was +quite true. She could iron very well, as she did<!-- Page 282 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span> +everything she undertook to do. But Jan knew +that it tired her dreadfully, that the heat and +the wielding of the heavy iron were very bad for +her, and after much argument and many insulting +remarks from Meg as to Jan's obstinacy and +extravagance generally, the things were divided. +Meg put on little Fay's hat and swept her out +into the garden; whereupon Jan plunged into +Mrs. Mumford's heap, removed all the things to +be ironed that could not be tackled by Anne +Chitt, stuffed them into Mrs. Chitt's basket, +fastened it firmly and rang for Anne and Hannah +to carry the things away.</p> + +<p>She washed her hands and put on her gardening +gloves preparatory to going out, humming +a gay little snatch of song; and as she ran down +the wide staircase she heard the bell ring, and +saw the figure of a man standing in the open +doorway.</p> + +<p>The maids were carrying the linen down the +back stairs, and she went across the hall to see +what he wanted.</p> + +<p>"Well, Jan," he said, and his voice sounded +weak and tired. "Here I am at last."</p> + +<p>He held out his hand, and as she took it she +felt how hot and dry it was.</p> + +<p>"Come in, Hugo," she said quietly. "Why +didn't you let me know you were coming, and +I'd have met you."</p> + +<p>The man followed her as she led the way into +the cool, fragrant drawing-room. He paused +in the doorway and passed his hand across his +eyes. "It does bring it all back," he said.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 283 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span> +He sat down in a deep chair and leaned his +head against the back, closing his eyes. Jan +saw that he was thin to emaciation, and that he +looked very ill; shabby, too, and broken.</p> + +<p>The instinct of the nurse that exists in any +woman worth her salt was roused in Jan. All +the passionate indignation she had felt against +her brother-in-law was merged at the moment +in pity and anxiety.</p> + +<p>"Hugo," she said gently, "I fear you are ill. +Have you had any breakfast?"</p> + +<p>"I came by the early train to avoid ordering +breakfast; I couldn't have paid for it. I'd only +enough for my fare. Jan, I haven't a single +rupee left."</p> + +<p>He sat forward in the chair with his hands on +the arms and closed his eyes again.</p> + +<p>Jan looked keenly at the handsome, haggard +face. There was no pretence here. The man +was gravely ill. His lips (Jan had always mistrusted +his well-shaped mouth because it would +never really shut) were dry and cracked and discoloured, +the cheekbones sharp, and there was +that deep hollow at the back of the neck that always +betrays the man in ill-health.</p> + +<p>She went to him and pressed him back in the +chair.</p> + +<p>"What do you generally do when you have +fever?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Go to bed—if there is a bed; and take +quinine and drink hot tea."</p> + +<p>"That's what you'd better do now. Where +are your things?"</p> + +<p><!-- Page 284 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span> +"There's a small bag at the station. They +promised to send it up. I couldn't carry it and +I had no money to pay a boy. I came the long +way round, Jan, not through the village. No +one recognised me."</p> + +<p>"I'll get you some tea at once, and I have +quinine in the house. Will you take some now?"</p> + +<p>Hugo laughed. "Your quinine would be of +no earthly use to me, but I've already taken it +this morning. I've got some here in my pocket. +The minute my bag comes I'll go to bed—if +you don't mind."</p> + +<p>Someone fumbled at the handle of the door, +and Tony, followed by William, appeared on +the threshold.</p> + +<p>Hugo Tancred opened his eyes. "Hullo!" he +said. "Do you remember me, young shaver?"</p> + +<p>Tony came into the room holding out his +hand. "How do you do?" he said solemnly.</p> + +<p>Hugo took it and stared at his son with strange +glazed eyes. "You look fit enough, anyhow," he +said, and dropped the little hand.</p> + +<p>"I came as quick as I could," Tony said eagerly +to Jan. "But Mr. Dauncey caught a trout, and +I <em>had</em> to wait a minute."</p> + +<p>"Good heavens!" Hugo exclaimed irritably. +"Do you all <em>still</em> think and talk about nothing +but fishing?"</p> + +<p>"Come," said Jan, holding out her hand to +Tony, "and we'll go and see about some breakfast +for Daddie."</p> + +<p>William, who had been sniffing dubiously at +the man in the chair, dashed after them.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 285 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span> +As they crossed the hall Tony remarked philosophically: +"Daddie's got fever. He'll be very +cross, then he'll be very sad, and then he'll want +you to give him something, and if you do—p'raps +he'll go away."</p> + +<p>Jan made no answer.</p> + +<p>Tony followed her through the swing door +and down the passage to speak to Hannah, who +was much moved and excited when she heard +Mr. Tancred had arrived. Hannah was full of +sympathy for the "poor young widower," and +though she could have wished that he had given +them notice of his coming, still, she supposed +him to be so distracted with grief that he forgot +to do anything of the kind. She and Anne Chitt +went there and then to make up his bed, while +Jan boiled the kettle and got him some breakfast.</p> + +<p>While she was doing this Meg and little Fay +came round to the back to look for Tony, whom +they found making toast.</p> + +<p>"Who's tum?" asked little Fay, while Jan +rapidly explained the situation to Meg.</p> + +<p>"Your Daddie's come."</p> + +<p>Little Fay looked rather vague. "What sort +of a Daddie?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"You take her to see him, Tony, and I'll finish +the toast," said Jan, taking the fork out of his +hand.</p> + +<p>When the children had gone Meg said slowly: +"And Mr. Ledgard comes to-morrow?"</p> + +<p>"He can't. I must telegraph and put him off +for a day or two. Hugo is really ill."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 286 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span> +"I shouldn't put him off long, if I were you."</p> + +<p>Jan seized the tray: "I'll send a wire now, if +you and the children will take it down to the +post-office for me."</p> + +<p>"Why send it at all?" said Meg. "Let him +come."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 287 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER XXIII<br /> +<span class="sub">TACTICS</span></h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">I</span>T was a fortnight since Hugo Tancred arrived +at Wren's End, and Jan had twice put off +Peter's visit.</p> + +<p>During the first few days Hugo's temperature +remained so high that she grew thoroughly +alarmed; and in spite of his protestations that +he was "quite used to it," she sent for the doctor. +Happily the doctor in his youth had been in the +East and was able to reassure her. His opinion, +too, had more weight with Hugo on this account, +and though he grumbled he consented to +do what the doctor advised. And at the end of +a week Hugo was able to come downstairs, looking +very white and shaky. He lay out in the +garden in a deck-chair for most of the day and +managed to eat a good many of the nourishing +dishes Hannah prepared for him.</p> + +<p>It had been a hard time for Jan, as Hugo was +not an invalid who excited compassion in those +who had to wait upon him. He took everything +for granted, was somewhat morose and exacting, +and made no attempt to control the extreme +irritability that so often accompanies fever.</p> + +<p>When the fever left him, however, his tone +changed, and the second stage, indicated by +Tony as "sad," set in with severity.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 288 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span> +His depression was positively overwhelming, +and he seemed to think that its public manifestation +should arouse in all beholders the most +poignant and respectful sympathy.</p> + +<p>Poor Jan found it very difficult to behave in +a manner at all calculated to satisfy her brother-in-law. +She had not, so far, uttered one word +of reproach to him, but she <em>would</em> shrink visibly +when he tried to discuss his wife, and she could +not even pretend to believe in the deep sincerity +of a grief that seemed to find such facile solace +in expression. The mode of expression, too, in +hackneyed, commonplace phrases, set her teeth +on edge.</p> + +<p>She knew that poor Hugo—she called him +"poor Hugo" just then—thought her cold and +unsympathetic because she rather discouraged +his outpourings; but Fay's death was too lately-lived +a tragedy to make it possible for her to +talk of it—above all, with him; and after several +abortive attempts Hugo gave up all direct endeavour +to make her.</p> + +<p>"You are terribly Scotch, Jan," he said one +day. "I sometimes wonder whether anything +could make you <em>really</em> feel."</p> + +<p>Jan looked at him with a sort of contemptuous +wonder that caused him to redden angrily, but +she made no reply.</p> + +<p>He was her guest, he was a broken man, and +she knew well that they had not yet even approached +their real difference.</p> + +<p>Two people, however, took Hugo's attitude of +profound dejection in the way he expected and<!-- Page 289 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span> +liked it to be taken. These were Mr. Withells +and Hannah.</p> + +<p>Mr. Withells did not bear Jan a grudge because +of her momentary lapse from good manners. In +less than a week from the unfortunate interview +in the nut-walk he had decided that she could +not properly have understood him; and that he +had, perhaps, sprung upon her too suddenly the +high honour he held in store for her.</p> + +<p>So back he came in his neat little two-seater +car to call at Wren's End as if nothing had happened, +and Jan, guiltily conscious that she <em>had</em> +been very rude, was only too thankful to accept +the olive-branch in the spirit in which it was +offered.</p> + +<p>He took to coming almost as often as before, +and was thoroughly interested and commiserating +when he heard that poor Mrs. Tancred's +husband had come home from India and been +taken ill almost immediately on arrival. He +sent some early strawberries grown in barrels +in the houses, and with them a note conjuring +Jan "on no account to leave them in the sickroom +overnight, as the smell of fruit was so +deleterious."</p> + +<p>Hannah considered Hugo's impenetrable gloom +a most proper and husbandly tribute to the departed. +She felt that had there been a Mr. +Hannah she could not have wished him to show +more proper feeling had Providence thought fit +to snatch her from his side. So she expressed +her admiration in the strongest of soups, the +smoothest of custards, and the most succulent<!-- Page 290 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</a></span> +of mutton-chops. Gladly would she have commanded +Mrs. Earley to slay her fattest cockerels +for the nourishment of "yon poor heartbroken +young man," but that she remembered (from +her experience of Fay's only visit) that no one +just home from India will give a thank-you for +chickens.</p> + +<p>Jan had cause to bless kind Mr. Withells, for +directly Hugo was able for it, he came with his +largest and most comfortable car, driven by his +trustworthy chauffeur, to take the invalid for a +run right into Wiltshire. He pressed Jan to go +too, but she pleaded "things to see to" at home.</p> + +<p>Hugo had seen practically nothing of Meg. +She was fully occupied in keeping the children +out of their father's way. Little Fay "pooah +daddied" him when they happened to meet, and +Tony stared at him in the weighing, measuring +way Hugo found so trying, but Meg neither +looked at him nor did she address any remark +whatever to him unless she positively could not +help it.</p> + +<p>Meg was thoroughly provoked that he should +have chosen to turn up just then. She had been +most anxious that Peter should come. Firstly, +because, being sharply observant, she had come +to the conclusion that his visit would be a real +pleasure to Jan, and secondly, because she ardently +desired to see him herself that she might +judge whether he was "at all good enough."</p> + +<p>And now her well-loved Jan, instead of looking +her best, was growing thin and haggard, +losing her colour, and her sweet serenity, and in<!-- Page 291 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span> +their place a patient, tired expression in her eyes +that went to Meg's heart.</p> + +<p>She had hardly seen Jan alone for over a week; +for since Hugo came downstairs Meg had taken +all her meals with the children in the nursery, +while Jan and Hugo had theirs in the rarely-used +dining-room. The girls breakfasted together, +as Hugo had his in his room, but as the +children were always present there was small +chance of any confidential conversation.</p> + +<p>The first afternoon Mr. Withells took Hugo +for a drive, Meg left her children in Earley's +care the minute she heard the car depart, and +went to look for Jan in the house.</p> + +<p>She found her opening all the windows in the +dining-room. Meg shut the door and sat on the +polished table, lit a cigarette and regarded her +own pretty swinging feet with interest.</p> + +<p>"How long does Mr. Tancred propose to +stay?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"How can I tell," Jan answered wearily, as +she sat down in one of the deep window-seats. +"He has nowhere to go and no money to go with; +and, so far, except for a vague allusion to some +tea-plantation in Ceylon, he has suggested no +plans. Oh, yes! I forgot, there was something +about fruit-farming or vine-growing in California, +but I fancy considerable capital would +be needed for that."</p> + +<p>"And how much longer do you intend to keep +Mr. Ledgard waiting for <em>his</em> visit?"</p> + +<p>"It would be small pleasure for Mr. Ledgard +to come here with Hugo, and horrid for Hugo,<!-- Page 292 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span> +for he knows perfectly well what Peter ... +Mr. Ledgard thinks of him."</p> + +<p>"But if friend Hugo knew Mr. Ledgard was +coming, might it not have an accelerating effect +upon his movements? You could give him his +fare—single, mind—to Guernsey. Let him go +and stay with his people for a bit."</p> + +<p>Jan shook her head. "I can't turn him out, +Meg; and I'm not going to let Mr. Ledgard +waste his precious leave on an unpleasant visit. +If I could give him a good time it would be different; +but after all he did for us while we were +in Bombay, it would be rank ingratitude to let +him in for more worries at home."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps he wouldn't consider them worries. +Perhaps he'd <em>like</em> to come."</p> + +<p>Jan's strained expression relaxed a little and +she smiled with her eyes fixed on Meg's neat +swinging feet. "He <em>says</em> he would."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, take him at his word. We can +turn the excellent Withells on to Hugo. Let +him instruct Hugo in the importance of daily +free gymnastics after one's bath and the necessity +for windows being left open at the top 'day +and night, but <em>especially</em> at night.' Let's tell +that Peter man to come."</p> + +<p>Jan shook her head.</p> + +<p>"No, I've explained the situation to him and +begged him not to consider us any more for the +present. We must think of the maids too. You +see, Hugo makes a good deal of extra work, and +I'm afraid Hannah might turn grumpy if there +was yet another man to do for."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 293 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span> +Meg thoughtfully blew beautiful rings of smoke, +carefully poked a small finger exactly into the +centre of each and continued to swing her feet in +silence.</p> + +<p>Jan leaned her head against the casement and +closed her eyes.</p> + +<p>Without so much as a rustle Meg descended +from the table. She went over to Jan and dropped +a light kiss on the top of the thick wavy hair +that was so nearly white. Jan opened her tired +eyes and smiled.</p> + +<p>This quaint person in the green linen frock +and big white apron always looked so restfully +neat and clean, so capable and strong with that +inward shining strength that burns with a steady +light. Jan put her arms round Meg and leaned +her head against the admirable apron's cool, +smooth bib.</p> + +<p>"You're here, anyway," she said. "You +don't know how I thank God for that."</p> + +<p>Meg held her close. "Listen to me," she said. +"You're going on quite a wrong tack with that +brother-in-law. You are, Jan—I grieve to say +it—standing between him and his children—you +don't allow him to see his children, especially +his adored daughter, nearly enough. Now that +he is well enough to take the air with Mr. +Withells I propose that we allow him to <em>study</em> +his children—and how can he study them if they +are never left with him? Let him realise what +it would be if he had them with him constantly, +and no interfering aunt to keep them in order—do +you understand, Jan? Have you tumbled<!-- Page 294 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span> +to it? You are losing a perfectly magnificent +opportunity."</p> + +<p>Jan pushed Meg a little away from her and +looked up: "I believe there's a good deal in +what you say."</p> + +<p>"There's everything in what I say. As long +as the man was ill one couldn't, of course, but +now we can and will—eh, Jan?"</p> + +<p>"Not Tony," Jan said nervously. "Hugo +doesn't care much for Tony, and I'm always +afraid what he may say or do to the child."</p> + +<p>"If you let him have them both occasionally +he may discover that Tony has his points."</p> + +<p>"They're <em>both</em> perfect darlings," Jan said resentfully. +Meg laughed and danced a two-step +to the door.</p> + +<p>"They're darlings that need a good deal of +diplomatic managing, and if they don't get it +they'll raise Cain. I'm going to take them down +to the post-office directly with my Indian letters. +Why not come with us for the walk?"</p> + +<hr class="space" /> + +<p>Hugo quite enjoyed his run with Mr. Withells +and Mr. Withells enjoyed being consulted about +Hugo's plans. He felt real sympathy for a +young man whose health, ruined by one bad +station after another, had forced him to give up +his career in India. He suggested various ameliorating +treatments to Hugo, who received his +advice with respectful gratitude, and they arranged +to drive again together on Saturday, +which was next day but one.</p> + +<p>Hugo sought the sofa in the drawing-room for<!-- Page 295 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span> +a quiet hour before dinner and lit a cigar. He +had hardly realised his pleasantly tired and +rather somnolent condition when his daughter +entered carrying a large Teddy-bear, two dolls, +a toy trumpet and a box containing a wooden +tea-set. She dropped several of these articles +just inside the door. "Come and help me pick +up my sings," she commanded. "I've come to +play wis loo, Daddie."</p> + +<p>Hugo did not move. He was fond of little +Fay; he admired her good looks and her splendid +health, but he didn't in the least desire her society +just then.</p> + +<p>"Poor Daddie's tired," he said in his "saddest" +tone. "I think you'd better go and play in the +nursery with Tony."</p> + +<p>"No," said little Fay, "Tony's not zere; <em>loo</em> +mus' play wis me. Or"—she added as a happy +alternative—"loo can tell me sumfin instastin."</p> + +<p>"Surely," said Hugo, "it's your bed-time?"</p> + +<p>"No," little Fay answered, and the letters +were never formed that could express the finality +of that "no," "Med will fesh me when it's time. +I've come to play wis <em>loo</em>. Det up, Daddie; +loo can't play p'oply lying zere."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I can," Hugo protested eagerly. +"You bring all your nice toys one by one and +show them to me."</p> + +<p>"'At," she remarked with great scorn, "would +be a velly stupid game. Det up!"</p> + +<p>"Why can't Meg play with you?" Hugo asked +irritably. "What's she doing?"</p> + +<p>Little Fay stared at her father. She was un<!-- Page 296 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span>accustomed +to be addressed in that tone, and +she resented it. Earley and Mr. Burgess were +her humble slaves. Captain Middleton did as +he was told and became an elephant, a camel, +or a polar bear on the shortest notice, moreover +he threw himself into the part with real goodwill +and enjoyment. The lazy man lying there +on the sofa, who showed no flattering pleasure +in her society, must be roused to a sense of his +shortcomings. She seized the Teddy-bear, swung +it round her head and brought it down with a +resounding thump on Hugo's chest. "Det up," +she said more loudly. "Loo don't seem to know +any stolies, so you <em>mus'</em> play wis me."</p> + +<p>Hugo swung his legs off the sofa and sat up +to recover his breath, which had been knocked +out of him by the Teddy-bear.</p> + +<p>"You're a very rude little girl," he said crossly. +"You'll have to be punished if you do that sort +of thing."</p> + +<p>"What sort of sing?"</p> + +<p>"What you did just now; it's very naughty +indeed."</p> + +<p>"What nelse?"</p> + +<p>Little Fay stood with her head on one side +like an inquisitive sparrow. One of the things +she had not dropped was the tin trumpet. She +raised it to her lips now, and blew a blast that +went through Hugo's head like a knife.</p> + +<p>He snatched it from her. "You're not to do +that," he said. "I can't stand it. Go and pick +up those other things and show them to me."</p> + +<p>"Loo can see zem from here."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 297 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span> +"Not what's in the box," he suggested diplomatically.</p> + +<p>"I'm tah'ed too," she said, suddenly sitting +down on the floor. "You fesh 'em."</p> + +<p>"Will you play with them if I do?"</p> + +<p>She shook her head. "Not if loo're closs, and +lude and naughty and ... stupid."</p> + +<p>Hugo groaned and stalked over to collect the +two dolls and the tea-things. He brought them +back and put them down on one end of the sofa +while he sat down at the other.</p> + +<p>"Now," he said, "show me how you play with +them."</p> + +<p>His cigar had gone out and he struck a match +to light it again. Little Fay scrambled to her +feet and blew it out before he had touched his +cigar with it.</p> + +<p>"Adain," she said joyously. "Make anozer +light."</p> + +<p>He struck another match, but sheltered it +with his hand till he'd got his cigar going, his +daughter blowing vigorously all the time.</p> + +<p>"Now," she said, "you can be a nengine and +I'll be the tlain."</p> + +<p>Round that drawing-room the unfortunate +Hugo ran, encouraged in his efforts by blasts +upon the trumpet. The chairs were arranged as +carriages, the dolls as passengers, and the box of +tea-things was luggage. None of these transformations +were suggested by Hugo, but little +Fay had played the game so often under Meg's +brilliant supervision that she knew all the properties +by heart.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 298 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span> +At the end of fifteen minutes Hugo was thoroughly +exhausted and audibly thanked God +when Meg appeared to fetch her charge. But +he hadn't finished even then, for little Fay, +aided and abetted by Meg, insisted that every +single thing should be tidily put back exactly +where it was before.</p> + +<p>At the door, just as they were on the point of +departure, Meg paused. "You must enjoy +having her all to yourself for a little while," she +said in honeyed, sympathetic tones such as +Hugo, certainly, had never heard from her before. +"I fear we've been rather selfish about +it, but for the future we must not forget that +you have the first right to her.... Did you +kiss your dear Daddie, my darling?"</p> + +<hr class="space" /> + +<p>Through the shut door Hugo heard his +daughter's voice proclaiming in lofty, pitying +tones, "Pooah Daddie velly stupid man, he was +a velly bad nengine, he did it all long."</p> + +<p>"Damn!" said Hugo Tancred.</p> + +<hr class="space" /> + +<p>During dinner that night Jan talked continually +about the children. She consulted Hugo +as to things in which he took not the smallest +interest, such as what primers he considered +the best for earliest instruction in reading, and +whether he thought the Montessori method advantageous +or not.</p> + +<p>As they sat over dessert he volunteered the remark +that little Fay was rather an exhausting child.</p> + +<p>"All children are," Jan answered, "and I've<!-- Page 299 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span> +just been thinking that while you are here to +help me, it would be such a good chance to give +Meg a little holiday. She has not had a day off +since I came back from India, and it would be +so nice for her to go to Cheltenham for a few +days to see Major Morton."</p> + +<p>"But surely," Hugo said uneasily, "that's +what she's here for, to look after the children. +She's very highly paid; you could get a good +nurse for half what you pay her."</p> + +<p>"I doubt it, and you must remember that, +because she loved Fay, she is accepting less +than half of what she could earn elsewhere to +help me with Fay's children."</p> + +<p>"Of course, if you import sentiment into the +matter you must pay for it."</p> + +<p>"But I fear that's just what I don't do."</p> + +<p>"My dear Jan, you must forgive me if I venture +to think that both you and your father, +and even Fay, were quite absurd about Meg +Morton. She's a nice enough little girl, but +nothing so very wonderful, and as for her needing +a holiday after a couple of months of the +very soft job she has with you ... that's sheer +nonsense."</p> + +<p>There was silence for a minute. Hugo took +another chocolate and said, "You know I don't +believe in having children all over the place. +The nursery is the proper place for them when +they're little, and school is the proper place—most +certainly the proper place, anyway, for a +boy—as soon as ever any school can be found to +take him."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 300 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span> +"I quite agree with you as to the benefit of a +good school," Jan said sweetly. "I am painfully +conscious myself of how much I lost in never +having had any regular education. Have you +thought yet what preparatory school you'd prefer +for Tony?"</p> + +<p>"Hardly yet. I've not been home long enough, +and, as you know, at present, I've no money at +all...."</p> + +<p>"I shall be most pleased to help with Tony's +education, but in that case I should expect to +have some voice in the school selected."</p> + +<p>"Certainly, certainly," Hugo agreed. "But +what I really want to know is what you propose +to do to help me to attain a position in which I +<em>can</em> educate my children as we both should +wish."</p> + +<p>"I don't quite see where I come in."</p> + +<p>"My dear Jan, that's absurd. You have +money—and a few hundreds now will start me +again...."</p> + +<p>"Start you again in what direction?"</p> + +<p>"That's what we've got to thresh out. I've +several propositions to lay before you."</p> + +<p>"All propositions will have to be submitted +to Mr. Davidson."</p> + +<p>"That's nonsense. You must remember that +I could contest Fay's will if I liked—it was grossly +unfair to leave that two thousand pounds away +from me."</p> + +<p>"She left it to her children, Hugo, and <em>you</em> +must remember you spent eight thousand pounds +of her money."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 301 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</a></span> +"<em>I</em> didn't spend it. Do you think <em>I</em> benefited? +The investments were unfortunate, I grant you, +but that's not to say I had it."</p> + +<p>"Anyway that money is gone."</p> + +<p>"And the sooner I set about making some +more to replace it the better, but I must have +help."</p> + +<p>"It takes every penny of my income to run +things here."</p> + +<p>"Well, you know, Jan, to be quite candid, I +think it's rather ridiculous of you to live here. +You could let this place easily and for a good +rent. In a smaller house you'd be equally comfortable +and in easier circumstances. I'm not +at all sure I approve of my children being brought +up with the false ideas they will inevitably acquire +if they continue to live in a big place like +this."</p> + +<p>"You see, Hugo, it happens to be my house, +and I'm fond of it."</p> + +<p>"No doubt, but if you make a fetish of the +house, if the house stands in the way of your +helping your own flesh and blood...."</p> + +<p>"I don't think I've ever refused to help my +<em>own</em> relations."</p> + +<p>"Which means, I suppose, that your sister's +husband is nothing to you."</p> + +<p>Jan rose. "You are rather unjust, I think," +she said quietly. "I must put the children first."</p> + +<p>"And suppose you marry——"</p> + +<p>"I certainly wouldn't marry any man who +would object to my doing all I could for my +sister's children."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 302 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[302]</a></span> +"You think so now, but wait till a man comes +along. You're just getting to the age, Jan, when +a woman is most apt to make a fool of herself +over a man. And, remember this, I'd much +rather my children were brought up simply with +my people in Guernsey than that they should +grow up with all sorts of false ideas with nothing +to back them."</p> + +<p>Jan clenched her teeth, and though outwardly +she was silent, her soul was repeating, "I <em>will</em> +not fear," over and over again.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you are right, Hugo," she said +quietly. "You must arrange as you think best; +only please remember that you can hardly expect +me to contribute to the keeping of the children +if I am allowed no voice in their upbringing. +Have you consulted your parents as to +their living with them in Guernsey? Shall we +go out? It's such a beautiful evening."</p> + +<p>Hugo followed her into the hall and out into +the garden. Involuntarily he looked after her +with considerable admiration. She held herself +well, that quiet woman. She waited for him in +the drive, and as she did so Tony's words came +back to her: "I used to feel frightened inside, +but I wouldn't let him know it, and then—it +was funny—but quite sunnly I wasn't frightened +any more. You try it."</p> + +<hr class="space" /> + +<p>Jan had tried it, and, again to quote Tony, +"it just happened."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 303 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[303]</a></span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER XXIV<br /> +<span class="sub">"THE WAY OF A MAN WITH A MAID"</span></h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">P</span>ETER began to feel annoyed. More and +more clearly did he realise that his chief +object in coming home was to see Jan again; +and here was he, still in London in the third week +of June, and never so much as a glimpse of her.</p> + +<p>Her last letter, too, had postponed his visit +indefinitely, and he almost thought she was not +treating him quite fairly. It was, of course, a +confounded bore that Hugo Tancred should have +turned up just now, but Peter saw no reason for +staying away for ever on that account. He +knew Wren's End was a good-sized house, and +though he appreciated Jan's understanding of +the fact that he wouldn't exactly choose to be +a fellow-guest with such a thoroughly bad hat +as Hugo Tancred, still he considered it was laying +too much stress upon the finer shades of +feeling to keep him away so long.</p> + +<p>His aunt was delighted to have him; London +was very pleasant; he had dined out quite a +number of times, attended some big parties, seen +all the best plays, and bought or ordered all +the new clothes he needed, and a good deal that +he didn't need at all. He had also bought a +motor to take out with him. It was more than +time to get within range of the main objective +of his leave.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 304 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[304]</a></span> +Suggestions that Jan <em>must</em> have shopping to do +and might as well come up for a day or two to +do it only elicited the reply that she had no money +for shopping and that it was most unlikely that +she would be in London again for ages.</p> + +<p>She hadn't answered his last letter, either, +which was another grievance.</p> + +<p>Then came a letter with the Amber Guiting post-mark, +and in a handwriting he did not know—a +funny little, clear, square handwriting with character +in every stroke.</p> + +<p>He opened it and read:</p> + +<div class="letter"> +<p class="smcap">"Dear Mr. Ledgard,</p> + +<p>"It is just possible you may have heard of me +from Mrs. Tancred or Miss Ross, but in case you +haven't I will explain that I am nurse to the little +Tancreds and that Miss Ross is my dearest friend. +I think it would be a very good thing if you came +down to see her, for her brother-in-law is here, +and I am never quite sure what he might persuade +her to do if he put the screw on about the +children. There is a comfortable inn called 'The +Green Hart,' and there's another called 'The Full +Basket,' but I fear you'd not get a room there as +it's very small and always chock-full at this time +of year with fishing people.</p> + +<p>"You see, if you came down to 'The Green +Hart,' Jan couldn't say anything, for you've a +perfect right to stay there if you choose, and I +know it would help her and strengthen her hands +to talk things over with you. She has spoken +much of your kindness to them all in India.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 305 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[305]</a></span> +"Do you fish, I wonder? I'm sure Squire +Walcote would be amiable to any friend of Jan's.</p> + +<p class="ralign"><span class="pad-r3">"Believe me, yours truly,</span><br /> +"<span class="smcap">Margaret Morton</span>."</p> +</div> + +<p>Peter put the letter in his pocket and left the +rest of his correspondence till after breakfast, +and his aunt decided that he really was a most +amusing and agreeable companion, and that she +must have been mistaken last night in thinking +he seemed rather depressed and worried.</p> + +<p>After breakfast he went out to send a reply-paid +telegram, and then to the garage, where he +kept his car. Among other places he drove to +"Hardy Brothers" in Pall Mall, where he stayed +over an hour.</p> + +<p>By the time he got back to Artillery Mansions +it was lunch time. More letters awaited him, also +a telegram.</p> + +<p>During lunch he mentioned casually that he +was going down into the country for the week-end +to fish. He was going to motor down.</p> + +<p>"Yes," in answer to his aunt's inquiry, "I do +know people down there, but I'm not going to +stay with them. I'm going to the inn—one's +freer, you know, and if the sport's good I may +stay on a few days."</p> + +<hr class="space" /> + +<p>Mr. Withells came again for Hugo on Saturday +morning and proposed a run right over to Cheltenham +for a rose show. Hugo declined the rose +show, but gratefully accepted the drive. He +would potter about the town while Mr. Withells<!-- Page 306 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[306]</a></span> +inspected the flowers. The Grange head-gardener +had several exhibits, and was to be taken on the +front seat.</p> + +<p>They started soon after breakfast and would +be gone the whole day, for it was an hour and +three-quarters run by road and two by train.</p> + +<p>"I wish he had offered to take you," Jan said +to Meg when the big motor had vanished out of +the drive. "It would have been so nice for you +to see Major Morton."</p> + +<p>"And sit bodkin between Hugo and Mr. Withells +or on one of those horrid little folding-seats—no, +thank you! When I go to see my poor +little papa I shall go by train by myself. I'll +choose a day when their dear father can help you +with the children."</p> + +<p>After lunch Meg began to find fault with Jan's +appearance. "I simply won't see you in that +old grey skirt a minute longer—go and put on a +white frock—a nice white frock. You've got +plenty."</p> + +<p>"Who is always grumbling about the washing? +Besides, I want to garden."</p> + +<p>"You can't garden this afternoon. On such a +lovely day it's your duty to dress in accordance +with it. I'm going to clean up my children, and +then we'll all go down to the post-office to buy +stamps and show ourselves. <em>You</em> ought to call +on Lady Mary—you know you ought. Go and +change, and then come and see if I approve of +you. You might leave a card at the vicarage, +too. I know they're going to the rose show, so +you'd be quite safe."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 307 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[307]</a></span> +"You're a nuisance, Meg," Jan complained. +"Let you and little Fay go swanking down the +village if you like, but why can't you leave +Tony and me to potter comfortably in our old +clothes?"</p> + +<p>"I'm tired of your old clothes; I want you to +look decent for once. You haven't done anything +I asked you for ages. You might as well +do this."</p> + +<p>Jan sighed. "It seems rather absurd when you +yourself say every soul we know will be at the +flower show."</p> + +<p>"I never said anything of the kind. I said +Mrs. Fream was going to the flower show. Hurry +up, Jan."</p> + +<hr class="space" /> + +<p>"Well, will I do? Will I satisfy the hedges and +ditches, do you think?" Jan asked later, as she +appeared in the hall clad in the white raiment +Meg had commanded.</p> + +<p>Meg turned her round. "Very nice indeed," +she said. "I'm glad you put on the expensive +one. It's funny why the very plain things cost +such a lot. I like the black hat with your white +hair. Yes, I consent to take you out; I don't +mind owning you for my missus. Children, come +and admire Auntie Jan."</p> + +<p>Jan dutifully delivered a card at the vicarage, +and the nursery party left her to walk up the +Manor drive alone. Lady Mary was in, and +pleased to see her, but she only stayed a quarter +of an hour, because Meg had made her promise +to meet them again in the village. They were<!-- Page 308 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[308]</a></span> +to have tea in the garden with the children and +make it a little festival.</p> + +<p>What a funny little thing Meg was, she thought +as she strolled down the drive under the splendid +beeches. So determined to have her own way in +small things, such an incarnation of self-sacrifice +in big ones.</p> + +<p>A man was standing just outside the great +gates in a patch of black shade thrown by a holly-tree +in the lodge garden. Jan was long-sighted, +and something in the figure and its pose caused +her to stop suddenly. He wore the usual grey +summer suit and a straw hat. Yet he reminded +her of somebody, but him she had always seen in +a topee, out of doors.</p> + +<p>Of course it was only a resemblance—but what +was he waiting there for?</p> + +<p>He moved out from the patch of shade and +looked up the drive through the open gates. He +took off his hat and waved it, and came quickly +towards her.</p> + +<p>"I couldn't wait any longer," he said. "I +won't be the least bit of a nuisance. I've come +to fish, and I'm staying at 'The Green Hart'.... +And how are you?"</p> + +<p>She could never make it out, when she thought +it over afterwards, but Jan found herself standing +with both her hands in his and her beautiful +black parasol tumbled unheeded in the dust.</p> + +<p>"I happened to meet the children and Miss +Morton, and they asked me to tell you they've +gone home. They also invited me to tea."</p> + +<p>"So do I," said Jan.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 309 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[309]</a></span> +"I should hardly have known Tony," he continued; +"he looks capital. And as for little Fay—she's +a picture, but she always was."</p> + +<p>"Did they know you?"</p> + +<p>"<em>Did</em> they know me!"</p> + +<p>"Were they awfully pleased?"</p> + +<p>"They were ever so jolly; even Tony shouted."</p> + +<p>At the lodge they met the Squire. Jan introduced +Peter and explained that he had just come +down for a few days' fishing and was staying at +"The Green Hart." The Squire proffered advice +as to the best flies and a warning that he must +not hope for much sport. The Amber was a +difficult river, very; and variable; and it had +been a particularly dry June.</p> + +<p>Peter bore up under this depressing intelligence +and he and Jan walked on through warm, +scented lanes to Wren's End; and Peter looked +at Jan a good deal.</p> + +<p>Those who happened to be in London during +the season of 1914 will remember that it was a +period of powder and paint and frankest touching-up +of complexions. The young and pretty +were blackened and whitened and reddened quite +as crudely as the old and ugly. There was no +attempt at concealment. The faces of many +Mayfair ladies filled Peter with disrespectful astonishment. +He had not been home for four +years, and then nice girls didn't do that sort of +thing—much.</p> + +<p>Now one of Jan's best points was her complexion; +it was so fair and fresh. The touch of sunburn, +too, was becoming, for she didn't freckle.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 310 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[310]</a></span> +Peter found himself positively thankful to behold +a really clean face; a face, too, that just +then positively beamed with warm welcome and +frank pleasure.</p> + +<p>A clean face; a cool, clean frock; kind, candid +eyes and a gentle, sincere voice—yes, they were +all there just as he remembered them, just as he +had so often dreamt of them. Moreover, he decided +there and then that the Georgian ladies +knew what they were about when they powdered +their hair—white hair, he thought, was extraordinarily +becoming to a woman.</p> + +<p>"You are looking better than when I was in +Bombay. I think your leave must have done +you good already," said the kind, friendly voice.</p> + +<p>"I need a spell of country air, really to set me +up," said Peter.</p> + +<p>They had an hilarious tea with the children on +the Wren's lawn, and the tamest of the robins +hopped about on the step just to show that he +didn't care a fig for any of them.</p> + +<p>Meg was just going to take the children to bed +when Mr. Withells brought Hugo back. It was +an awkward moment. Peter knew far too much +about Hugo to simulate the smallest cordiality; +and Hugo was too well aware of some of the things +Peter knew to feel at all comfortable in his presence. +But he had no intention of giving way an +inch. He took the chair Meg had just vacated +and sat down. Mr. Withells, too, sat down for +a few minutes, and no sooner had he done so than +William dashed out from amongst them, and, returning, +was accompanied by Captain Middleton.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 311 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[311]</a></span> +"No tea, thank you. Just got down from town, +came with a message from my uncle—would Miss +Ross's friend care for a rod on the Manor water +on Monday? A brother officer who had been +coming had failed at the last minute—there was +room for four rods, but there wasn't a chance of +much sport."</p> + +<p>Miles was introduced to Peter and sat down +by him. The children rushed at Miles and, ably +impeded by William, swarmed over him in riotous +welcome, wholly regardless of their nurse's voice +which summoned them to bed.</p> + +<p>Meg stood waiting.</p> + +<p>"Miss Morton's father lives in Cheltenham," +Jan said to Mr. Withells, who seemed rather left +out. "She's going to see him on Tuesday—to +spend the day."</p> + +<p>"Then," said Mr. Withells in his clear staccato, +"she must take the 9.15—it's much the +best train in the day. And the 4.55 back. No +other trains are at all suitable. I hope you will +be guided by me in this matter, Miss Morton. +I've made the journey many times."</p> + +<p>So had Meg; but Mr. Withells always irritated +her to such an extent that had it been possible, +she would have declared her intention to go and +return by quite different trains. As it was, she +nodded pleasantly and said those were the very +trains she had selected.</p> + +<p>Miles thrust his head out from among the encompassing +three and respectfully implored Mr. +Withells' advice about trains to Cricklade, which +lay off the Cheltenham route, even going so far<!-- Page 312 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[312]</a></span> +as to note the hours of departure and arrival carefully +in a little book.</p> + +<p>Finally Meg came and disencumbered Miles of +the children and bore them away.</p> + +<p>When her voice took on a certain tone it was +as useless to cope with Meg as with Auntie Jan. +They knew this, and like wise children gave in +gracefully.</p> + +<p>Elaborate farewells had to be said to everybody, +and with a final warm embrace for Miles, +little Fay called to him "Tum and see me in my +baff."</p> + +<p>"Captain Middleton will have gone long before +you are ready for that," Meg said inhospitably, +and trying to look very tall and dignified she +walked up the three steps leading to the nursery. +But it is almost impossible to look imposing with +a lagging child dragging at each hand, and poor +Meg felt that her exit was far from effective.</p> + +<p>William settled himself comfortably across his +master's knees and in two minutes was snoring +softly.</p> + +<p>Miles manifested so keen an interest in Mr. +Withells' exhibits (he had got a second prize and +a highly commended) that the kindly little man +was quite attracted; and when Miles inquired +about trains to Cheltenham he gave him precisely +the same advice that he had given Meg.</p> + +<hr class="wide" /> + +<p>The station at Amber Guiting is seldom +crowded; it's on a shuttle line, and except on +market-day there is but little passenger traffic.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 313 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[313]</a></span> +Therefore a small young lady with rather conspicuously +red hair, a neat grey coat and skirt, a +shady grey straw hat trimmed with white clover +and green leaves, and a green parasol, was noticeable +upon the platform out of all proportion to +her size.</p> + +<p>The train was waiting. The lady entered an +empty third-class carriage, and sitting in the corner +with her back to the engine, shut herself in. +The train departed punctually, and she took out +from her bag a note-book which she studied with +frowning concentration.</p> + +<p>Ten minutes further down the line the train +stops again at Guiting Green, and here the young +lady looked out of the window to see whether +anyone was travelling that she recognised.</p> + +<p>There was. But it was impossible to judge +from the young lady's expression whether the +recognition gave her pleasure or not.</p> + +<p>She drew in her head very quickly, but not +before she had been seen.</p> + +<p>"Hullo, Miss Morton! Where are you going? +May I get in here?"</p> + +<p>"Aren't you travelling first?"</p> + +<p>"Not a bit of it. Sure you don't mind? How +jolly to have met you!"</p> + +<p>Miles looked so smiling, so big and well turned +out, and pleased with life, that Meg's severe expression +relaxed somewhat.</p> + +<p>"I suppose," she said, "you're just going to the +junction. But why come to Guiting Green?"</p> + +<p>"I came to Guiting Green because it's exactly +four miles from the Manor House. And I've<!-- Page 314 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[314]</a></span> +walked those four miles, Miss Morton, walked +'em for the good of my health. Wish it wasn't +so dusty, though—look at my boots! <em>I'm</em> going +to Cheltenham. Where are you going?"</p> + +<p>"Cheltenham?" Meg repeated suspiciously. +"What are you going to do there?"</p> + +<p>"I'm going to see about a horse—not a dog +this time—I hear that Smith's have got a horse +that may suit me; really up to my weight they +say it is, so I took the chance of going over while +I'm with my uncle—it's a lot nearer than town, +you know. But where are <em>you</em> going?"</p> + +<p>"I," said Meg, "am going to Cheltenham——"</p> + +<p>"To Cheltenham!" Miles exclaimed in rather +overdone astonishment. "What an extraordinary +coincidence! And what are <em>you</em> going to buy in +Cheltenham?"</p> + +<p>"I am going to see my father. I thought I had +told you he lives there."</p> + +<p>"So you did, of course. How stupid of me to +forget! Well, it's very jolly we should happen +to be going down together, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>They looked at one another, and Miles laughed.</p> + +<p>"I'm not at all sure that we ought to travel +together after we reach the junction, and I don't +believe you've got a third-class ticket." Meg +looked very prim.</p> + +<p>Miles produced his ticket—it <em>was</em> third-class.</p> + +<p>"There!" he said triumphantly.</p> + +<p>"You would be much more comfortable in a +smoker."</p> + +<p>"So would you. We'll take a smoker; I've +got the sort of cigarette you like."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 315 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[315]</a></span> +At the junction they got a smoker, and Miles +saw to it that they had it to themselves; he also +persuaded the guard to give Meg a square wooden +box to put her feet on, because he thought the +seats were too high for her.</p> + +<p>It seemed a very short journey.</p> + +<p>Major Morton was awaiting Meg when they +arrived; a little gentleman immaculately neat (it +was quite clear whence Meg got her love of detail +and finish)—who looked both washed-out and +dried-up. He embraced her with considerable +solemnity, exclaiming, "God bless you, my dear +child! You look better than I expected."</p> + +<p>"Papa, dear, here is Captain Middleton, a +friend from Amber Guiting. We happened to +travel together."</p> + +<p>"Pleased to meet you, sir," said the little Major +graciously; and somehow Miles contrived in two +minutes so to ingratiate himself with Meg's "poor +little papa" that they all walked out of the station +together as a matter of course.</p> + +<p>Then came the question of plans.</p> + +<p>Meg had shopping to do, declared she had a +list as long as her arm, but was entirely at her +father's disposal as to whether she should do it +before or after lunch.</p> + +<p>Miles boldly suggested she should do it now, at +once, while it was still fairly cool, and then she +could have all her parcels sent to the station to +meet her. He seemed quite eager to get rid of +Meg. The little Major agreed that this would +be the best course. He would stroll round to his +club while Meg was shopping, and meet her<!-- Page 316 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[316]</a></span> +when she thought she would have finished. They +walked to the promenade and dropped her at +Cavendish House. Miles, explaining that he had +to go to Smith's to look at a horse, asked for directions +from the Major. Their way was the same, +and without so much as bidding her farewell, +Miles strolled up one of the prettiest promenades +in England in company with her father. Meg +felt rather dazed.</p> + +<p>She prided herself on having reduced shopping +to a fine art, but to-day, somehow, she didn't get +through as quickly as usual, and there was a +number of items on her list still unticked when +it was time to meet her father just outside his +club at the top of the promenade.</p> + +<p>Major Morton was the essence of punctuality. +Meg flew to meet him, and found he had waited +five minutes. He was not, however, upset, as +might have been expected. He took her to his +rooms in a quiet terrace behind the promenade +and comfortably near his club. The sun-blinds +were down outside his sitting-room windows, and +the room seemed cool and pleasant.</p> + +<p>Then it was that Meg discovered that her +father was looking at her in quite a new way. +Almost, in fact, as though he had never seen her +before.</p> + +<p>Was it her short hair? she wondered.</p> + +<p>Yet that was not very noticeable under such a +shady hat.</p> + +<p>Major Morton had vigorously opposed the +nursemaid scheme. To the sympathetic ladies +who attended the same strictly evangelical church<!-- Page 317 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[317]</a></span> +of which he was a pillar, he confided that his only +daughter did not care for "a quiet domestic life." +It was a grief to him—but, after all, parents are +shelved nowadays; every girl wants to "live her +own life," and he would be the last man to stand +in the way of his child's happiness. The ladies +felt very sorry for Major Morton and indignant +with the hard-hearted, unfilial Meg. They did +not realise that had Meg lived with her father—in +rooms—and earned nothing, the Major's delicate +digestion might occasionally have suffered, +and Meg would undoubtedly have been half-starved.</p> + +<p>To-day, however, he was more hopeful about +Meg than he had been for a long time. Since +the Trent episode he had ceased even to imagine +her possible marriage. By her own headstrong +folly she had ruined all her chances. "The weariful +rich" who had got her the post did not spare +him this aspect of her deplorable conduct. To-day, +however, there was a rift in these dark clouds +of consequence.</p> + +<p>Captain Middleton—he only knows how—had +persuaded Major Morton to go with him to see +the horse, had asked his quite useless advice, and +had subtly and insidiously conveyed to the Major, +without one single incriminating sentence, a very +clear idea as to his own feelings for the Major's +daughter.</p> + +<p>Major Morton felt cheered.</p> + +<p>He had no idea who Miles really was, but he +had remarked the gunner tie, and, asking to what +part of the Royal Regiment Miles belonged, de<!-- Page 318 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[318]</a></span>cided +that no mere pauper could be a Horse-Gunner.</p> + +<p>He regarded his daughter with new eyes.</p> + +<p>She was undoubtedly attractive. He discovered +certain resemblances to himself that he had +never noticed before.</p> + +<p>Then he informed her that he had promised +they would both lunch with her agreeable friend +at the Queen's Hotel: "He made such a point of +it," said Major Morton, "I could hardly refuse; +begged us to take pity on his loneliness, and so +on—and I'm feeling rather better to-day."</p> + +<p>Meg decided that the tide of fate was too strong +for her, she must just drift with it.</p> + +<p>It was a most pleasant lunch, save for one incident. +Lady Penelope Pottinger and her husband, +accompanied by Lottie Trent and a man, +were lunching at another table.</p> + +<p>Lady Penelope's party came in late. Miles and +his guests had already arrived at coffee when they +appeared.</p> + +<p>They had to pass Miles' table, and Lady Penelope +stopped; so did her husband. She shook +hands with Meg. Miss Trent passed by with +her nose in the air.</p> + +<p>Miles presented his relations to the Major and +they passed on.</p> + +<p>The Major was quite pleased and rather flattered. +He had no idea that the tall young +woman with Lady Penelope had deliberately cut +his host. But Meg knew just why she had done +it.</p> + +<p>After lunch Miles very properly effaced him<!-- Page 319 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[319]</a></span>self, +but made a point of asking the Major if he +might act as Miss Morton's escort on the journey +back to Amber Guiting.</p> + +<p>The Major graciously accompanied Meg while +she did the rest of her shopping, and in the promenade +they met the Pottinger party again.</p> + +<p>The 4.55 was crowded. Miles collected Meg's +parcels and suggested to the Major that it would +be less tiring for his daughter if they returned +first-class. Should he change the tickets?</p> + +<p>The Major thought it a sensible proposition, +especially with all those parcels. Meg would pay +Captain Middleton the difference.</p> + +<p>Again an amiable porter secured them an empty +carriage. The parcels spread themselves luxuriously +upon the unoccupied seats. The Major +kissed his daughter and gave her his benediction, +shaking hands quite warmly with her "pleasant +young friend."</p> + +<p>The 4.55 runs right up to the junction without +a stop. Meg took off her best hat and placed it +carefully in the rack. She leaned her bewildered +head against the cushions and closed her eyes. +She would drift with the tide just a few minutes +more, and then——</p> + +<p>Miles put a box of groceries for Lady Mary +under her feet. She smiled faintly, but did not +speak.</p> + +<p>Presently she opened her eyes to find him regarding +her with that expression she had surprised +once or twice before, and never understood.</p> + +<p>"Tired?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Only pleasantly. I think I've only travelled<!-- Page 320 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[320]</a></span> +first-class about five times in my life before—and +then it was with Mr. Ross."</p> + +<p>"And now it's with me, and I hope it's the first +of many."</p> + +<p>"You say very odd things."</p> + +<p>"What I mean isn't in the least odd—it's the +most natural thing in the world."</p> + +<p>"What is?"</p> + +<p>"To want to go on travelling with you."</p> + +<p>"If you're going to talk nonsense, I shall go to +sleep again."</p> + +<p>"No, I don't think I can allow you to go to +sleep. I want you to wake up and face facts."</p> + +<p>"Facts?"</p> + +<p>"A fact."</p> + +<p>"Facts are sometimes very unpleasant."</p> + +<p>"I hope the fact I want you to face isn't exactly +that—if it is ... then I'm ... a jolly miserable +chap. Miss Morton—Meg—you must see +how it is with me—you must know that you're +dearer to me than anything on earth. I think +your father tumbled to it—and I don't think he +minded ... that I should want you for my wife."</p> + +<p>"My poor little papa would be relieved to think +that anyone could...."</p> + +<p>"Could what?"</p> + +<p>"Care for me ... in that way."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense! But I'm exceedingly glad to have +met your father."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Because I wanted to meet him."</p> + +<p>"Again, why?"</p> + +<p>"Because he's your father."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 321 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[321]</a></span> +"Did you observe that Miss Lotty Trent cut +you dead at the Queen's to-day?"</p> + +<p>"I did notice it, and, like you, I wonder why."</p> + +<p>"I can tell you."</p> + +<p>"I don't think you'd better bother. Miss +Trent's opinion of me really doesn't matter——"</p> + +<p>"It was because you were with me."</p> + +<p>"But what a silly reason—if it is a reason."</p> + +<p>"Captain Middleton, will you answer a question +quite truthfully?"</p> + +<p>"I'll try."</p> + +<p>"What have you heard about me in connection +with the Trents?"</p> + +<p>"Not much, and that I don't believe."</p> + +<p>"But you must believe it, some of it. It may +not be so bad—as it might have been—but I put +myself entirely in the wrong. I deceived Mrs. +Trent and I did a thing no girl in her senses ought +to have done."</p> + +<p>"Look here, Meg," said Miles, leaning forward. +"I don't want to know anything you don't choose +to tell me; but since you <em>are</em> on the subject—what +did happen between you and that ... and +Walter Brooke?"</p> + +<p>Meg, too, leant forward; the express swayed +and lurched. Their faces were very near; their +eyes met and held each other in a long, searching +gaze on the one side and an answering look of +absolute candour on the other.</p> + +<p>"I promised to go away with him, and I went +away a few miles, and something came over me +that I couldn't go any further, and I broke my +promise and ran away. Jan knows it's true, for<!-- Page 322 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[322]</a></span> +it was to them I went. But the Trents would +never believe it, though Mr. Ross saw Mrs. Trent +herself, and told her exactly what had happened. +And I daresay ... they are quite justified."</p> + +<p>"And how many times have you seen him +since?"</p> + +<p>"Never till the other day, when he nearly ran +over William."</p> + +<p>"And how long ago is it since all this happened?"</p> + +<p>"Nearly six years."</p> + +<p>"Don't you think it's about time you put it +all out of your mind?"</p> + +<p>"I had put it out of my mind ... till ... +you came."</p> + +<p>"It didn't make any difference to me."</p> + +<p>"I shall never forget that," Meg said, so low +that the rattle of the train wholly drowned her +remark, but it couldn't conceal her smile.</p> + +<p>Miles lost his head. He kneeled down plump +on the floor of that compartment and took her +in his arms and kissed her.</p> + +<hr class="wide" /> + +<p>"All the same, I don't believe I can marry +you," she said later.</p> + +<p>"Why on earth not?"</p> + +<p>"Because I don't think I'm a suitable wife for +you."</p> + +<p>"Surely I'm the best judge of that."</p> + +<p>"No, you're not a judge at all. You think +you're in love with me...."</p> + +<p>"I'm hanged if I do—I <em>know</em>."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 323 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[323]</a></span> +"Because you're sorry for me——"</p> + +<p>"On the contrary, I'm sorry for myself. I +think you're a hard-hearted ... obstinate ... +little...."</p> + +<p>Mr. Withells would have been scandalised at +the conduct of Miles. He would undoubtedly +have described it as both "insanitary and improper."</p> + +<p>"Oh, please listen!" Meg gasped. "Perhaps a +long time hence ... if you're still of the same +mind...."</p> + +<p>"Anyway, may I tell people?"</p> + +<p>"Not a soul. I won't have my Jan worried +just now. I've undertaken those children ... +and she's having a bad time with that brother-in-law——"</p> + +<p>"I say, Meg, what is it about that chap Tancred? +I can't stick him.... Is he a bad egg, +or what?"</p> + +<p>"He is...."</p> + +<p>"Poor Miss Ross! But why does she have +him there?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's a long story—and here we are at the +junction, and I'm not going on first to Amber +Guiting—so there!"</p> + +<hr class="space" /> + +<p>Jan in the pony-cart was waiting outside when +Meg came from the little station. Captain Middleton +followed in her train, laden with parcels +like a Father Christmas.</p> + +<p>He packed her and the parcels in, covered both +the ladies with the dust-holland, announced that +he had bought a charger, and waited to get into<!-- Page 324 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[324]</a></span> +the Manor motor till they had driven out of the +station.</p> + +<p>They neither of them spoke till they had turned +into the road. Then Jan quoted softly: "When +I go to see my poor little papa, I shall go by +train <em>by myself</em>."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 325 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[325]</a></span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER XXV<br /> +<span class="sub">A DEMONSTRATION IN FORCE</span></h2> + +<p><span class="dropcap">H</span>UGO was dissatisfied. So far, beyond a +miserable ten pounds to buy some clothes, +he had got no money out of Jan; and he was getting +bored.</p> + +<p>To be sure, he still had most of the ten pounds, +for he had gone and ordered everything in the +market-town, where the name of Ross was considered +safe as the Bank of England. So he +hadn't paid for anything.</p> + +<p>Then there was that fellow Ledgard—what did +he want hanging about, pretending to fish? He +was after Jan and her money, that was his game.</p> + +<p>But however clear Peter Ledgard's nefarious +intentions might be, Hugo confessed his sister-in-law +puzzled him. She wasn't nearly as much +afraid of him as he had expected. She was always +gentle and courteous, but under the soft +exterior he had occasionally felt a rock of determination, +that was disconcerting.</p> + +<p>He had ceased to harp upon the string of his +desolation. Somehow Jan contrived to show him +that she didn't believe in it, and yet she never +said one word to which he could take exception.</p> + +<p>It was awkward that his own people were all of +them so unsympathetic about the children. His +father and mother declared themselves to be too<!-- Page 326 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[326]</a></span> +old to undertake them unless Hugo could pay +liberally for their board and for a thoroughly +capable nurse. Neither of his sisters would entertain +the idea at all; and both wrote pointing +out that until Hugo was able to make a home for +them himself, he would be most foolish to interfere +with the arrangements of a devoted aunt who +appeared not only willing but anxious to assume +their entire maintenance.</p> + +<p>He had told his people that his health forced +him to relinquish his work in India. His brothers-in-law, +although they had no idea of the real +cause, thought there was something fishy about +this, and were unsympathetic.</p> + +<p>Peter got at the doctor, and the doctor declared +sea-air to be the one thing necessary to insure +Hugo's complete restoration to health. Jan happened +to mention that her brother-in-law's people +lived in Guernsey, close to the shore. The doctor +said he couldn't do better than go and stay with +them, and that the journey wouldn't hurt him a +bit.</p> + +<p>Still Hugo appeared reluctant to leave Wren's +End.</p> + +<p>Peter came one day and demanded a business +talk with him. It was a most unpleasant conversation. +Peter declared on Jan's behalf that she +was quite ready to help him to some new start in +life, but that if it meant a partnership in any +rubber plantation, fruit-farm, or business of any +sort whatsoever, the money required must be +paid through her lawyer directly into the hands +of the planter, farmer, or merchant concerned.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 327 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[327]</a></span> +Hugo declared such an offer to be an insult. +Peter replied that it was a great deal better than +he deserved or could expect; and that he, personally, +thought Miss Ross very silly to make it; +but she did make it, and attached to its acceptance +was a clause to the effect that until he could +show he was in a position to maintain his family +in comfort, he was to give their aunt an undertaking +that he would not interfere with her arrangements +for the welfare of the children.</p> + +<p>"I see no reason," said Hugo, "why you should +interfere between my sister-in-law and me, but, +of course, any fool could see what you're after. +<em>You</em> want her money, and when you've married +her, I suppose my poor children are to be thrown +out into the street, and me too far off to see after +them."</p> + +<p>"Up to now," Peter retorted, "you have shown +no particular desire to 'see after' your children. +Why are you such a fool, Tancred? Why don't +you thankfully accept Miss Ross's generous offer, +and try to make a fresh start?"</p> + +<p>"It's no business of yours what I do."</p> + +<p>"Certainly not, but your sister-in-law's peace +and happiness is my business, because I have the +greatest admiration, respect and liking for her."</p> + +<p>"<i lang="fr">Les beaux yeux de sa cassette</i>," growled Hugo.</p> + +<p>"You <em>are</em> an ass," Peter said wearily. "And +you know very little of Miss Ross if you haven't +seen by this time ..." Peter stopped.</p> + +<p>"Well, go on."</p> + +<p>"No," said Peter, "I won't go on, for it's running +my horses on a rock. Think it over, that's<!-- Page 328 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[328]</a></span> +all. But remember the offer does not remain +open indefinitely."</p> + +<p>"Well, and if I choose to refuse it and go to +law and <em>take</em> my children—what then?"</p> + +<p>"No court in England would give you their +custody."</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"Because you couldn't show means to support +them, and we could produce witnesses to prove +that you are not a fit person to have the custody +of children."</p> + +<p>"We should see about that."</p> + +<p>"Well, think it over. It's your affair, you +know." And Peter went away, leaving Hugo to +curse and bite his nails in impotent rage. Peter +really was far from conciliatory.</p> + +<p>Jan needed a fright, Hugo decided; that's what +she wanted to bring her to heel. And before +very long he'd see that she got it. She shouldn't +shelter herself for ever behind that supercilious +beast, Ledgard. Hugo was quite ready to have +been pleasant to Jan and to have met her more +than half-way if she was reasonable, but since she +had chosen to bring Ledgard into it, she should +pay. After all, she was only a woman, and you +can always frighten a woman if you go the right +way about it. It was damned bad luck that +Ledgard should have turned up just now. It +was Ledgard he'd got to thank that Fay had +made that infamously unjust will by which she +left the remnant of her money to her children +and not to her husband. Oh yes! he'd a lot to +thank Ledgard for. Well, he wouldn't like it<!-- Page 329 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[329]</a></span> +when Jan got hurt. Ledgard was odd about +women. He couldn't bear to see them worried; +he couldn't bear to see Fay worried, interfered +then. A blank, blank, blank interfering chap, +Ledgard was. <em>What Jan needed was a real good +scare.</em></p> + +<p>They suggested Guernsey. Well, he'd go to +Guernsey, and he wouldn't go alone. Hugo thoroughly +enjoyed a plot. The twilight world that +had been so difficult and perplexing to poor Fay +had for him a sort of exciting charm. Wren's +End had become dreadfully dull. For the first +week or two, while he felt so ill, it had been restful. +Now its regular hours and ordered tranquillity +were getting on his nerves. All those +portraits of his wife, too, worried him. He could +go into no room where the lovely face, with youth's +wistful wonder as to what life held, did not confront +him with a reminder that the wife he had +left to die in Bombay did not look in the least +like that.</p> + +<p>There were few things in his life save miscalculation +that he regretted. But he did feel uncomfortable +when he remembered Fay—so trustful +always, so ready to help him in any difficulty. +People liked her; even women liked her in spite +of her good looks, and Hugo had found the world +a hard, unfriendly place since her death.</p> + +<p>The whole thing was getting on his nerves. It +was time to shuffle the cards and have a new deal.</p> + +<p>He packed his suit-case which had been so +empty when he arrived, and waited for a day +when Peter had taken Jan, Meg and the children<!-- Page 330 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[330]</a></span> +for a motor run to a neighbouring town. He took +care to see that Earley was duly busy in the +kitchen garden, and the maids safely at the back +of the house. Then he carried it to the lodge +gate himself and waited for a passing tradesman's +cart. Fortune favoured him; the butcher came +up with (had Hugo known it) veal cutlets for +Hugo's own dinner. Hugo tipped the butcher +and asked him to leave the suit-case at the station +to be sent on as carted luggage to its address.</p> + +<p>Next morning he learned that Tony was to go +with Earley to fetch extra cream from Mr. Burgess' +farm.</p> + +<p>It was unfortunate that he couldn't get any of +Tony's clothes without causing comment. He +had tried the day before, but beyond a jersey and +two little vests (which happened to be little Fay's), +he had been unable to find anything. Well, Jan +would be glad enough to send Tony's clothes when +he let her know where they were to be sent. +Tony had changed a good deal from the silent, +solemn child he had disliked in India. He was +franker and more talkative. Sometimes Hugo +felt that the child wasn't such a bad little chap, +after all. But the very evident understanding +between Jan and Tony filled Hugo with a dull +sort of jealousy. He had never tried to win the +child, but nevertheless he resented the fact that +Tony's attitude to Jan and Meg was one of perfect +trust and friendliness. He never looked at +them with the strange judging, weighing look +that Hugo hated so heartily.</p> + +<p>He strolled into the drive and waited. Meg<!-- Page 331 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[331]</a></span> +and Jan were busy in the day-nursery, making +the little garments that were outgrown so fast. +Little Fay was playing on the Wren's lawn and +singing to herself:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The fox went out one moonlight night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he played to the moon to give him light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For he had a long way to tlot that night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before he could leach his den-oh.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Hugo listened for a minute. What a clear +voice the child had. He would like to have taken +little Fay, but already he stood in wholesome +awe of his daughter. She could use her thoroughly +sound lungs for other purposes than song, +and she hadn't the smallest scruple about drawing +universal attention to any grievance. Now Tony +would never make a scene. Hugo recognised and +admired that quality in his queer little son. He +did not know that Tony already ruled his little +life by a categorical imperative of things a sahib +must not do.</p> + +<p>At the drive gate he met Earley carrying the +can of cream, with Tony trotting by his side.</p> + +<p>"I'm going into the village, Tony, and Auntie +Jan says you may as well come with me for company. +Will you come?"</p> + +<p>Tony looked dubious. Still, he remembered +that Auntie Jan had said he must try and be kind +to poor Daddie, who had been so ill and was so +sad.</p> + +<p>"All right," he said with a little sigh, and took +the hand Hugo held out.</p> + +<p>"He'll be quite safe with me, Earley," Hugo<!-- Page 332 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[332]</a></span> +said with a pleasant smile. "Miss Ross knows +I'm going to take him."</p> + +<p>Nevertheless Earley went to the back door +and asked Hannah to inform her mistress that +"Mr. Tancred had taken Mazter Tony along of +'im."</p> + +<p>Hannah was busy, and serene in her conception +of Hugo as the sorrowing widower, did not +think the fact that Tony had gone for a walk +with his own father was worth a journey to the +day-nursery.</p> + +<p>"How would you like a ride down to the junction?" +Hugo said. "I believe we could just +catch a train if we take the omnibus at 'The +Green Hart.' I want to make inquiries about +something for Auntie Jan."</p> + +<p>Tony loved trains; he had only been twice to +the junction since he came to Wren's End; it +was a fascinating place. Daddie seemed in an +agreeable mood this morning. Auntie Jan would +be pleased that he should be nice to him.</p> + +<p>It all fell out as if the fates had arranged things +for Hugo. They saw very few people in the village; +only one old woman accompanied them in +the bus; he heard his father ask for a ticket to +the junction, and they arrived without incident +of any kind.</p> + +<p>The junction, however, was busy. There were +quite a lot of people, and when Hugo went to the +ticket-office he had to stand in a queue of others +while Tony waited outside the long row.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Tony began to wonder why his father +should go to the ticket-office at all to inquire for<!-- Page 333 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[333]</a></span> +a parcel. Tony was observant, and just because +everything was so different from things in India +small incidents were impressed upon his mind. If +his father was going on anywhere else, he wasn't +going; for Peter had promised to take them out +in his car again that afternoon. When Hugo +reached the window of the ticket-office Tony +heard something about Paddington.</p> + +<p>That decided him. Nothing would induce him +to go to Paddington.</p> + +<p>He pushed his way among the crowd and ran +for dear life up the stairs, and over the bridge to +the other platform where the train for Amber +Guiting was still waiting, lonely and deserted. +He knew that train. It went up and down all +day, for Amber Guiting was the terminus. No +one was on the platform as he ran along. With +the sure instinct of the hunted he passed the carriages +with their shut doors. Right at the end +was a van with empty milk-cans. He had seen +a porter putting them in the moment the train +stopped. Tony darted into the van and crouched +down between the milk-cans and the wall. He +thought of getting into one of them. The story +of Morgiana and the Forty Thieves was clear in +his mind, for Meg had told it to them the night +before. But the cans were so high and narrow +he decided that it was impossible. Someone +slammed the door of the van. There came a +bump and a jar, and the train moved out onto +a siding till it should go back to Amber Guiting +when the 1.30 from London came in. Tony sat +quite still in the dark, stuffy van. His little heart<!-- Page 334 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[334]</a></span> +was beating with hammer strokes against his ribs, +but his face expressed nothing but scorn.</p> + +<p>Again his father had lied to him. Again he +had said he was going to do one thing when he +fully intended to do another. The pleasantness, +the kindliness, the apparent desire for Tony's +society were a cheat. Tony spoke rapidly to himself +in Hindustani, and by the time he had finished +expressing his views Hugo Tancred hadn't +a shred of character left.</p> + +<p>He didn't know when the train would go back +to Amber Guiting. It might not be till evening. +Tony could wait. Some time it would go back, +and once in that dear, safe place all would be well.</p> + +<p>He disliked the sound of Paddington; it had +to do with London, he knew. He didn't mind +London, but he wasn't going there with his father, +and no Meg and no Jan and no little Fay and no +kind sahibs who were <em>real</em> sahibs.</p> + +<p>He was very hungry, and his eyes grew a bit +misty as he thought of little Fay consuming scones +and milk at the "elevens" Meg was always so +careful they should have.</p> + +<p>A new and troubling thought perturbed him. +Did Auntie Jan know he had gone at all? Would +she be frightened? Would she get that look on +her dear face that he couldn't bear to see? That +Auntie Jan loved them both with her whole heart +was now one of the fixed stars in Tony's firmament +of beliefs. He began to think that perhaps +it would be better for Auntie Jan to give his +father some of her twinkly things and let him go +away and leave them in peace; but he dismissed<!-- Page 335 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[335]</a></span> +that thought as cowardly and unworthy of a +sahib.</p> + +<p>Oh, dear! it was very long sitting in the dark, +scrunched up behind those cans. He must tell +himself stories to pass the time; and he started +to relate the interminable legend of Cocky-locky +and Henny-Penny who by their superior subtlety +evaded the snares set for them by Toddy-Loddy +the fox. He felt a sort of kinship with those +harried fowls. Gradually the constant repetition +of the various other birds involved, "Juckie-Puckie, +Goosie-Loosie, Turkey-lurkey and Swannie-Lonnie," +had a soothing effect, and Tony fell +asleep.</p> + +<hr class="space" /> + +<p>Meanwhile Hugo had hunted through every +corner of the four platforms; he had even gone to +look for the Amber Guiting train, but was told it +always was moved on to a siding directly it had +discharged its passengers.</p> + +<p>It was mysterious, it was profoundly annoying, +but it was not, to Hugo, alarming. He suspected +that Peter Ledgard was in some way +mixed up in it; that he, himself, had been shadowed +and that Peter had stolen Tony in the +crowd. In his mistrustful wrath he endowed +Peter with such abnormal foresight and acumen +as he certainly did not possess.</p> + +<p>It really was an impossible situation. Hugo +could not go about asking porters and people for +a lost child, or the neighbourhood would be +roused. He couldn't go back to Wren's End +without Tony, or there would be the devil to pay.<!-- Page 336 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[336]</a></span> +He even got a porter to look in every carriage of +the side-tracked train for a mythical despatch-case, +and accompanied him in his search. Naturally +they didn't seek a despatch-case in the van.</p> + +<p>He had lost his train, but there was another, +very slow, about three-quarters of an hour later, +and this he decided to take. He would telegraph +to Jan from London. Somehow he was not in +the least concerned about the fate of Tony. +Peter and Peter's car had something to do with +this mysterious disappearance. He was sure of +that.</p> + +<p>Well, if this particular deal had failed, he must +shuffle the cards and deal again. In any case +Jan should see that where his children were concerned +he was not to be trifled with.</p> + +<p>He was sorry, though, he had bought the half-ticket +for Tony, and to ask them to take it back +might cause comment.</p> + +<p>As the slow train steamed out from the junction +Hugo felt a very ill-used man.</p> + +<hr class="space" /> + +<p>At eleven o'clock Anne Chitt brought in the +tray with two cups of milk and a plate of Hannah's +excellent scones.</p> + +<p>"Please go into the kitchen garden and ask +Master Tony to come for his lunch," Jan said.</p> + +<p>Presently Anne returned. "Master Tony ain't +in the garden, miss; and 'Annah says as 'e most +likely ain't back yet, miss."</p> + +<p>"Back! Back from where?"</p> + +<p>"Please, miss, 'Annah says as 'is pa've took +him with him down the village."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 337 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[337]</a></span> +Jan laid her sewing on the table and got up.</p> + +<p>"Is Earley in the garden?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, miss. I ast Earley an' 'e says the same +as 'Annah. Mr. Tancred 'ave took Master Tony +with 'im."</p> + +<p>Anne went away, and Jan and Meg, who had +stopped her machining to listen, stared at each +other across the table.</p> + +<p>"I suppose they'll be back directly," Jan said +uneasily. "I'll go and ask Earley when Hugo +took Tony."</p> + +<p>"He got up to breakfast to-day for the first +time," Meg remarked irrelevantly.</p> + +<p>Jan went out into the Wrens' garden and +through Anthony's gate. She fumbled at the +catch, for her hands trembled.</p> + +<p>Earley was picking peas.</p> + +<p>"What time did Mr. Tancred take Master +Tony?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Just as we got back from fetchin' the cream, +miss. I should say as it was about 'alf-past nine. +He did meet us at the lodge, and took the young +gentleman with 'im for company—'e said so."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Earley," Jan said quietly.</p> + +<p>Earley looked at her and over his broad, good-natured +face there passed a shade of misgiving. +"I did tell Hannah to let you know the minute I +cum in, miss."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," Jan said again; "that's quite +right."</p> + +<p>"Be you feelin' the 'eat, miss?" Earley asked +anxiously. "I don't think as you ought to be +out without an 'at."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 338 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[338]</a></span> +"No, I expect not. I'll go and get one."</p> + +<p>By lunch time there was still no sign of Hugo +and Tony; and Jan was certainly as much scared +as even Hugo could have wished.</p> + +<p>Meg had been down to the village and discovered +that Hugo and Tony had gone by bus to the +junction in time for the 10.23.</p> + +<p>Peter was playing golf with Squire Walcote on +a little course he had made in some of his fields. +It was impossible to go and hunt for Peter without +giving away the whole situation, and Jan was +loth to do that.</p> + +<p>She and Meg stared at one another in dismayed +impotence.</p> + +<p>Jan ordered the pony-carriage; she would drive +to the junction, leaving a note for Peter at "The +Green Hart," but it was only too likely he would +lunch with the Walcotes.</p> + +<p>"You must eat something," said Meg. "There's +a train in at a quarter to two; you'd better meet +that before you go to the junction; the guard +might be able to tell you something."</p> + +<p>At lunch little Fay wept because there was no +Tony.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 339 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[339]</a></span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER XXVI<br /> +<span class="sub">IN WHICH SEVERAL PEOPLE SPEAK THEIR MINDS</span></h2> + +<p><span class="undrop">"</span><span class="dropcap">A</span>FTER all, you know," Meg said, with intent +to comfort, "no great harm can happen +to Tony. Hugo will only take the child a +little way off, to see what he can get out of you."</p> + +<p>"It's the moral harm to Tony that I mind," +Jan answered sadly. "He was getting so happy +and trustful, so much more like other children. +I know his father has got him to go away by +some ruse, and he will be miserable and embittered +because he has been cheated again."</p> + +<p>"Shall you drive to the junction if you hear +nothing at the station?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I think so, though I've little hope of +learning anything there. You see, people come +there from three directions. They couldn't possibly +notice everybody as they do at a little station +like this."</p> + +<p>"Wait," said Meg, "don't go to the junction. +Have you forgotten Mr. Ledgard was to fetch us +all at half-past two? He'll run you over in his +car in a quarter the time you'd take to go with +Placid, and be some use as well. You'd better +come straight back here if you get no news, and +I'll keep him till you get back if he turns up first."</p> + +<p>By this time the pony-cart was at the door. +Meg helped Jan in, kissed her, and whispered, +"Cheer up; I feel somehow you'll hear something,"<!-- Page 340 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[340]</a></span> +and Jan drove off. She found a boy to hold the +pony when she reached the station, and went in. +The old porter was waiting for the train, and she +asked if he happened to notice her little nephew +that morning.</p> + +<p>"Yes, miss, I did see 'un along with a holder +gentleman unbeknownst to me."</p> + +<p>Jan walked up and down in an agony of doubt +and apprehension.</p> + +<p>The train came in. There were but few passengers, +and among them was Miles, come down +again for the week-end.</p> + +<p>He greeted Jan with effusion. Had she come +to meet anyone, or was it a parcel?</p> + +<p>To his astonishment Miss Ross broke from him +and rushed at the guard right up at the far end +of the train.</p> + +<p>The guard evidently disclaimed all knowledge +of the parcel, for Miles saw him shaking his head +vigorously.</p> + +<p>"Any other luggage, sir?" asked the old porter, +lifting out Miles' suit-case.</p> + +<p>"Yes, a box of rods in the van."</p> + +<p>The old porter went to the end of the train +near where Jan had been to the guard three minutes +before.</p> + +<p>He opened the van door and nearly tumbled +backward in astonishment, for right in the doorway, +blinking at the light, stood "Miss Rass' +young gen'leman."</p> + +<p>"Well, I am blessed!" exclaimed the porter, +and lifted him out.</p> + +<p>Tony was dreadfully dirty. The heat, the<!-- Page 341 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[341]</a></span> +dust, the tears he had shed when he woke up with +the putting in of luggage at the junction and +couldn't understand what had happened to him, +all combined to make him about the most miserable-looking +and disreputable small boy you could +imagine. He had left his hat behind the milk-cans.</p> + +<p>Jan had gone out of the station. She had +passed Miles blindly, and her face caused that +young man to whistle softly, just once. Then he +dashed after her.</p> + +<p>"Your haunt bin askin' for you," the old porter +said to Tony. "'Peared to me she was a bit +worried-like."</p> + +<p>Tony moved stiffly down the little station, the +old porter following with Miles' luggage on a +truck.</p> + +<p>The ticket-collector stood in the doorway. +Tony, of course, had none. "Don't you say +nothin'," whispered the old porter. "'Is haunt'll +make it good; there's some sort of a misteree."</p> + +<p>Tony felt queer and giddy. Jan, already in +her little pony-trap, had started to drive away. +Miles, waiting for his baggage beside his uncle's +car, saw the dejected little figure appear in the +station entrance.</p> + +<p>He let fly a real barrack-square bellow after +Jan, and she pulled up.</p> + +<p>She looked back and saw the reason for Captain +Middleton's amazing roar.</p> + +<p>She swung the indignant Placid round, and in +two minutes she was out of the pony-trap and +had Tony in her strong arms.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 342 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[342]</a></span> +Miles tipped the porter and drove off. He, +too, realised that there was some sort of a "misteree," +something painful and unpleasant for +Miss Ross, and that she would probably prefer +that no questions were asked.</p> + +<p>Whatever mischief could that young Tony have +been after? And dared Miles call at Wren's End +that evening, in the hope of a glimpse of Meg, or +would it look inquisitive and ill-bred?</p> + +<p>Placid turned a mild, inquiring head to discover +the reason for this new delay.</p> + +<p>When Jan, after paying Tony's fare back from +the junction, had driven away, the old porter, the +ticket-collector, and the station-master sat in +conclave on the situation. And their unanimous +conclusion was summed up by the old porter: +"Byes be a mishtiful set of young varmints, an' +it warn't no job for a lone 'ooman to 'ave to bring +'em up."</p> + +<p>The lone woman in question held her reins in +one hand and her other arm very tightly round +the dirty little boy on the seat beside her.</p> + +<p>As they drove through the village neither of +them spoke, but when they reached the Wren's +End Road, Tony burst into tears.</p> + +<p>"I <em>am</em> so hungry," he wailed, "and I feel so +nasty in my inside."</p> + +<hr class="space" /> + +<p>As Meg was putting him to bed that night she +inquired if he had done anything with his green +jersey, for she couldn't find it.</p> + +<p>"No," Tony answered. "I haven't had it for +a long time—it's been too warm."</p> + +<p><!-- Page 343 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[343]</a></span> +"It's very odd," said Meg. "It has disappeared, +and so have two vests of little Fay's that +I put in the nursery ottoman to mend. Where +can they be? I hate to lose things; it seems so +untidy."</p> + +<p>"I 'spect," said Tony, thoughtfully, "my +Daddie took them. He'd never leave without +takin somefin."</p> + +<hr class="space" /> + +<p>There was a dinner-party at the Manor House. +Peter had come down from town for it, and this +time he was staying at Wren's End. Lady Penelope +and her husband were to dine and sleep at +the Manor, likewise Miles, who had come down +with Peter; and Lady Pen contrived thoroughly +to upset her aunt before dinner, by relating how +she had met Miles with Miss Morton and her +father in Cheltenham. And poor Lady Mary had +been hoping that the unfortunate affair would die +a natural death. She had asked the prettiest +girl in the neighbourhood for Miles to take in, +and now, looking down the table at him, she +would have said he was as well-pleased with his +neighbour as any young man could be. The +Freams were there and Mr. Withells, the pretty +girl's mamma and a bride and bridegroom—fourteen +in all. A dangerous number to ask, the +Squire had declared; one might so easily have +fallen through. No one did, however, and Peter +found himself allotted to Lady Penelope, while +Jan's fate was the bridegroom. "His wife won't +be jealous of Miss Ross, you know," Lady Mary +had said while arranging her couples.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 344 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[344]</a></span> +It happened that Peter sat opposite to Jan, +and he surveyed her across the sweet-peas with +considerable satisfaction. He had never seen Jan +in what her niece bluntly called "a nekked dless" +before. To-night she wore black, in some soft, +filmy stuff from which her fine arms and shoulders +and beautiful neck stood out in challenging whiteness. +Her hair, too, had "pretty twinkly things" +in it, and she wore a long chain of small but +well-matched pearls, her father's last gift to her. +Yes, Jan was undoubtedly distinguished, and oh, +thank heaven! she <em>had</em> a clean face.</p> + +<p>Beautiful Lady Pen was painted to the eyes, +and her maid was not quite skilful in blending +her complexion rightly with her vivid hair; beautiful +hair it was, with a large ripple that was most +attractive, but Mr. Withells, sitting on the other +side of Lady Pen, decided that he didn't approve +of her. She was flamboyant and daring of speech. +She made him nervous. He felt sincerely sorry +for Pottinger.</p> + +<p>Peter found Lady Pen very amusing, and +perhaps she rather neglected her other neighbour.</p> + +<p>The dinner was excellent and long; and after +it the ladies, when they left the men to smoke, +strolled about on the terrace, and Jan found herself +side by side with Lady Penelope.</p> + +<p>"How's your little friend?" she asked abruptly. +"I suppose you know my cousin's playin' round?"</p> + +<p>Jan was a little taller than Lady Pen, and +turned her head slowly to look at her: "I'm +afraid I don't quite understand," she said.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 345 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[345]</a></span> +"Surely," Lady Pen retorted, "you must have +seen."</p> + +<p>"If you mean that Captain Middleton admires +Miss Morton, I believe he does. But you see, to +say that anyone is 'playing round' rather reflects +on me, because she is in my charge."</p> + +<p>"I should say you've got a pretty good handful," +Lady Pen said sympathetically.</p> + +<p>"I don't think you quite understand Miss Morton. +I've known her, as it happens, known her +well, for close upon nine years."</p> + +<p>"And you think well of her?"</p> + +<p>"It would be difficult to express how well."</p> + +<p>"You're a good friend, Miss Ross. I had occasion +to think so once before—now I'm pretty +sure of it. What's the sayin'—'Time tryeth +thingummy'?"</p> + +<p>"Troth?" Jan suggested.</p> + +<p>"That's it. 'Time tryeth troth.' I never was +any good at quotations and things. But now, +look here, I'd like to ask you somethin' rather +particular ..." Lady Pen took Jan's arm and +propelled her gently down a side-walk out of earshot +of the others. "Suppose you knew folks—and +they weren't exactly friends, but pleasant, +you know, and all that, and you were aware that +they went about sayin' things about a third person +who also wasn't exactly a friend, but ... +well, likeable; and you believed that what the +first lot said gave a wrong impression ... in +short, was very damaging—none of it any business +of yours, mind—would you feel called upon to do +anything?"</p> + +<p><!-- Page 346 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[346]</a></span> +The two tall women stopped and faced one +another.</p> + +<p>The moon shone full on Lady Pen's beautiful +painted face, and Jan saw, for the first time, that +the eyes under the delicately darkened eyebrows +were curiously like Miles'.</p> + +<p>"It's always tiresome to interfere in other +people's business," said Jan, "but it's not quite +fair, is it, not to stand up for people if you believe +an accusation to be untrue—whether you like +them or not. You see, it may be such a serious +thing for the person implicated."</p> + +<p>"I believe you're right," said Lady Pen, "but +oh, lord! what a worry it will be."</p> + +<p>Lady Mary called to them to come, for the +bride was going to sing.</p> + +<p>The bride's singing was not particularly pleasing, +and she was followed by Miles, who performed +"Drake's Drum," to his aunt's rather uncertain +accompaniment, in a voice that shook the +walls. Poor Mr. Withells fled out by the window, +and sat on the step on his carefully-folded handkerchief, +but even so the cold stones penetrated, +and he came in again.</p> + +<p>And after "Drake's Drum" it was time to go +home.</p> + +<p>Jan and Peter walked back through the scented +night, Peter carrying her slippers in a silk bag, for +the sternly economical Meg wouldn't hear of +wasting good suède slippers at 22s. 6d. a pair by +walking half a mile in them, no matter how dry +it was.</p> + +<p>When all the guests had gone, Lady Pen seized<!-- Page 347 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[347]</a></span> +Miles by the arm and implored him to take her +outside for a cigarette. "That little Withells had +given her the hump."</p> + +<p>Lady Mary said it was bed-time and the servants +wanted to lock up. The Squire and Mr. +Pottinger melted away imperceptibly to smoke +in peace elsewhere.</p> + +<p>Lady Pen, still holding Miles in an iron grip, +pulled him over to the door, which she shut, led +him back, and stood in front of Lady Mary, who +was just going to ring for the servants to shut the +windows.</p> + +<p>"Wait a minute, Aunt Mary. I've got somethin' +to say, and I want to say it before Miles."</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't let us go into all that to-night," +Lady Mary implored, "if what you have to say +has anything to do with what you told me before +dinner."</p> + +<p>"It has and it hasn't. One thing I've decided +is that I've got to tell the Trents they are liars; +and the other thing is that, though I disapprove +with all my strength of the game Miles is playing, +I believe that little girl is square...."</p> + +<p>"You see," Lady Pen went on, turning to +Miles, "I've repeated things to Aunt Mary that +I heard from the Trents lately—but I heard a +different story at the time—and though I think +you, Miles, are throwing yourself away, I won't +be a party to spreadin' lies. Somethin' that <i lang="fr">poudrée</i> +woman with the good skin said to-night +made me feel a swab——"</p> + +<p>"I'm glad you've spoken up like this, Pen," +Miles said slowly, "for if you hadn't, we couldn't<!-- Page 348 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[348]</a></span> +have been friends any more. I promised Meg I +wouldn't tell anybody—but I've asked her to +marry me ... and though she isn't over keen, +I believe I'll get her to do it some day."</p> + +<p>"Isn't over keen?" Lady Mary repeated indignantly. +"Why, she ought to be down on her +knees with joy!"</p> + +<p>Miles laughed. "She's not a kneeling sort, +Aunt Mary. It's I who'll have to do the kneeling, +I can tell you."</p> + +<p>Lady Pen was looking straight at her cousin +with the beautiful candid eyes that were so like +his own. "Just for curiosity," she said slowly, +"I'd dearly like to know if Meg Morton ever said +anything to you about me—anything rather confidential—I +won't be offended, I'd just like to +know."</p> + +<p>"About you?" Miles echoed in a puzzled +voice.</p> + +<p>"About my appearance, you know—my looks."</p> + +<p>"I think she called you good-looking, like +everybody else, but I don't remember that she +was specially enthusiastic. To tell you the honest +truth, Pen, we've had other things to talk +about than you."</p> + +<p>"Now listen, you two," said Lady Pen. "That +little girl is straight. You won't understand, +Miles, but Aunt Mary will. Meg Morton knew +I was against her—about you, Miles—women +always know these things. And yet she held her +tongue when she could have said something true +that I'd rather not have talked about. You'll +hold your tongue, old chap, and so will Aunt<!-- Page 349 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[349]</a></span> +Mary. I've got her hair; got it on this minute. +That's why she's such a croppy."</p> + +<p>Lady Mary sat down on the nearest chair and +sighed deeply.</p> + +<p>"It's been a real satisfaction to me, this transformation, +because I know where it came from."</p> + +<p>Miles took his cousin's hand and kissed it. +"If somebody had to have it, I'm glad it's you," +he said.</p> + +<p>"Yes, she's straight," Lady Pen repeated. "I +don't believe there's many girls who would have +kept quiet—not when the man they cared about +was being got at. You may ring now, Aunt +Mary. I'm through. Good night."</p> + +<hr class="wide" /> + +<p>"Do you realise," said Peter as they turned out +of the dark Manor drive into the moonlit road, +"that I've been here on and off over a month, +and that we are now nearly at the end of July?"</p> + +<p>"You've only just come to <em>us</em>," said Jan. +"You can't count the time you stayed at 'The +Green Hart' as a visit."</p> + +<p>"And now I have come ... I'm not quite sure +I've done wisely, unless...."</p> + +<p>"Unless what?"</p> + +<p>"Unless I can put something through that I +came back from India to do."</p> + +<p>Jan did not answer. They walked on in silence, +and Peter looked at the moon.</p> + +<p>"I think," he said, "you've always had a pretty +clear idea why I came home from India ... +haven't you?"</p> + +<p>"It was time for your leave," Jan said ner<!-- Page 350 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[350]</a></span>vously. +"It isn't good to stay out there too +long."</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't have taken leave this year, +though, if it hadn't been for you."</p> + +<p>"You've always been kind and helpful to me ... I +hope it hasn't been very ... inconvenient."</p> + +<p>Peter laughed, and stopped in the middle of +the road.</p> + +<p>"I'm fond of fencing," he said lightly, "and +free play's all very well and pretty; but I've +always thought that the real thing, with the +buttons off the foils, must have been a lot more +sport than anything we get now."</p> + +<p>Again Jan was silent.</p> + +<p>"You've fenced with me, Jan," he said slowly, +"ever since I turned up that day unexpectedly. +Now, I want a straight answer. Do you care at +all, or have you only friendship for me? Look +at me; tell me the truth."</p> + +<p>"It's all so complicated and difficult," she faltered, +and her eyes fell beneath Peter's.</p> + +<p>"What is?"</p> + +<p>"This caring—when you aren't a free agent."</p> + +<p>"Free fiddlestick! You either care or you +don't—which is it?"</p> + +<p>"I care a great deal too much for my own +peace of mind," said Jan.</p> + +<p>"I am quite satisfied," said Peter. And if Mr. +Withells had seen what happened to the "sensible" +Miss Ross just then, his neatly-brushed +hair would have stood straight on end.</p> + +<p>In the road, too!</p> + +<p><!-- Page 351 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[351]</a></span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER XXVII<br /> +<span class="sub">AUGUST, 1914</span></h2> + +<p><span class="undrop">"</span><span class="dropcap">N</span>O," said Jan, "it would be like marrying +a widow ... with encumbrances."</p> + +<p>"But you don't happen to be a widow—besides, +if you were, and had a dozen encumbrances, +if we want to get married it's nobody's business +but our own."</p> + +<p>Peter spoke testily. He wanted Jan to marry +him before he went back to India in October, +and if he got the billet he hoped for, to follow him, +taking the two children out, early in November.</p> + +<p>But Jan saw a thousand lions in the way. She +was pulled in this direction and that, and though +she knew she had got to depend on Peter to—as +she put it—"a dreadful extent," yet she hesitated +to saddle him with her decidedly explosive affairs, +without a great deal more consideration than he +seemed disposed to allow her.</p> + +<p>Hugo, for the present, was quiet. He was in +Guernsey with his people, and beyond a letter in +which he directly accused Peter Ledgard of abducting +Tony when his father was taking him to +visit his grandparents, Jan had heard nothing.</p> + +<p>By Peter's advice she did not answer this letter. +But they both knew that Hugo was only waiting +to make some other and more unpleasant demonstration +than the last.</p> + +<p>"You see," Jan began again, "I've got so many<!-- Page 352 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[352]</a></span> +people to think of. The children and Meg and +the house and all the old servants.... You +mustn't hustle me, dear."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I see all that; but I've got <em>you</em> to think +of, and if we're married and anything happens to +me you'll get your pension, and I want you to +have that."</p> + +<p>"And if anything happened to me, you'd be +saddled with the care of two little children who've +got a thoroughly unsatisfactory father, who can +always make life hateful for them and for you. +No, Peter, it wouldn't be fair—we must wait and +see how things work out."</p> + +<p>"At present," Peter said gloomily, "it looks as +if things were working out to a fair bust-up all +round."</p> + +<p>This was on the 30th of July.</p> + +<p>Peter went up to London, intending to return +on the first to stay over the Bank Holiday, but he +did not come. He wanted to be within easy +reach of recalling cablegram.</p> + +<p>Meg got a wire from Miles on Saturday: "Try +to come up for to-morrow and Monday I can't +leave town must see you."</p> + +<p>And half an hour after it, came a note from +Squire Walcote, asking her to accept his escort, +as he and Lady Mary were going up to the Grosvenor, +and hoped Meg would be their guest.</p> + +<p>It was during their stay in London that Lady +Mary and the Squire got the greatest surprise of +their whole lives.</p> + +<p>Miles, looking bigger than ever in uniform, +rushed in and demanded an interview with Meg<!-- Page 353 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[353]</a></span> +alone in their private room. He showed her a +special licence, and ordered, rather than requested, +that she should marry him at once.</p> + +<p>"I can't," she said, "it's no use asking me ... +I <em>can't</em>."</p> + +<p>"Listen; have you any objection to me?"</p> + +<p>Meg pulled a little away from him and pretended +to look him up and down. "No ... in +fact ... I love every bit of you—especially your +boots."</p> + +<p>"Have you thought how likely it is that I may +not come back ... if there's war?"</p> + +<p>"Don't!" said Meg. "Don't put it into +words."</p> + +<p>"Then why won't you marry me, and let me +feel that, whether I'm killed or not, I've had the +thing I wanted most in this world?"</p> + +<p>"Dear, I can't help it, but I feel if I married +you now ... you would never come back ... +but if I wait ... if I don't try to grasp this +wonderful thing too greedily ... it will come to +us both. I <em>daren't</em> marry you, Miles."</p> + +<p>"Suppose I'm all smashed up ... I couldn't +ask you then ... suppose I come back minus an +arm or a leg, or blind or something?"</p> + +<p>"If the least little bit of you comes back, I'll +marry that; not you or anyone else could stop me +then."</p> + +<p>"You'd make it easier all round if you'd marry +me now...."</p> + +<p>"That's it ... I don't want it to be easier. If +I was your wife, how could I go on being nurse to +those children?"</p> + +<p><!-- Page 354 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[354]</a></span> +"I wouldn't stop you—you could go back to +Miss Ross and do just exactly what you're doing. +I agree with you—the children are cheery——"</p> + +<p>Meg shook her head. "No; if I was your wife, +it wouldn't do. As it is ... the nursemaid has +got her soldier, and that's as it should be."</p> + +<p>"Will you marry me the first leave I get, if I +live to get any?"</p> + +<p>"I'll think about that."</p> + +<p>He gave her the ring she had refused before. +Such an absurd little ring, with its one big sapphire +set with diamonds, and "no backing to it," +Miles said.</p> + +<p>And he gave her a very heavy brass-studded +collar for William, and on the plate was engraved +her name and address.</p> + +<p>"You see," he explained, "Miss Ross would +never really have him, and I'd like to think he was +your dog. And here's his licence."</p> + +<p>Then Miles took her right up in his arms and +hugged her close, and set her gently down and +left her.</p> + +<p>That night he asked his uncle and a brother-officer +to witness his will. He had left most of +his money among his relations, but twenty thousand +pounds he had left to Meg absolutely, in +the event of his being killed before they were +married.</p> + +<p>His uncle pointed out that there was nothing +said about her possible marriage. "She'll be all +the better for a little money of her own if she does +marry," Miles said simply. "I don't want her +to go mourning all her days, but I do want the<!-- Page 355 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[355]</a></span> +capital tied up on her so that he couldn't waste +it ... if he was an unfortunate sort of chap +over money."</p> + +<p>The Squire blew his nose.</p> + +<p>"You see," Miles went on, "she's a queer little +thing. If I left her too much, she'd refuse it altogether. +Now I trust to you, Uncle Edward, to +see that she takes this."</p> + +<p>"I'll do my best, my boy, I'll do my best," said +the Squire; "but I hope with all my soul you'll +make settlements on her yourself before long."</p> + +<p>"So do I, but you never can tell in war, you +know. And we must always remember," Miles +added with his broad, cheerful smile, "there's a +good deal of target about me."</p> + +<p>Miles wrote to the little Major, a very manly, +straightforward letter, telling him what he had +done, but swearing him to secrecy as regarded +Meg.</p> + +<p>He also wrote to Jan, and at the end, he said, +"I am glad she is to be with you, because you +really apreciate her."</p> + +<p>The one "p" in "appreciate" fairly broke Jan +down. It was so like Miles.</p> + +<p>Meg, white-faced and taciturn, went back to +Wren's End on Tuesday night. The Squire and +Lady Mary remained in town.</p> + +<p>In answer to Jan's affectionate inquiries, Meg +was brief and business-like. Yes; she had seen +Miles several times. He was very busy. No, +she did not expect to see him again before ... he +left. Yes; he was going with the First Army.</p> + +<p>Jan asked no more questions, but was quietly,<!-- Page 356 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[356]</a></span> +consistently kind. Meg was adorable with her +children and surpassed herself in the telling of +stories.</p> + +<p>The First Army left England for Flanders with +the silence of a shadow.</p> + +<p>But Meg knew when it left.</p> + +<p>That night, Jan woke about one o'clock, conscious +of a queer sound that she could neither +define nor locate.</p> + +<p>She sat up in bed to listen, and arrived at the +conclusion that it came from the day-nursery, +which was below her room.</p> + +<p>Tony was sleeping peacefully. Jan put on her +dressing-gown and went downstairs. The nursery +door was not shut, and a shaft of light shone +through it into the dark hall. She pushed it +open a little way and looked in.</p> + +<p>Meg was sitting at the table, making muslin +curtains as if her life depended on it. She wore +her nightgown, and over it a queer little Japanese +kimono of the green she loved. Her bare feet were +pillowed upon William, who lay snoring peacefully +under the table.</p> + +<p>Her face was set and absorbed. A grave, almost +stern, little face. And her rumpled hair, +pushed back from her forehead, gave her the look +of a Botticelli boy angel. It seemed to merge +into tongues of flame where the lamplight caught +it.</p> + +<p>The window was wide open and the sudden +opening of the door caused a draught, though the +night was singularly still.</p> + +<p>The lamp flickered.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 357 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[357]</a></span> +Meg rested her hand on the handle of the sewing-machine, +and the whirring noise stopped. +She saw Jan in the doorway.</p> + +<p>"Dear," said Jan gently, standing where she +was, half in and half out of the door, "are you +obliged to do this?"</p> + +<p>Meg looked at her, and the dumb pain in that +look went to Jan's heart.</p> + +<p>Jan came towards her and drew the flaming +head against her breast.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry I disturbed you," Meg murmured, +"but I was <em>obliged</em> to do something."</p> + +<p>William stirred at the voices, and turning his +head tried to lick the little bare feet resting on his +back.</p> + +<p>"Dearest, I really think you should go back to +bed."</p> + +<p>"Very well," said Meg meekly. "I'll go now."</p> + +<p>"He," Jan continued, "would be very angry if +he thought you were making curtains in the middle +of the night."</p> + +<p>"He," Meg retorted, "is absurd—and dear beyond +all human belief."</p> + +<p>"You see, he left you in my charge ... what +will he say if—when he comes back—he finds a +haggard Meg with a face like a threepenny-bit that +has seen much service?"</p> + +<p>"All right, I'm coming."</p> + +<p>When Meg got back to her room, she went and +leaned over little Fay sleeping in the cot beside her +bed. Rosy and beautiful, warm and fragrant, the +healthy baby brought comfort to Meg's stricken +heart.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 358 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[358]</a></span> +Perhaps—who knows—the tramp of that silent +army sounded in little Fay's ears, for she stretched +out her dimpled arms and caught Meg round the +neck.</p> + +<p>"Deah Med!" she sighed, and was still.</p> + +<p>William stood at attention.</p> + +<p>Presently Meg knelt down by her bed, and +according to the established ritual he thrust his +head into her encircling arm.</p> + +<p>"Pray for your master, William," Meg whispered. +"Oh, William, pray for your master as +you never prayed before."</p> + +<hr class="wide" /> + +<p>The strange tense days went on in August +weather serene and lovely as had not been seen +for years. Young men vanished from the country-side +and older men wistfully wondered what +they could do to help.</p> + +<p>Peter came down from Saturday to Monday, +telling them that every officer and every civilian +serving in India was recalled, but he had not yet +learned when he was to sail.</p> + +<p>They were sitting in the wrens' garden with the +children.</p> + +<p>"Earley's going," Tony said importantly.</p> + +<p>"Earley!" Jan exclaimed. "Going where?"</p> + +<p>"To fight, of course," little Fay chimed in.</p> + +<p>"Oh, poor dear Earley!" Jan sighed.</p> + +<p>"Happy, fortunate Earley," said Peter. "I +wish I stood in his shoes."</p> + +<p>Earley joined the Gloucesters because, he said, +"he couldn't abear to think of them there Ger<!-- Page 359 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[359]</a></span>mans +comin' anigh Mother and them childring +and the ladies; and he'd better go and see as they +didn't."</p> + +<p>Mr. Withells called the men on his place together +and told them that every man who joined would +have his wages paid to his wife, and his wife or his +mother, as the case might be, could stop on in her +cottage. And Mr. Withells became a special constable, +with a badge and a truncheon. But he +worried every soldier that he knew with inquiries +as to whether there wasn't a chance for him in +<em>some</em> battalion: "I've taken great care of my +health," he said. "I do exercises every day after +my bath; I'm young-looking for my age, don't you +think? And anyway, a bullet might find me instead +of a more useful man."</p> + +<p>No one laughed then at Mr. Withells and his +exercises.</p> + +<p>Five days after the declaration of war Jan got a +letter from Hugo Tancred. He was in London +and was already a private in a rather famous +cavalry regiment.</p> + +<p>"They didn't ask many questions," he wrote, +"so I hadn't to tell many lies. You see, I can ride +well and understand horses. If I get knocked +out, it won't be much loss, and I know you'll +look after Fay's kiddies. If I come through, perhaps +I can make a fresh start somewhere. I've +always been fond of a gamble, and this is the +biggest gamble I've ever struck."</p> + +<p>Jan showed the letter to Peter, who gave it +back to her with something like a groan: "Even +the wrong 'uns get their chance, and yet I have to<!-- Page 360 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[360]</a></span> +go back and do a deadly dull job, just because it +<em>is</em> my job."</p> + +<p>Peter went up to town and two days after came +down again to "The Green Hart" to say good-bye. +He had got his marching orders and was to sail +in the <i>Somali</i> from Southampton. Some fifteen +hundred civilians and officers serving in India +were sailing by that boat and the <i>Dongola</i>.</p> + +<p>By every argument he could bring forward he +tried to get Jan to marry him before he sailed. +Yet just because she wanted to do it so much, +she held back. She, too, she kept telling herself, +had her job, and she knew that if she was Peter's +wife, nothing, not even her dear Fay's children, +could be of equal importance with Peter.</p> + +<p>The children and Meg and the household had +by much thinking grown into a sort of Frankenstein's +monster of duty.</p> + +<p>Her attitude was incomprehensible to Peter. +It seemed to him to be wrong-headed and absurd, +and he began to lose patience with her.</p> + +<p>On his last morning he sought and found her +beside the sun-dial in the wrens' garden.</p> + +<p>Meg had taken little Fay to see Lady Mary's +Persian kittens, but Tony preferred to potter +about the garden with the aged man who was +trying to replace Earley. William was not allowed +to call upon the kittens, as Fatima, their +mother, objected to him vehemently, and Tony +cared to go nowhere if William might not be of +the party.</p> + +<p>Peter came to Jan and took both her hands +and held them.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 361 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[361]</a></span> +"It's the last time I shall ask you, my dear. +If you care enough, we can have these last days +together. If you don't I must go, for I can't bear +any more of this. Either you love me enough to +marry me before I sail or you don't love me at +all. Which is it?"</p> + +<p>"I do love you, you know I do."</p> + +<p>"Well, which is it to be?"</p> + +<p>"Peter, dear, you must give me more time. I +haven't really faced it all. I can't do anything +in such a hurry as that."</p> + +<p>Peter looked at her and shook his head.</p> + +<p>"You don't know what caring is," he said. +"I can't stand any more of this. Do you see that +motto on the sun-dial: 'I bide my time'—I've +read it and read it, and I've said it over to myself +and waited and hoped to move you. Now I +can't wait any more."</p> + +<p>He kissed her, dropped her hand, and turning +from her went out through the iron gate and down +the drive. For a moment Jan stood by the sun-dial +as though she, too, were stone.</p> + +<p>Then blindly she went up the steps into the +empty nursery and sat down on an old sofa far +back in the room. She leaned face-downward +against the cushions, and great, tearing sobs broke +from her.</p> + +<p>Peter was gone. He would never come back. +She had driven him from her. And having done +so she realised that he was the one person in the +world she could not possibly do without.</p> + +<p>Tony's own hen had laid an egg. Carrying it +very carefully in a cabbage-leaf, he went, accom<!-- Page 362 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[362]</a></span>panied +by the faithful William, to show it to +Auntie Jan, and was just in time to see Peter +going down the drive.</p> + +<p>He went through the wrens' garden and in by +the window. For a moment he didn't see his +aunt; and was turning to go again when a strange +sound arrested him, and he saw her all huddled +up at the head of the sofa, with hidden face and +heaving shoulders.</p> + +<p>He laid his egg on the table and went and +pulled at her arm.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter?" he asked anxiously. +"And why has Peter gone?"</p> + +<p>Jan raised her head; pride and shame and self-consciousness +were dead in her: "He's gone," she +sobbed. "He won't come back, and I shall never +be happy any more," and down went her head +again on her locked arms.</p> + +<p>Tony did not attempt to console her. He ran +from the room, and Jan felt that this was only an +added pang of abandonment.</p> + +<p>Down the drive ran Tony, with William galumphing +beside him. But William was not happy, +and squealed softly from time to time. He felt +it unkind to leave a poor lady crying like that, and +yet was constrained to go with Tony because Meg +had left him in William's charge.</p> + +<p>Tony turned out of the gate and into the road.</p> + +<p>Far away in the distance was a man's figure +striding along with incredible swiftness. Tony +started to run all he knew. Now, seldom as William +barked, he barked when people ran, and +William's bark was so deep and sonorous and dis<!-- Page 363 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[363]</a></span>tinctive +that it caused the swiftly striding man +to turn his head. He turned his body, too, and +came back to meet Tony and William.</p> + +<p>Tony was puffed and almost breathless, but he +managed to jerk out: "You must go back; she's +... crying dreadful. You <em>must</em> go back. Go +quick; don't wait for us."</p> + +<p>Peter went.</p> + +<hr class="space" /> + +<p>Jan very rarely cried. When she did it hurt +fiercely and absorbed all her attention. She was +crying now as if she would never stop. If people +seldom cry it has a devastating effect on their +appearance when they do. Jan's eyelids were +swollen, her nose scarlet and shiny, her features +all bleared and blurred and almost scarred by +tears.</p> + +<p>Someone touched her gently on the shoulder, +and she looked up.</p> + +<p>"My dear," said Peter, "you must not cry like +this. I was losing my temper—that's why I went +off."</p> + +<p>Jan sprang to her feet and flung her arms round +his neck. She pressed her ravaged face against +his: "I'll do anything you like," she whispered, +"if you'll only like it. I can't stand by myself +any more."</p> + +<p>This was true, for as she spoke her knees gave +under her.</p> + +<p>Peter held her close. Never had Jan looked +less attractive and never had Peter loved her +more, or realised so clearly how dear and foolish +and wise and womanly she was.</p> + +<p><!-- Page 364 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[364]</a></span> +"You see," she sobbed, "you said yourself +everyone <em>must</em> do his job, and I thought——"</p> + +<p>"But surely," said Peter, "I <em>am</em> your job—part +of it, anyway."</p> + +<p>Jan sobbed now more quietly, with her head +against his shoulder.</p> + +<p>Tony and William came and looked in at the +window.</p> + +<p>His aunt was still crying, crying hard, though +Peter was there close beside her, very close indeed.</p> + +<p>Surely this was most unreasonable.</p> + +<p>"She said," Tony remarked accusingly to Peter, +"she was crying because you had gone, so I ran +to fetch you back. And now I <em>have</em> fetched you, +she's crying worse nor ever."</p> + +<p>But William Bloomsbury knew better. William +had cause to know the solitary bitter tears +that hurt. These tears were different.</p> + +<p>So William wagged his tail and ran into the +room, jumping joyously on Peter and Jan.</p> + +<div class="tn"> +<h3 class="u">Transcriber's Note:</h3> + +<p>The following corrections were made:</p> + +<ul> +<li><a href="#Page_44">p. 44</a>: Daddy to Daddie, to match all other occurrences (Daddie was very +daylight.)</li> +<li><a href="#Page_113">p. 113</a>: log to long (long grey dust-cloak)</li> +<li><a href="#Page_113">p. 113</a>: froward to forward (Anthony came forward)</li> +<li><a href="#Page_118">p. 118</a>: bread-an-butter to bread-and-butter (several pieces of +bread-and-butter)</li> +<li><a href="#Page_152">p. 152</a>: minunte to minute (pondered this for a minute)</li> +<li><a href="#Page_284">p. 284</a>: quit to quick ("I came as quick as I could,")</li> +<li><a href="#Page_318">p. 318</a>: fluttered to flattered (rather flattered)</li> +</ul> + +<p>Inconsistencies in hyphenation (e.g. country-side vs. countryside) have +not been changed. All dialect and "baby talk" has been left as in the +original. Two different types of thought breaks were used in the +original: extra whitespace between paragraphs (which appears here as in +the original) and a line of 8 spaced asterisks (rendered here as a wide +horizontal rule). Ellipses match the original, even when inconsistent. +The exception is when they occur at the end of a paragraph, where they +are always accompanied by a period.</p> + +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Jan and Her Job, by L. 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Allen Harker + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Jan and Her Job + +Author: L. Allen Harker + +Release Date: September 9, 2009 [EBook #29945] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JAN AND HER JOB *** + + + + +Produced by Robert Cicconetti, S.D., and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + + + + +JAN AND HER JOB + + + + +[Illustration: "But surely," said Peter, "I _am_ your job--part of it, +anyway."] + + + + +JAN AND HER JOB + +BY + +L. ALLEN HARKER + +AUTHOR OF "A ROMANCE OF THE NURSERY"; "MISS ESPERANCE AND MR. WYCHERLY"; +"MR. WYCHERLY'S WARDS"; "THE FFOLLIOTS OF REDMARLEY," ETC. + +ILLUSTRATED + +NEW YORK + +CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS + +1917 + + +Copyright, 1917, by +Charles Scribner's Sons + +*** + +Published March, 1917 + + + TO + + F. R. P. + + "_Chary of praise and prodigal of counsel-- + Who but thou?_" + R. L. S. + + + + +_CONTENTS_ + + + CHAPTER PAGE + + I. JAN 1 + + II. JAN'S MAIL 13 + + III. BOMBAY 19 + + IV. THE BEGINNING OF THE JOB 39 + + V. THE CHILDREN 52 + + VI. THE SHADOW BEFORE 62 + + VII. THE HUMAN TOUCH 78 + + VIII. THE END OF THE DREAM 91 + + IX. MEG 97 + + X. PLANS 124 + + XI. THE STATE OF PETER 139 + + XII. "THE BEST-LAID SCHEMES" 149 + + XIII. THE WHEELS OF CHANCE 162 + + XIV. PERPLEXITIES 173 + + XV. WREN'S END 184 + + XVI. "THE BLUDGEONINGS OF CHANCE" 201 + + XVII. "THOUGH AN HOST SHOULD ENCAMP AGAINST + ME" 212 + + XVIII. MEG AND CAPTAIN MIDDLETON 220 + + XIX. THE YOUNG IDEA 240 + + XX. "ONE WAY OF LOVE" 252 + + XXI. ANOTHER WAY OF LOVE 261 + + XXII. THE ENCAMPMENT 276 + + XXIII. TACTICS 287 + + XXIV. "THE WAY OF A MAN WITH A MAID" 303 + + XXV. A DEMONSTRATION IN FORCE 325 + + XXVI. IN WHICH SEVERAL PEOPLE SPEAK THEIR MINDS 339 + + XXVII. AUGUST, 1914 351 + + + + +_ILLUSTRATIONS_ + + + "But surely," said Peter, "I _am_ your job--part of it, + anyway" _Frontispiece_ + + FACING + PAGE + + "It would make it easier for both of us if you'd face it, + my dear" 66 + + He washed his small sister with thoroughness and despatch, + pointing out ... that he "went into all the + corners" 156 + + William rushed out to welcome the strangers. Two ... + nice children 188 + + + + +JAN AND HER JOB + +CHAPTER I + +JAN + + +She was something of a puzzle to the other passengers. They couldn't +quite place her. She came on board the P. and O. at Marseilles. Being +Christmas week the boat was not crowded, and she had a cabin to herself +on the spar deck, so there was no "stable-companion" to find out +anything about her. + +The sharp-eyed Australian lady, who sat opposite her at the Purser's +table, decided that she was not married, or even engaged, as she wore no +rings of any kind. Besides, her name, "Miss Janet Ross," figured in the +dinner-list and was plainly painted on her deck-chair. At meals she sat +beside the Purser, and seemed more or less under his wing. People at her +table decided that she couldn't be going out as a governess or she would +hardly be travelling first class, and yet she did not look of the sort +who globe-trot all by themselves. + +Rather tall, slender without being thin, she moved well. Her ringless +hands were smooth and prettily shaped, so were her slim feet, and always +singularly well-shod. + +Perhaps her chief outward characteristic was that she looked +delightfully fresh and clean. Her fair skin helped to this effect, and +the trim suitability of her clothes accentuated it. And yet there was +nothing challenging or particularly noticeable in her personality. + +Her face, fresh-coloured and unlined, was rather round. Her eyes +well-opened and blue-grey, long-sighted and extremely honest. Her hair, +thick and naturally wavy, had been what hairdressers call "mid-brown," +but was now frankly grey, especially round the temples; and the grey +hair puzzled people, so that opinions differed widely regarding her age. + +The five box-wallahs (gentlemen engaged in commercial pursuits are so +named in the East to distinguish them from the Heaven-Born in the +various services that govern India), who, with the Australian lady, sat +opposite to her at table, decided that she was really young and +prematurely grey. Between the courses they diligently took stock of her. +The Australian lady disagreed with them. She declared Miss Ross to be +middle-aged, to look younger than she was. In this the Australian lady +was quite sincere. She could not conceive of any _young_ woman +neglecting the many legitimate means that existed of combating this most +distressing semblance--if semblance it was--of age. + +The Australian lady set her down as a well-preserved forty at least. + +Mr. Frewellen, the oldest and crossest and greediest of the five +box-wallahs, declared that he would lay fifteen rupees to five annas +that she was under thirty; that her eyes were sad, and it was probably +trouble that had turned her hair. At his time of life, he could tell a +young woman when he saw one. No painted old harridan could deceive +_him_. After all, if Miss Ross _had_ grey hair, she had plenty of it, +and it was her own. But Mr. Frewellen, who sat directly opposite her, +was prejudiced in her favour, for she always let him take her roll if it +was browner than his own. He also took her knife if it happened to be +sharper than the one he had, and he insisted on her listening to his +incessant grumbling as to the food, the service, the temperature, and +the general imbecility and baseness of his fellow-creatures. + +Like the Ancient Mariner, he held her with his glittering spectacles. +Miss Ross trembled before his diatribes. He spoke in a loud and rumbling +voice, and made derogatory remarks about the other passengers as they +passed to their respective tables. She would thankfully have changed +hers, but that it might have seemed ungrateful to the Purser, into whose +charge she had been given by friends; and the Purser had been most kind +and attentive. + +The Australian lady was sure that the Purser knew more about Miss Ross +than he would acknowledge--which he did. But when tackled by one +passenger about another, he was discreet or otherwise in direct ratio to +what he considered was the discretion of the questioner. And he was a +pretty shrewd judge of character. He had infinite opportunities of so +judging. A sea-voyage lays bare many secrets and shows up human nature +at its starkest. + +Janet Ross did not seek to make friends, but kindly people who spoke to +her found her pleasant and not in the least disposed to be mysterious +when questioned, though she never volunteered any information about +herself. She was a good listener, and about the middle of any voyage +that is a quality supplying a felt want. Mankind in general finds his +own doings very interesting, and takes great pleasure in recounting the +same. Even the most energetic young passenger cannot play deck-quoits +all day, and mixed cricket matches are too heating to last long once +Aden is left behind. A great many people found it pleasant to drop into +a chair beside the quiet lady, who was always politely interested in +their remarks. She looked so cool and restful in her white frock and +shady hat. She did _not_ buy a solar topee at Port Said, for though this +was her first voyage she had not, it seemed, started quite unwarned. + +In the middle of the Indian Ocean she suddenly found favour in the eyes +of Sir Langham Sykes, and when that was the case Sir Langham proclaimed +his preference to the whole ship. No one who attracted his notice could +remain in obscurity. When he was not eating he was talking, generally +about himself, though he was also fond of asking questions. + +A short, stout man with a red face, little fierce blue eyes, a booming +voice, noisy laugh and a truculent, domineering manner, Sir Langham +made his presence felt wherever he was. + +It was "her shape," as he called it, that first attracted his attention +to Miss Ross, as he watched her walking briskly round and round the +hurricane-deck for her morning constitutional. + +"That woman moves well," he remarked to his neighbour; "wonder if she's +goin' out to be married. Nice-looking woman and pleasant, no frills +about her--sort that would be kind in illness." + +And Sir Langham sighed. He couldn't take any exercise just then, for his +last attack of gout had been very severe, and his left foot was still +swathed and slippered. + +There was a dance that night on the hurricane-deck, and Sir Langham, +while watching the dancers, talked at the top of his voice with the more +important lady passengers. On such occasions he claimed close intimacy +with the Reigning House, and at all times of day one heard such +sentences as, "And _I_ said to the Princess Henrietta," with a full +account of what he did say. And the things he declared he said, and the +stories he told, certainly suggested a doubt as to whether the ladies of +our Royal Family are quite as strait-laced as the ordinary public is led +to believe. But then one had only Sir Langham's word for it. There was +no possibility of questioning the Princess. + +Presently Sir Langham got tired of trying to drown the band--it was such +a noisy band--and he hobbled down the companion on to the almost +deserted deck. Right up in the stern he spied Miss Ross, quite alone, +sitting under an electric light absorbed in a book. Beside her was an +empty chair with a comfortable leg-rest. Sir Langham never made any +bones about interrupting people. It would not, to him, have seemed +possible that a woman could prefer any form of literature to the charm +of his conversation. So with a series of grunts he lowered himself into +it, arranged his foot upon the rest, and, without asking permission, lit +a cigar. + +"Don't you care for dancin'?" he asked. + +She closed her book. "Oh, yes," she said, "but I don't know many men on +board, and there are such a lot of young people who do know one another. +It's pretty to watch them; but the night is pretty, too, don't you +think? The stars all seem so near compared to what they do at home." + +"I've seen too many Eastern nights to take much stock in 'em now," he +said in a disparaging voice. "I take it this is all new to you--first +voyage, eh?" + +"Yes, I've never been a long voyage before." + +"Goin' to India, I suppose. You'd have started sooner if you'd been +goin' for the winter to Australia. Now what are you goin' to India +_for_?" + +"To stay with my sister." + +"Married sister?" + +"Yes." + +"Older than you, then, of course." + +"No, younger." + +"Much younger?" + +"Three years." + +"Is she like you?" + +"Not in the least. She is a beautiful person." + +"Been married long?" + +"Between five and six years. I'm to take her home at the end of the cold +weather." + +"Any kids?" + +"Two." + +"And you haven't been out before?" + +"No; this is my first visit." + +"She's been home, I suppose?" + +"Yes, once." + +"Is her husband in the Army?" + +"No." + +Had Sir Langham been an observant person he would have noted that her +very brief replies did not exactly encourage further questions. But his +idea of conversation was either a monologue or a means of obtaining +information, so he instantly demanded, "What does her husband do?" + +The impulse of the moment urged her to reply, "What possible business is +it of yours _what_ he does?" But well-bred people do not yield to these +impulses, so she answered quietly, "He's in the P.W.D." + +"Not a bad service, not a bad service, though not equal to the I.C.S. +They've had rather a scandal in it lately. Didn't you see about it in +the papers just before we left?" + +At that moment Sir Langham was very carefully flicking the ash from the +end of his cigar, otherwise he might have observed that as he spoke his +companion flushed. A wave of warm colour surged over her face and bare +neck and receded again, leaving her very pale. Her hands closed over the +book lying in her lap, as if glad to hold on to something, and their +knuckles were white against the tan. + +"Didn't you see it?" he repeated. "Some chap been found to have taken +bribes over contracts in a native state. Regular rumpus there's been. +Quite right, too; we sahibs must have clean hands. No dealing with brown +people if you haven't clean hands--can't have rupees sticking to 'em in +any Government transactions. Expect you'll hear all about it when you +get out there--makes a great sensation in any service does that sort of +thing. I don't remember the name of the chap--perhaps they didn't give +it--do you?" + +"I didn't see anything about it," she said quietly. "I was very busy +just before I left, and hardly looked at a paper." + +"Where is your sister?" + +"In Bombay." + +"Oh, got a billet there, has he? Expect you'll like Bombay; cheery +place, in the cold weather, but not a patch on Calcutta, to my mind. I +hear the Governor and his wife do the thing in style--hospitable, you +know; got private means, as people in that position always ought to +have." + +"I don't suppose I shall go out at all," she said. "My sister is ill, +and I've got to look after her. Directly she is strong enough to travel +I shall bring her home." + +"Oh, you _must_ see something of the social life of the place while +you're there. D'you know what I thought? I thought you were goin' out to +get married, and"--he continued gallantly--"I thought he was a deuced +lucky chap." + +She smiled and shook her head. She was not looking at Sir Langham, but +at the long, white, moonlit pathway of foam left in the wake of the +ship. + +"I say," he went on confidentially, "what's your Christian name? I'm +certain they don't call you Janet. Is it Nettie, now? I bet it's +Nettie!" + +"My _family_," said Miss Ross somewhat coldly, "call me Jan." + +"Nice little name," he exclaimed, "but more like a boy's. Now, I never +got a pet name. I started Langham, and Langham I've stopped, and I +flatter myself I've made the name known and respected." + +He wanted her to look at him, and leaned towards her: "Look here, Miss +Ross, I'm goin' to ask you a funny question, and it's not one you can +ask most women--but you're a puzzle. You've got a face like a child, and +yet you're as grey as a badger. What _is_ your age?" + +"I shall be twenty-eight in March." + +She looked at him then, and her grey eyes were so full of amusement +that, incredulous as he usually was as to other people's statements, he +knew that she was speaking the truth. + +"Then why the devil don't you _do_ something _to_ it?" he demanded. + +She laughed. "I couldn't be bothered. And it might turn green, or +something. I don't mind it. It began when I was twenty-three." + +"_I_ don't mind it either," Sir Langham declared magnanimously; "but +it's misleading." + +"I'm sorry," she said demurely. "I wouldn't mislead anyone for the +world." + +"Now, what age should you think _I_ am? But I suppose you know--that's +the worst of being a public character; when one gets nearly a column in +_Who's Who_, everybody knows all about one. That's the penalty of +celebrity." + +"Do you mind people knowing your age?" + +"Not I! Nor anything else about me. _I've_ never done anything to be +ashamed of. Quite the other way, I can assure you." + +"How pleasant that must be," she said quietly. + +Sir Langham turned and looked suspiciously at her; but her face was +guileless and calm, with no trace of raillery, her eyes still fixed on +the long bright track of foam. + +"I suppose you, now," he muttered hoarsely, "always sleep well, go off +directly you turn in--eh?" + +Her quiet eyes met his; little and fierce and truculent, but behind +their rather bloodshot boldness there lurked something else, and with a +sudden pang of pity she knew that it was fear, and that Sir Langham +dreaded the night. + +"As a rule I do," she said gently; "but of course I've known what it is +to be sleepless, and it's horrid." + +"It's hell," said Sir Langham, "and I'm in it every night this voyage, +for I've knocked off morphia and opiates--they were playing the deuce +with my constitution, and I've strength of mind for anything when I +fairly take hold. But it's awful. When d'you suppose natural sleep will +come back?" + +She knew that he did not lack physical courage, that he had fearlessly +faced great dangers in many outposts of the world; but the demon of +insomnia had got a hold of Sir Langham, and he dreaded the night +unspeakably. At that moment there was something pathetic about the +little, boastful, filibustering man. + +"I think you will sleep to-night," she said confidently, "especially if +you go to bed early." + +She half rose as she spoke, but he put his hand on her arm and pressed +her down in her chair again. + +"Don't go yet," he cried. "Keep on tellin' me I'll sleep, and then +perhaps I shall. You look as if you could will people to do things. +You're that quiet sort. Will me, there's a good girl. Tell me again I'll +sleep to-night." + +It was getting late; the music had stopped and the dancers had +disappeared. Miss Ross did not feel over comfortable alone with Sir +Langham so far away from everybody else. Especially as she saw he was +excited and nervous. Had he been drinking? she wondered. But she +remembered that he had proclaimed far and wide that, because of his +gout, he'd made a vow to touch no form of "alcoholic liquor" on the +voyage, except on Christmas and New Year's Day. It was six days since +Christmas, and already Aden was left behind. No, it was just sheer +nervous excitement, and if she could do him any good.... + +"I feel sure you will sleep to-night," she said soothingly, "if you will +do as I tell you." + +"I'll do any mortal thing. I've got a deck-cabin to myself. Will you +keep willin' me when you turn in?" + +"Go to bed now," she said firmly. "Undress quickly, and then think about +nothing ... and I'll do the rest." + +"You will, you promise?" + +"Yes, but you must keep your mind a perfect blank, or I can't do +anything." + +She stood up tall and straight. The moonlight caught her grey hair and +burnished it to an aureole of silver. + +With many grunts Sir Langham pulled himself out of his chair. "No +smokin'-room, eh?" + +"Good night," Miss Ross said firmly, and left him. + +"Don't forget to ask your sister's husband about that chap in the +P.W.D.," he called after her. "He's sure to know all about it. What's +his name?--your brother-in-law, I mean." + +But Miss Ross had disappeared. + +"Now how the devil," he muttered, "am I to make my mind, _my_ mind, a +perfect blank?" + +Two hours later Sir Langham's snores grievously disturbed the occupants +of adjacent cabins. + +In hers, Miss Ross sat by the open porthole reading and re-reading the +mail that had reached her at Aden. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +JAN'S MAIL + + + _Bombay, December 13th._ + + My Dear Jan, + + It was a great relief to get your cable saying definitely + that you were sailing by the _Carnduff_. Misfortunes seem + to have come upon us in such numbers of late that I dreaded + lest your departure might be unavoidably delayed or + prevented. I will not now enter into the painful question + of my shameful treatment by Government, but you can well + understand that I shall leave no stone unturned to reverse + their most unfair and unjust decision, and to bring my + traducers to book. Important business having reference to + these matters calls me away at once, as I feel it is most + essential not to lose a moment, my reputation and my whole + future being at stake. I shall therefore, to my great + regret, be unable to meet you on your arrival in Bombay, + and, as my movements for the next few months will be rather + uncertain, I may find it difficult to let you have regular + news of me. I would therefore advise you to take Fay and + the children home as soon as all is safely over and she is + able to travel, and I will join you in England if and when + I find I can get away. I know, dear Jan, that you will not + mind financing Fay to this extent at present; as, owing to + these wholly unexpected departmental complications, I am + uncommonly hard up. I will, of course, repay you at the + earliest possible opportunity. + + Poor Fay is not at all well; all these worries have been + very bad for her, and I have been distracted by anxiety on + her behalf, as well as about my own most distressing + position, and a severe attack of fever has left me weak and + ailing. I thought it better to bring Fay down to Bombay, + where she can get the best medical advice, and her being + there will save you the long, tiresome journey to + Dariawarpur. It is also most convenient for going home. She + is installed in a most comfortable flat, and we brought our + own servants, so I hope you will feel that I have done my + best for her. + + Fay will explain the whole miserable business to you, and + although appearances may be against me, I trust that you + will realise how misleading these may be. I cannot thank + you enough for responding so promptly to our ardently + expressed desire for your presence at this difficult time. + It will make all the difference in the world to Fay; and, + on her account, to me also. + + Believe me, always yours affectionately, + + HUGO TANCRED. + + _Bombay, Friday._ + + Jan my dear, my dear, are you really on your way? And shall + I see your face and hear your kind voice, and be able to + cry against your shoulder? + + I can't meet you, my precious, because I don't go out. I'm + afraid. Afraid lest I should see anyone who knew us at + Dariawarpur. India is so large and so small, and people + from everywhere are always in Bombay, and I couldn't bear + it. + + Do you know, Jan, that when the very worst has happened, + you get kind of numbed. You can't suffer any more. You + can't be sorry or angry or shocked or indignant, or + anything but just broken, and that's what I am. + + After all, I've one good friend here who knew us at + Dariawarpur. He's got a job at the secretariat, and he + tries to help me all he can. I don't mind him somehow. He + understands. He will meet you and bring you to the + bungalow, so look out for him when the boat gets in. He's + tall and thin and clean-shaven and yellow, with a grave, + stern face and beautiful kind eyes. Peter is an angel, so + be nice to him, Jan dear. It has been awful; it will go on + being awful; but it will be a little more bearable when you + come--for me, I mean--for you it will be horrid. All of us + on your hands, and no money, and me such a crock, and + presently a new baby. The children are well. It's so queer + to think you haven't seen "little Fay." Come soon, Jan, + come soon, to your miserable FAY. + +Jan sat on her bunk under the open porthole. One after the other she +held the letters open in her hand and stared at them, but she did not +read. The sentences were burnt into her brain already. + +Hugo Tancred's letter was dated. Fay's was not, and neither letter bore +any address in Bombay. Now, Jan knew that Bombay is a large town; and +that people like the Tancreds, who, if not actually in hiding, certainly +did not seek to draw attention to their movements, would be hard to +find. Fay had wholly omitted to mention the surname of the tall, thin, +yellow man with the "grave, stern face and beautiful kind eyes." Even in +the midst of her poignant anxiety Jan found herself smiling at this. It +was so like Fay--so like her to give no address. And should the tall, +thin gentleman fail to appear, what was Jan to do? She could hardly go +about the ship asking if one "Peter" had come to fetch her. + +How would she find Fay? + +Would they allow her to wait at the landing-place till someone came, or +were there stringent regulations compelling passengers to leave the +docks with the utmost speed, as most of them would assuredly desire to +do? + +She knitted her brows and worried a good deal about this; then suddenly +put the question from her as too trivial when there were such infinitely +greater problems to solve. + +Only one thing was clear. One central fact shone out, a beacon amidst +the gloom of the "departmental complications" enshrouding the conduct of +Hugo Tancred, the certainty that he had, for the present anyway, shifted +the responsibility of his family from his own shoulders to hers. As she +sat square and upright under the porthole, with the cool air from an +inserted "wind-sail" ruffling her hair, she looked as though she braced +herself to the burden. + +She wished she knew exactly what had happened, what Hugo Tancred had +actually done. For some years she had known that he was by no means +scrupulous in money matters, and that very evening Sir Langham had made +it clear to her that this crookedness had not stopped short at his +official work. There had been a scandal, so far-reaching a scandal that +it had got into the home papers. + +This struck Jan as rather extraordinary, for Hugo Tancred was by no +means a stupid man. + +It is one thing to be pleasantly oblivious of private debts, to omit +cheques in repayment of various necessaries got at the Stores by an +obliging sister-in-law. One thing to muddle away in wild-cat +speculations a wife's money that, but for the procrastination of an +easy-going father, would have been tightly tied up--quite another to +bring himself so nearly within the clutches of the law as to make it +possible for the Government of India to dismiss him. + +And what was he to do? What did the future hold for him? + +Who would give employment to however able a man with such a career +behind him? + +Jan's imagination refused to take such flights. Resolutely she put the +subject from her and began to consider what her own best course would be +with Fay, her nephew and niece, and, very shortly, a new baby on her +hands. + +Jan was not a young woman to let things drift. She had kept house for a +whimsical, happy-go-lucky father since she was fourteen; mothered her +beautiful young sister; and, at her father's death, two years before, +had with quiet decision arranged her own life, wholly avoiding the +discussion and the friction which generally are the lot of an unmarried +woman of five-and-twenty left without natural guardians and with a large +circle of friends and relations. + +It was nearly two o'clock when she undressed and went to bed, and before +that she had drafted two cablegrams--one to a house-agent, the other to +her bankers. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +BOMBAY + + +For Jan the next two days passed as in a more or less disagreeable +dream. She could never afterwards recall very clearly what happened, +except that Sir Langham Sykes seemed absolutely omnipresent, and made +her, she felt, ridiculous before the whole ship, by proclaiming far and +wide that she had bestowed upon him the healing gift of sleep. + +He was so effusive, so palpably grateful, that she simply could not +undeceive him by telling him that after they parted the night before she +had never given him another thought. + +When he was not doing this he was pursuing, with fulminations against +the whole tribe of missionaries, two kindly, quiet members of the +Society of Friends. + +In an evil moment they had gratified his insatiable curiosity as to the +object of their voyage to India, which was to visit and report upon the +missionary work of their community. Once he discovered this he never let +them alone, and the deck resounded with his denunciations of all +Protestant missionaries as "self-seeking, oily humbugs." + +They bore it with well-mannered resignation, and a common dislike for +Sir Langham formed quite a bond of union between them and Jan. + +There was the usual dance on New Year's Eve, the usual singing of "Auld +Lang Syne" in two huge circles; and Jan would have enjoyed it all but +for the heavy foreboding in her heart; for she was a simple person who +responded easily to the emotions of others. Before she could slip away +to bed Sir Langham cornered her again, conjuring her to "will" him to +sleep and "to go on doin' it" after they parted in Bombay. He became +rather maudlin, and she seized the opportunity of telling him that her +best efforts would be wholly unavailing if he at all relaxed the +temperate habits, so necessary for the cure of his gout, that he had +acquired during the voyage. She was stern with Sir Langham, and her +admonitions had considerable effect. He sought his cabin chastened and +thoughtful. + +The boat was due early in the morning. Jan finished most of her packing +before she undressed; then, tired and excited, she could not sleep. A +large cockroach scuttling about her cabin did not tend to calm her +nerves. She plentifully besprinkled the floor with powdered borax, kept +the electric light turned on and the fan whirring, and lay down +wide-awake to wait for the dawn. + +The ship was unusually noisy, but just about four o'clock came a new +sound right outside her porthole--the rush alongside of the boat bearing +the pilot and strange loud voices calling directions in an unknown +tongue. She turned out her light (first peering fearfully under her +berth to make sure no borax-braving cockroach was in ambush) and knelt +on her bed to look out and watch the boat with its turbaned occupants: +big brown men, who shouted to one another in a liquid language full of +mystery. + +For a brief space the little boat was towed alongside the great liner, +then cast off, and presently--far away on the horizon--Jan saw a streak +of pearly pinkish light, as though the soft blue curtain of the night +had been lifted just a little; and against that luminous streak were +hills. + +In spite of her anxiety, in spite of her fears as to the future, Jan's +heart beat fast with pleasurable excitement. She was young and strong +and eager, and here at last was the real East. A little soft wind +caressed her tired forehead and she drank in the blessed coolness of the +early morning. + +Both day and night come quickly in the East. Jan got up, had her bath, +dressed, and by half-past six she was on deck. The dark-blue curtain was +rolled up, and the scene set was the harbour of Bombay. + +Such a gracious haven of strange multi-coloured craft, with its double +coast-line of misty hills on one side, and clear-cut, high-piled +buildings, domes and trees upon the other. + +A gay white-and-gold launch, with its attendants in scarlet and white, +came for certain passengers, who were guests of the Governor. The police +launch, trim and business-like with its cheerful yellow-hatted sepoys, +came for others. Jan watched these favoured persons depart in stately +comfort, and went downstairs to get some breakfast. Then came the rush +of departure by the tender. So many had friends to meet them, and all +seemed full of pleasure in arrival. Jan was just beginning to feel +rather forlorn and anxious when the Purser, fussed and over-driven as he +always is at such times, came towards her, followed by a tall man +wearing a pith helmet and an overcoat. + +"Mr. Ledgard has come to meet you, Miss Ross, so you'll be all right." + +It was amazing how easy everything became. Mr. Ledgard's servants +collected Jan's cabin baggage and took it with them in the tender and, +on arrival, in a tikka-gharri--the little pony-carriage which is the +gondola of Bombay--and almost before she quite realised that the voyage +was over she found herself seated beside Peter in a comfortable +motor-car, with a cheerful little Hindu chauffeur at the steering-wheel, +sliding through wide, well-watered streets, still comparatively empty +because it was so early. + +By mutual consent they turned to look at one another, and Jan noted that +Peter Ledgard _was_ thin and extremely yellow. That his eyes (hollow and +tired-looking as are the eyes of so many officials in the East) _were_ +kind, and she thought she had never before beheld a firmer mouth or more +masterful jaw. + +What Peter saw evidently satisfied him as to her common sense, for he +plunged _in medias res_ at once: "How much do you know of this +unfortunate affair?" he asked. + +"Very little," she answered, "and that little extremely vague. Will you +tell me has Hugo come to total grief or not?" + +"Officially, yes. He is finished, done for--may thank his lucky stars +he's not in gaol. It's well you should know this at the very beginning, +for of course he won't allow it, and poor Fay--Mrs. Tancred (I'm afraid +we're rather free-and-easy about Christian names in India)--doesn't know +the whole facts by a very long way. From what she tells me, I fear he +has made away with most of her money, too. Was any of it tied up?" + +Jan shook her head. "We both got what money there was absolutely on my +father's death." + +"Then," said Peter, "I fear you've got the whole of them on your hands, +Miss Ross." + +"That's what I've come for," Jan said simply, "to take care of Fay and +the children." + +Peter Ledgard looked straight in front of him. + +"It's a lot to put on you," he said slowly, "and I'm afraid you'll find +it a bit more complicated than you expect. Will you remember that I'd +like to help you all I can?" + +Jan looked at the stern profile beside her and felt vaguely comforted. +"I shall be most grateful for your advice," she said humbly. "I know I +shall need it." + +The motor stopped, and as she stepped from it in front of the tall block +of buildings, Jan knew that the old easy, straightforward life was over. +Unconsciously she stiffened her back and squared her shoulders, and +looked very tall and straight as she stood beside Peter Ledgard in the +entrance. The pretty colour he had admired when he met her had faded +from her cheeks, and the face under the shady hat looked grave and +older. + +Peter said something to the smiling lift-man in an extremely dirty dhoti +who stood salaaming in the entrance. + +"I won't come up now," he said to Jan. "Please tell Mrs. Tancred I'll +look in about tea-time." + +As Jan entered the lift and vanished from his sight, Peter reflected, +"So that's the much-talked-of Jan! Well, I'm not surprised Fay wanted +her." + +The lift stopped. An elderly white-clad butler stood salaaming at an +open door, and Jan followed him. + +A few steps through a rather narrow passage and she was in a large light +room opening on to a verandah, and in the centre stood her sister Fay, +with outstretched arms. + +A pathetic, inarticulate, worn and faded Fay: her pretty freshness +dimmed. A Fay with dark circles round her hollow eyes and all the living +light gone from her abundant fair hair. It was as though her face was +covered by an impalpable grey mask. + +There was no doubt about it. Fay looked desperately ill. Ill in a way +not to be accounted for by her condition. + +Clinging together they sat down on an immense sofa, exchanging trivial +question and answer as to the matters ordinary happy folk discuss when +they first meet after a long absence. Jan asked for the children, who +had not yet returned from their early morning walk with the ayah. Fay +asked about the voyage and friends at home, and told Jan she had got +dreadfully grey; then kissed her and leant against her just as she used +to do when they were both children and she needed comfort. + +Jan said nothing to Fay about _her_ looks, and neither of them so much +as mentioned Hugo Tancred. But Jan felt a wild desire to get away by +herself and cry and cry over this sad wraith of the young sister whose +serene and happy beauty had been the family pride. + +And yet she was so essentially the same Fay, tender and loving and +inconsequent, and full of pretty cares for Jan's comfort. + +The dining-room was behind the sitting-room, with only a curtain +between, and as they sat at breakfast Fay was so eager Jan should +eat--she ate nothing herself--so anxious lest she should not like the +Indian food, that poor Jan, with a lump in her throat that choked her at +every morsel, forced down the carefully thought-out breakfast and meekly +accepted everything presented by the grey-haired turbaned butler who +bent over her paternally and offered every dish much as one would tempt +a shy child with some amusing toy. + +Presently Fay took her to see her room, large, bare and airy, with +little furniture save the bed with its clean white mosquito curtains +placed under the electric fan in the centre of the ceiling. Outside the +window was a narrow balcony, and Jan went there at once to look out; and +though her heart was so heavy she was fain to exclaim joyfully at the +beauty of the view. + +Right opposite, across Back Bay, lay the wooded villa-crowned slopes of +Malabar Hill, flung like a garland on the bosom of a sea deeply blue and +smiling, smooth as a lake, while below her lay the pageant of the +street, with its ever-changing panorama of vivid life. The whole so +brilliant, so various, so wholly unlike any beautiful place she had ever +seen before that, artist's daughter she was, she cried eagerly to Fay, +"Oh, come and look! Did you ever see anything so lovely? How Dad would +have rejoiced in this!" + +Fay followed slowly: "I thought you'd like it," she said, evidently +pleased by Jan's enthusiasm, "that's why I gave you this room. Look, +Jan! There are the children coming, those two over by the band-stand. +They see us. _Do_ wave to them." + +The children were still a long way off. Jan could only see an ayah in +her white draperies pushing a little go-cart with a child in it, and a +small boy trotting by her side, but she waved as she was bidden. + +The room had evidently at one time been used as a nursery, for inside +the stone balustrade was a high trellis of wood. Jan and Fay were both +tall women, but even on them the guarding trellis came right up to their +shoulders. Neither of them could really lean over, though Fay tried, in +her eagerness to attract the attention of the little group. Jan watched +her sister's face and again felt that cruel constriction of the throat +that holds back tears. Fay's tired eyes were so sad, so out of keeping +with the cheerful movement of her hand, so shadowed by some knowledge +she could not share. + +"You mustn't stand here without a hat," she said, turning to go in. "The +sun is getting hot. You must get a topee this afternoon. Peter will take +you and help to choose it." + +"Couldn't you come, if we took a little carriage? Does driving tire you +when it's cool?" Jan asked as she followed her sister back into the +room. + +"I never go out," Fay said decidedly. "I never shall again ... I mean," +she added, "till it's all over. I couldn't bear it just now--I might +meet someone I know." + +"But, Fay, it's very bad for you to be always indoors. Surely, in the +early morning or the evening--you'll come out then?" + +Fay shook her head. "Peter has taken me out in the motor once or twice +at night--but I don't really like it. It makes me so dreadfully tired. +Don't worry me about that, Jan. I get plenty of air in the verandah. +It's just as pretty there as in your balcony, and we can have +comfortable chairs. Let's go there now. _You_ shall go out as much as +you like. I'll send Lalkhan with you, or Ayah and the children; and +Peter will take you about all he can--he promised he would. Don't think +I want to be selfish and keep you here with me all the time." + +The flat, weak voice, so nervous, so terrified lest her stronger sister +should force her to some course of action she dreaded, went to Jan's +heart. + +"My dear," she said gently, "I haven't come here to rush about. I've +come to be with you. We'll do exactly what you like best." + +Fay clung to her again and whispered, "Later on you'll understand +better--I'll be able to tell you things, and perhaps you'll understand +... though I'm not sure--you're not weak like me, you'd never go under +... you'd always fight...." + +There was a pattering of small feet in the passage. Little high voices +called for "Mummy," and the children came in. + +Tony, a grave-eyed, pale-faced child of five, came forward instantly, +with his hand held out far in front of him. Jan, who loved little +children, knew in a minute that he was afraid she would kiss him; so she +shook hands with gentlemanly stiffness. Little Fay, on the contrary, ran +forward, held up her arms "to be taken" and her adorably pretty little +face to be kissed. She was startlingly like her mother at the same age, +with bobbing curls of feathery gold, beseeching blue eyes and a +complexion delicately coloured as the pearly pink lining of certain +shells. She was, moreover, chubby, sturdy and robust--quite unlike Tony, +who looked nervous, bleached and delicate. + +Tony went and leant against his mother, regarding Jan and his small +sister with dubious, questioning eyes. + +Presently he remarked, "I wish she hadn't come." + +"Oh, Tony," Fay exclaimed reproachfully, "you must both love Auntie Jan +very dearly. She has come such a long way to be good to us all." + +"I wish she hadn't," Tony persisted. + +"_I_ sall love Auntie Dzan," Fay remarked, virtuously. + +It was pleasant to be cuddled by this friendly baby, and Jan laid her +cheek against the fluffy golden head; but all the time she was watching +Tony. He reminded her of someone, and she couldn't think who. He +maintained his aloof and unfriendly attitude till Ayah came to take the +children to their second breakfast. Little Fay, however, refused to +budge, and when the meekly salaaming ayah attempted to take her, made +her strong little body stiff, and screamed vigorously, clinging so +firmly to her aunt that Jan had herself to carry the obstreperous baby +to the nursery, where she left her lying on the floor, still yelling +with all the strength of her evidently healthy lungs. + +When Jan returned, rather dishevelled--for her niece had seized a +handful of her hair in the final struggle not to be put down--Fay said +almost complacently, "You see, the dear little soul took a fancy to you +at once. Tony is much more reserved and not nearly so friendly. He's +very Scotch, is Tony." + +"He does what he's told, anyway." + +"Oh, not always," Fay said reassuringly, "only when he doesn't mind +doing it. They've both got very strong wills." + +"So have I," said Jan. + +Fay sighed. "It was time you came to keep them in order. I can't." + +This was evident, for Fay had not attempted to interfere with her +daughter beyond saying, "I expect she's hungry, that's why she's so +fretty, poor dear." + +That afternoon Peter went to the flat and was shown as usual into the +sitting-room. + +Jan and the children were in the verandah, all with their backs to the +room, and did not notice his entrance as Jan was singing nursery-rhymes. +Fay sat on her knee, cuddled close as though there were no such thing as +tempers in the world. Tony sat on a little chair at her side, not very +near, but still near enough to manifest a more friendly spirit than in +the morning. Peter waited in the background while the song went on. + + I saw a ship a-sailing, a-sailing on the sea, + And it was full of pretty things for Tony, Fay and me. + There was sugar in the cabin and kisses in the hold---- + +"Whose kisses?" Tony asked suspiciously. + +"Mummy's kisses, of course," said Jan. + +"Why doesn't it _say_ so, then?" Tony demanded. + +"Mummy's kisses in the hold," Jan sang obediently-- + + The sails were made of silk and the masts were made of gold. + Gold, gold, the masts were made of gold. + +"What nelse?" Fay asked before Jan could start the second verse. + + There were four-and-twenty sailors a-skipping on the deck, + And they were little white mice with rings about their neck. + The captain was a duck, with a jacket on his back, + And when the ship began to sail, the captain cried, "Quack! Quack! + Quack! Quack!" The captain cried, "Quack! Quack!" + +"What nelse?" Fay asked again. + +"There isn't any nelse, that's all." + +"Adain," said Fay. + +"Praps," Tony said thoughtfully, "there was _some_ auntie's kisses in +that hold ... just a few...." + +"I'm sure there were," said a new voice, and Peter appeared on the +verandah. + +The children greeted him with effusion, and when he sat down Tony sat on +his knee. He was never assailed by fears lest Peter should want to kiss +him. Peter was not that sort. + +"Sing nunner song," little Fay commanded. + +"Not now," Jan said; "we've got a visitor and must talk to him." + +"Sing nunner song," little Fay repeated firmly, just as though she had +not heard. + +"Not now; some other time," Jan said with equal firmness. + +"Mack!" said the baby, and suited the action to the word by dealing her +aunt a good hard smack on the arm. + +"You mustn't do that," said Jan; "it's not kind." + +"Mack, mack, mack," in _crescendo_ with accompanying blows. + +Jan caught the little hand, while Peter and Tony, interested spectators, +said nothing. She held it firmly. "Listen, little Fay," she said, very +gently. "If you do that again I shall take you to Ayah in the nursery. +Just once again, and you go." + +Jan loosed the little hand, and instantly it dealt her a resounding slap +on the cheek. + +It is of no avail to kick and scream and wriggle in the arms of a +strong, decided young aunt. For the second time that day, a vociferously +struggling baby was borne back to the nursery. + +As the yells died away in the distance, Tony turned right round on +Peter's knee and faced him: "She does what she says," he remarked in an +awestruck whisper. + +"And a jolly good thing too," answered Peter. + +When Jan came back she brought her sister with her. Lalkhan brought tea, +and Tony went with him quite meekly to the nursery. They heard him +chattering to Lalkhan in Hindustani as they went along the passage. + +Fay looked a thought less haggard than in the morning. She had slept +after tiffin; the fact that her sister was actually in the bungalow had +a calming effect upon her. She was quite cheerful and full of plans for +Jan's amusement; plans in which, of course, she proposed to take no part +herself. Jan listened in considerable dismay to arrangements which +appeared to her to make enormous inroads into Peter Ledgard's leisure +hours. He and his motor seemed to be quite at Fay's disposal, and Jan +found the situation both bewildering and embarrassing. + +"What a nuisance for him," she reflected, "to have a young woman thrust +upon him in this fashion. It won't do to upset Fay, but I must tell him +at the first opportunity that none of these projects hold good." + +Directly tea was over Fay almost hustled them out to go and buy a topee +for Jan, and suggested that, having accomplished this, they should look +in at the Yacht Club for an hour, "because it was band-night," and Jan +would like the Yacht Club lawn, with the sea and the boats and all the +cheerful people. + +As the car slid into the crowded traffic of the Esplanade Road, Peter +pointed to a large building on the left, saying, "There's the Army and +Navy Stores, quite close to you, you see. You can always get anything +you want there. I'll give you my number ... not that it matters." + +"I've belonged for years to the one at home," said Jan, "and I +understand the same number will do." + +She felt she really could not be beholden to this strange young man for +everything, even a Stores number; and that she had better make the +situation clear at once that she had come to take care of Fay and not to +be an additional anxiety to him. At that moment she felt almost jealous +of Peter. Fay seemed to turn to him for everything. + +When they reached the shop where topees were to be got, she heard a +familiar, booming voice. Had she been alone she would certainly have +turned and fled, deferring her purchase till Sir Langham Sykes had +concluded his, but she could hardly explain her rather complicated +reasons to Peter, who told the Eurasian assistant to bring topees for +her inspection. + +Jan tried vainly to efface herself behind a tailor's dummy, but her back +was reflected in the very mirror which also reproduced Sir Langham in +the act of trying on a khaki-coloured topee. He saw her and at once +hurried in her direction, exclaiming: + +"Ah, Miss Ross, run to earth! You slipped off this morning without +bidding me good-bye, and I've been wonderin' all day where we should +meet. Now let me advise you about your topee. _I'll_ choose it for you, +then you can't go wrong. Get a large one, mind, or the back of your nice +little neck will be burnt the colour of the toast they gave us on the +_Carnduff_--shockin' toast, wasn't it? No, not that shape, idiot ... +unless you're goin' to ride, are you? If so, you must have one of +each--a large one, I said--what the devil's the use of that? You must +wear it _well_ on your head, mind; you can't show much of that pretty +grey hair that puzzled us all so--eh, w'at?" + +Jan had been white enough as she entered the shop, for she was beginning +to feel quite amazingly tired; but now the face under the overshadowing +topee was crimson and she was hopelessly confused and helpless in the +overpowering of Sir Langham, who, when he could for a moment detach his +mind from Jan, looked with considerable curiosity at Peter. + +Peter stood there silent, aloof, detached; and he appeared quite cool. +Jan felt the atmosphere to be almost insufferably close, and heaved a +sigh of gratitude when he suddenly turned on an electric fan above her +head. + +"I think this will do," she said, in a faint voice to the assistant, +though the crinkly green lining round the crown seemed searing her very +brain. + +Peter intervened, asking: "Is it comfortable? No ..." as she took it +off. "I can see it isn't. It has marked your forehead already. Don't be +in a hurry. They'll probably need to alter the lining. Some women have +it taken out altogether. Pins keep it on all right." + +Thus encouraged, she tried on others, and all the time Sir Langham held +forth at the top of his voice, interrupting his announcement that he was +dining at Government House that very night to swear at the assistant +when he brought topees that did not fit, and giving his opinion of her +appearance with the utmost frankness, till Jan found one that seemed +rather less uncomfortable than the rest. Then in desperation she +introduced Sir Langham to Peter. + +"Your sister-in-law looks a bit tucked up," he remarked affably. "We'd +better take her to the Yacht Club and give her a peg--she seems to feel +the heat." + +Jan cast one despairing, imploring glance at Peter, who rose to the +occasion nobly. + +"You're quite right," he said. "This place is infernally stuffy. Come +on. They know where to send it. Good afternoon sir," and before she +realised what had happened Peter seized her by the arm and swept her out +of the shop and into the front seat of the car, stepped over her and +himself took the steering-wheel. + +While Sir Langham's voice bayed forth a mixture of expostulation and +assignation at the Yacht Club later on. + +"Now where shall we go?" asked Peter. + +"Not the Yacht Club," Jan besought him. "He's coming there; he said so. +Isn't he dreadful? Did you mind very much being taken for my +brother-in-law? He has no idea who he really is, or I wouldn't have let +it pass ... but I felt I could never explain ... I'm so sorry...." + +Her face was white enough now. + +"It would have been absurd to explain, and it's I who should apologise +for the free-and-easy way I carried you off, but it was clearly a case +for strong measures, or he'd have insisted on coming with us. What an +awful little man! Did you have him all the voyage? No wonder you look +tired.... I hope he didn't sit at your table...." + +Once out of doors, the delicious breeze from the sea that springs up +every evening in Bombay revived her. She forgot Sir Langham, for a few +minutes she even forgot Fay and her anxieties in sheer pleasure in the +prospect, as the car fell into its place in the crowded traffic of the +Queen's Road. + +Jan never forgot that drive. He ran her out to Chowpatty, where the +road lies along the shore and the carriages of Mohammedan, Hindu and +Parsee gentlemen stand in serried rows while their picturesque occupants +"eat the air" in passive and contented Eastern fashion; then up to Ridge +Road on Malabar Hill, where he stopped that she might get out and walk +to the edge of the wooded cliff and look down at the sea and the great +city lying bathed in that clear golden light only to be found at sunset +in the East. + +Peter enjoyed her evident appreciation of it all. She said very little, +but she looked fresh and rested again, and he was conscious of a quite +unusual pleasure in her mere presence as they stood together in the +green garden, got and kept by such infinite pains and care, that borders +the road running along the top of Malabar Hill. + +Suddenly she turned. "We mustn't wait another minute," she said. "You, +doubtless, want to go to the club. It has been very good of you to spend +so much time with me. What makes it all so beautiful is that everywhere +one sees the sea. I will tell Fay how much I have enjoyed it." + +Peter's eyes met hers and held them: "Try to think of me as a friend, +Miss Ross. I can see you are thoroughly capable and independent; but, +believe me, India is not like England, and a white woman needs a good +many things done for her here if she's to be at all comfortable. I don't +want to butt in and be a nuisance; but just remember I'm there when the +bell rings----" + +"I am not likely to forget," said Jan. + +Lights began to twinkle in the city below. The soft monotonous throb of +tom-toms came beating through the ambient air like a pulse of teeming +life; and when he left her at her sister's door the purple darkness of +an Eastern night had curtained off the sea. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE BEGINNING OF THE JOB + + +Fay was still lying on her long chair in the verandah when Jan got in. +She had turned on the electric light above her head and had, seemingly, +been working at some diminutive garment of nainsook and lace. She looked +up at Jan's step, asking eagerly, "Well, did you like it? Did you see +many people? Was the band good?" + +Jan sat down beside her and explained that Peter had taken her for a +drive instead. She made her laugh over her encounter with Sir Langham, +and was enthusiastic about the view from Malabar Hill. Then Fay sent her +to say good night to the children, who were just getting ready for bed. + +As she went down the long passage towards the nursery, she heard small +voices chattering in Hindustani, and as she opened the door little Fay +was in the act of stepping out of all her clothes. + +Tony was already clad in pink pyjamas, which made him look paler than +ever. + +Little Fay, naked as any shameless cherub on a Renaissance festoon, +danced across the tiled floor, and, pausing directly in front of her +aunt, announced: + +"I sall mack Ayah as muts as I like." + +The good-natured Goanese ayah salaamed and, beaming upon her charge, +murmured entire acquiescence. + +Jan looked down at the absurd round atom who defied her, and, trying +hard not to laugh, said: + +"Oh, no, you won't." + +"I sall!" the baby declared even more emphatically, and, lifting up her +adorable, obstinate little face to look at Jan, nodded her curly head +vigorously. + +"I think not," Jan remarked rather unsteadily, "because if you do, +people won't like you. We can none of us go about smacking innocent +folks just for the fun of it. Everybody would be shocked and horrified." + +"Socked and hollified," echoed little Fay, delighted with the new words, +"socked and hollified!... What nelse?" + +"What usually follows is that the disagreeable little girl gets smacked +herself." + +"No," said Fay, but a thought doubtfully. "No," more firmly. Then with a +smile that was subtly compounded of pathos and confidence, "Nobody would +mack plitty little Fay ... 'cept ... plapse ... Auntie Dzan." + +The stern aunt in question snatched up her niece to cover her with +kisses. Ayah escaped chastisement that evening, for, arrayed in a white +nighty, "plitty little Fay" sat good as gold on Jan's knee, absorbed in +the interest of "This little pig went to market," told on her own toes. +Even Tony, the aloof and unfriendly, consented to unbend to the extent +of being interested in the dialogue of "John Smith and Minnie Bowl, can +you shoe a little foal?" and actually thrust out his own bare feet that +Jan might make them take part in the drama of the "twa wee doggies who +went to the market," and came back "louper-scamper, louper-scamper." + +At the end of every song or legend came the inevitable "What nelse?" +from little Fay--and Jan only escaped after the most solemn promises had +been exacted for a triple bill on the morrow. + +When she had changed and went back to the sitting-room, dinner was +ready. Lalkhan again bent over her with fatherly solicitude as he +offered each course, and this time Jan, being really hungry, rather +enjoyed his ministrations. A boy assisted at the sideboard, and another +minion appeared to bring the dishes from the kitchen, for the butler and +the boy never left the room for an instant. + +Fay looked like a tired ghost, and Jan could see that it was a great +effort to her to talk cheerfully and seem interested in the home news. + +After dinner they went back to the sitting-room. Lalkhan brought coffee +and Fay lit a cigarette. Jan wandered round, looking at the photographs +and engravings on the walls. + +"How is it," she asked, "that Mr. Ledgard seems to come in so many of +these groups? Did you rent the flat from a friend of his?" + +"I didn't 'rent' the flat from anybody," Fay answered. "It's Peter's own +flat. He lent it to us." + +Jan turned and stared at her sister. "Mr. Ledgard's flat!" she +repeated. "And what is he doing?" + +"He's living at the club just now. He turned out when we came. Don't +look at me like that, Jan.... There was nothing else to be done." + +Jan came back and sat on the edge of the big sofa. "But I understood +Hugo's letter to say...." + +"Whatever Hugo said in his letter was probably lies. If Peter hadn't +lent us his flat, I should have had nowhere to lay my head. Who do you +suppose would let us a flat here, after all that has happened, unless we +paid in advance, and how could we do that without any ready money? Why, +a flat like this unfurnished costs over three hundred rupees a month. I +don't know what a furnished flat would be." + +"But--isn't it ... taking a great deal from Mr. Ledgard?" Jan asked +timidly. + +Fay stretched out her hand and suddenly switched off the lights, so that +they were left together on the big sofa in the soft darkness. + +"Give me your hand, Jan. I shall be less afraid of you when I just feel +you and can't see you." + +"Why should you be afraid of me?... Dear, dear Fay, you must remember +how little I really know. How can I understand?" + +Fay leant against her sister and held her close. "Sometimes I feel as if +I couldn't understand it all myself. But you mustn't worry about Peter's +flat. We'll all go home the minute I can be moved. He doesn't mind, +really ... and there was nothing else to be done." + +"Does Hugo know you are here?" + +Fay laughed, a sad, bitter little laugh. "It was Hugo who asked Peter to +lend his flat." + +"Then what about his servants? What has he done with them while you are +here?" + +"These are his servants." + +"But Hugo said...." + +"Jan, dear, it is no use quoting Hugo to me. I can tell you the sort of +thing he would say.... Did he mention Peter at all?" + +"Certainly not. He said you were 'installed in a most comfortable flat' +and had brought your own servants." + +"I brought Ayah--naturally, Peter hadn't an ayah. But why do you object +to his servants? They're very good." + +"But don't they think it ... a little odd?" + +"Oh, you can't bother about what servants think in India. They think us +all mad anyway." + +There was silence for a few minutes while Jan realised the fact that, +dislike it as she might, she seemed fated to be laid under considerable +obligation to Mr. Peter Ledgard. + +"Where is Hugo?" she asked at last. + +"My dear, you appear to have heard from Hugo since I have. As to his +whereabouts I haven't the remotest idea." + +"Do you mean to say, Fay, that he hasn't let you know where he is?" + +"He didn't come with us to the flat because he was afraid he'd be seized +for debts and things. We've only been here a fortnight. He's probably +on board ship somewhere--there hasn't been much time for him to let me +know...." + +Fay spoke plaintively, as though Jan were rather hard on Hugo in +expecting him to give his wife any account of his movements. + +Jan was glad it was dark. She felt bewildered and oppressed and very, +very angry with her brother-in-law, who seemed to have left his entire +household in the care of Peter Ledgard. Was Peter paying for their very +food, she wondered? She'd put a stop to that, anyhow. + +"Jan"--she felt Fay lean a little closer--"don't be down on me. You've +no idea how hard it has all been. You're such a daylight person +yourself." + +"Hard on you, my precious! I could never feel the least little bit hard. +Only it's all so puzzling. And what do you mean by a 'daylight person'?" + +"You know, Jan, for three months now I've been a lot alone, and I've +done a deal of thinking--more than ever in all my life before; and it +seems to me that the world is divided into three kinds of people--the +daylight people, and the twilight people and the night people." + +Fay paused. Jan stroked her hot, thin hand, but did not speak, and the +tired, whispering voice went on: "_We_ were daylight people--Daddie was +very daylight. There were never any mysteries; we all of us knew always +where each of us was, and there were no secrets and no queer people +coming for interviews, and it wouldn't have mattered very much if +anyone _had_ opened one of our letters. Oh, it's such an _easy_ life in +the daylight country...." + +"And in the twilight country?" asked Jan. + +"Ah, there it's very different. Everything is mysterious. You never know +where anyone has gone, and if he's away queer people--quite horrid +people--come and ask for him and won't go away, and sit in the verandah +and cheek the butler and the boy and insist on seeing the 'memsahib,' +and when she screws up her courage and goes to them, they ask for money, +and show dirty bits of paper and threaten, and it's all awful--till +somebody like Peter comes and kicks them out, and then they simply fly." + +In spite of her irritation at being beholden to him, Jan began to feel +grateful to Peter. + +"Sometimes," Fay continued, "I think it would be easier to be a night +person. They've no appearances to keep up. You see, what makes it so +difficult for the twilight people is that they _want_ to live in the +daylight, and it's too strong for them. All the night people whom they +know--and if you're twilight you know lots of 'em--come and drag them +back. _They_ don't care. They rather like to go right in among the +daylight folk and scare and shock them, and make them uncomfortable. You +_can't_ suffer in the same way when you've gone under altogether." + +"But, Fay dear," Jan interposed, "you talk as though the twilight people +couldn't help it...." + +"They can't--they truly can't." + +"But surely there's right and wrong, straightness and crookedness, and +no one _need_ be crooked." + +"People like you needn't--but everybody isn't strong like that. Hugo +says every man has his price, and every woman too--Peter says so, too." + +"Then Peter ought to be ashamed of himself. Do you suppose _he_ has his +price?" + +"No, not in that way. He'd think it silly to be pettifogging and +dishonest about money, or to go in for mad speculations run by shady +companies; but he wouldn't think it _extraordinary_ like you." + +"I'm afraid my education has been neglected. A great many things seem +extraordinary to me." + +"You think it funny I should be living in Peter's flat, waited on by +Peter's servants--but what else could I do?" + +Jan smiled in the darkness. She saw where her niece had got "what +nelse?" + +"Isn't it just a little--unusual?" she asked gently. "Is there no money +at all, Fay? What has become of all your own?" + +"It's not all gone," Fay said eagerly. "I think there's nearly two +thousand pounds left, but Peter made me write home--that was at +Dariawarpur, before he came down here--and say no more was to be sent +out, not even if I wrote myself to ask for it--and _he_ wrote to Mr. +Davidson too----" + +"I know somebody wrote. Mr. Davidson was very worried ... but what _can_ +Hugo have done with eight thousand pounds in two years? Besides his +pay...." + +"Eight thousand pounds doesn't go far when you've dealings with +money-lenders and mines in Peru--but _I_ don't understand it--don't ask +me. I believe he left me a little money--I don't know how much--at a +bank in Elphinstone Circle--but I haven't liked to write and find out, +lest it should be very little ... or none...." + +"Mercy!" exclaimed Jan. "It surely would be better to know for certain." + +"When you've lived in the twilight country as long as I have you'll not +want to know anything for certain. It's only when things are wrapped up +in a merciful haze of obscurity that life is tolerable at all. Do you +suppose I _wanted_ to find out that my husband was a rascal? I shut my +eyes to it as long as I could, and then Truth came with all her cruel +tools and pried them open. Oh, Jan, it did hurt so!" + +If Fay had cried, if her voice had even broken or she had seemed deeply +moved, it would have been more bearable. It was the poor thing's +calm--almost indifference--that frightened Jan. For it proved that her +perceptions were numbed. + +Fay had been tortured till she could feel nothing acutely any more. Jan +had the feeling that in some dreadful, inscrutable way her sister was +shut away from her in some prison-house of the mind. + +And who shall break through those strange, intangible, impenetrable +walls of unshared experience? + +Jan swallowed her tears and said cheerfully: "Well, it's all going to be +different now. You needn't worry about anything any more. If Hugo has +left no money we'll manage without. Mr. Davidson will let me have what I +want ... but we must be careful, because of the children." + +"And you'll try not to mind living in Peter's flat?" Fay said, rubbing +her head against Jan's shoulder. "It's India, you know, and men are very +kind out here--much friendlier than they are at home." + +"So it seems." + +"You needn't think there's anything wrong, Jan. Peter isn't in love with +me now." + +"Was he ever in love with you?" + +"Oh, yes, a bit, once; when he first came to Dariawarpur ... lots of +them were then. I really was very pretty, and I had quite a little court +... but when the bad times came and people began to look shy at +Hugo--everybody was nice to me always--then Peter seemed different. +There was no more philandering, he was just ... Oh, Jan, he was just +such a daylight person, and might have been Daddie. I should have died +without him." + +"Fay, tell me--I'll never ask again--was Hugo unkind to you?" + +"No, Jan, truly not unkind. He shut me away from the greater part of his +life ... and there were other people ... not ladies"--Fay felt the +shoulder she leant against stiffen--"but I didn't know that for quite a +long time ... and he wasn't ever surly or cross or grudging. He always +wanted me to have everything very nice, and I really believe he always +hoped the mines and things would make lots of money.... You know, Jan, +I'd _rather_ believe in people. I daresay you think I'm weak and stupid +... but I can never understand wives who set detectives on their +husbands." + +"It isn't done by the best people," Jan said with a laugh that was half +a sob. "Let's hope it isn't often necessary...." + +Fay drew a little closer: "Oh, you are dear not to be stern and +scolding...." + +"It's not you I feel like scolding." + +"If you scolded him, he'd agree with every word, so that you simply +couldn't go on ... and then he'd go away and do just the same things +over again, and fondly hope you'd never hear of it. But he _was_ kind in +lots of ways. He didn't drink----" + +"I don't see anything so very creditable in that," Jan interrupted. + +"Well, it's one of the things he didn't do--and we had the nicest +bungalow in the station and by far the best motor--a much smarter motor +than the Resident. And it was only when I discovered that Hugo had made +out I was an heiress that I began to feel uncomfortable." + +"Was he good to the children?" + +"He hardly saw them. Children don't interest him much. He liked little +Fay because she's so pretty, but I don't think he cared a great deal for +Tony. Tony is queer and judging. Don't take a dislike to Tony, Jan; he +needs a long time, but once you've got him he stays for ever--will you +remember that?" + +Again, Jan felt that cold hand laid on her heart, the hand of chill +foreboding. She had noticed many times already that when Fay was off her +guard she always talked as though, for her, everything were ended, and +she was only waiting for something. There seemed no permanence in her +relations with them all. + +A shadowy white figure lifted the curtain between the two rooms and +stood salaaming. + +Jan started violently. She was not yet accustomed to the soundless naked +feet of the servants whose presence might be betrayed by a rustle, never +by a step. + +It was Ayah waiting to know if Fay would like to go to bed. + +"Shall I go, Jan? Are you tired?" + +Jan was, desperately tired, for she had had no sleep the night before, +but Fay's voice had in it a little tremor of fear that showed she +dreaded the night. + +"Send her to bed, poor thing. I'll look after you, brush your hair and +tuck you up and all.... Fay, oughtn't you to have somebody in your room? +Couldn't my cot be put in there, just to sleep?" + +"Oh, Jan, would you? Don't you mind?" + +"Shall I help her to move it?" Jan said, getting up. + +Fay pulled her down again. "You funny Jan, you can't do that sort of +thing here. The servants will do it." + +She sat up, gave a rapid, eager order to Ayah, and in a few minutes Jan +heard her bed being wheeled down the passage. Every room had wide +double doors--like French rooms--and there was no difficulty. + +Fay sank down again among her cushions with a great sigh of relief: "I +don't mind now how soon I go to bed. I shan't be frightened in the long +dark night any more. Oh, Jan, you _are_ a dear daylight person!" + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE CHILDREN + + +Jan made headway with Tony and little Fay. An aunt who carried one +pick-a-back; who trotted, galloped, or curvetted to command as an +animated steed; who provided spades and buckets, and herself, getting up +very early, took them and the children to an adorable sandy beach, +deserted save for two or three solitary horsemen; an aunt who dug holes +and built castles and was indirectly the means of thrilling rides upon a +real horse, when Peter was encountered as one of the mounted few taking +exercise before breakfast; such an aunt could not be regarded otherwise +than as an acquisition, even though she did at times exert authority and +insist upon obedience. + +She got it, too; especially from little Fay, who, hitherto, had obeyed +nobody. Tony, less wilful and not so prone to be destructive, was +secretly still unwon, though outwardly quite friendly. He waited and +watched and weighed Jan in the balance of his small judgment. Tony was +never in any hurry to make up his mind. + +One great hold Jan had was a seemingly inexhaustible supply of rhymes, +songs, and stories, and she was, moreover, of a telling disposition. + +Both children had a quite unusual passion for new words. Little Fay +would stop short in the midst of the angriest yells if anyone called her +conduct in question by some new term of opprobrium. Ayah's vocabulary +was limited, even in the vernacular, and nothing would have induced her +to return railing for railing to the children, however sorely they +abused her. But Jan occasionally freed her mind, and at such times her +speech was terse and incisive. Moreover, she quickly perceived her power +over her niece in this respect, and traded on the baby's quick ear and +interest. + +One day there was a tremendous uproar in the nursery just after tiffin, +when poor Fay usually tried to get the sleep that would partially atone +for her restless night. Jan swept down the passage and into the room, to +find her niece netted in her cot, and bouncing up and down like a +newly-landed trout, while Ayah wrestled with a struggling Tony, who +tried to drown his sister's screams with angry cries of "Let me get at +her to box her," and, failing that, vigorously boxing Ayah. + +Jan closed the door behind her and stood where she was, saying in the +quiet, compelling voice they had both already learned to respect: "It's +time for Mummy's sleep, and how can Mummy sleep in such a pandemonium?" + +Little Fay paused in the very middle of a yell and her face twinkled +through the restraining net. + +"Pandemolium," she echoed, joyously rolling it over on her tongue with +obvious gusto. + +"Pandemolium." + +"She kickened and fit with me," Tony cried angrily. "I _must_ box her." + +"Pandemolium?" little Fay repeated inquiringly. "What nelse?" + +"Yes," said Jan, trying hard not to laugh; "that's exactly what it was +... disgraceful." + +"What nelse?" little Fay persisted. She had heard disgraceful before. It +lacked novelty. + +"All sorts of horrid things," said Jan. "Selfish and odious and +ill-bred----" + +"White bled, blown bled, ill-bled," the person under the net chanted. +"What nother bled?" + +"There's well-bred," said Jan severely, "and that's what neither you nor +Tony are at the present moment." + +"There's toas' too," said the voice from under the net, ignoring the +personal application. "Sall we have some?" + +"Certainly not," Jan answered with great sternness. "People who riot and +brawl----" + +"Don't like zose words," the netted one interrupted distastefully (R's +always stumped her), "naughty words." + +"Not so naughty as the people who do it. Has Ayah had her dinner? No? +Then poor Ayah must go and have it, and I shall stay here and tell a +very soft, whispery story to people who are quiet and good, who lie in +their cots and don't quarrel----" + +"Or blawl" came from the net in a small determined voice. She could not +let the new word pass after all. + +"Exactly ... or brawl," Jan repeated in tones nothing like so firm. + +"She kickened and fit me, she did," Tony mumbled moodily as he climbed +into his cot: "Can't I box her nor nothing?" + +"Not now," Jan said, soothingly. Ayah salaamed and hurried away. She, at +all events, had cause to bless Jan, for now she got her meals with fair +regularity and in peace. + +In a few minutes the room was as quiet as an empty church, save for a +low voice that related an interminable story about "Cockie-Lockie and +Henny-Penny going to tell the King the lift's fallen," till one, at all +events, of the "blawlers" was sound asleep. + +The voice ceased and Tony's head appeared over the rail of his cot. + +"Hush!" Jan whispered. "Sister's asleep. Just wait a few minutes till +Ayah comes, then I'll take you away with me." + +Faithful Ayah didn't dawdle over her food. She returned, sat down on the +floor beside little Fay's cot and started her endless mending. + +Jan carried Tony away with her along the passage and into the +drawing-room. The verandah was too hot in the early afternoon. + +"Now what shall we do?" she asked, with a sigh, as she sat down on the +big sofa. "_I'd_ like to sleep, but I suppose you won't let me." + +Tony got off her knee and looked at her gravely. + +"You can," he said, magnanimously, "because you brought me. I hate bed. +I'll build a temple with my bricks and I won't knock it down. Not +loud." + +And like his aunt he did what he said. + +Jan put her feet up and lay very still. For a week now she had risen +early every morning to take the children out in the freshest part of the +day. She seldom got any rest in the afternoon, as she saw to it that +they should be quiet to let Fay sleep, and she went late to bed because +the cool nights in the verandah were the pleasant time for Fay. + +Tony murmured to himself, but he made little noise with his stone +bricks. And presently Jan was sleeping almost as soundly as her +obstreperous niece. + +Tony did not repeat new words aloud as did his sister. He turned them +over in his mind and treasured some simply because he liked the sound of +them. + +There were two that he had carried in his memory for nearly half his +life; two that had for him a mysterious fascination, a vaguely agreeable +significance that he couldn't at all explain. One was "Piccadilly" and +the other "Coln St. Aldwyn's." He didn't even know that they were the +names of places at first, but he thought they had a most beautiful +sound. Gradually the fact that they were places filtered into his mind, +and for Tony Piccadilly seemed particularly rural. He connected it in +some way with the duck-slaying Mrs. Bond of the Baby's Opera, a book he +and Mummy used to sing from before she grew too tired and sad to sing. +Before she lay so many hours in her long chair, before the big man he +called Daddie became so furtive and disturbing. Then Mummy used to tell +him things about a place called Home, and though she never actually +mentioned Piccadilly he had heard the word very often in a song that +somebody sang in the drawing-room at Dariawarpur. + +Theatricals had been towards and Mummy was acting, and people came to +practise their songs with her, for not only did she sing herself +delightfully, but she played accompaniments well for other people. The +play was a singing play, and the Assistant Superintendent of Police, a +small, fair young man with next to no voice and a very clear +enunciation, continually practised a song that described someone as +walking "down Piccadilly with a tulip or a lily in his mediaeval hand." + +Tony rather liked "mediaeval" too, but not so much as Piccadilly. A +flowery way, he was sure, with real grass in it like the Resident's +garden. Besides, the "dilly" suggested "daffy-down dilly come up to town +in a yellow petticoat and a green gown." + +But not even Piccadilly could compete with Coln St. Aldwyn's in Tony's +affections. There was something about that suggestive of exquisite peace +and loveliness, no mosquitoes and many friendly beasts. He had only +heard the word once by chance in connection with the mysterious place +called Home, in some casual conversation when no one thought he was +listening. He seized upon it instantly and it became a priceless +possession, comforting in times of stress, soothing at all times, a sort +of refuge from a real world that had lately been very puzzling for a +little boy. + +He was certain that at Coln St. Aldwyn's there was a mighty forest +peopled by all the nicest animals. Dogs that were ever ready to extend a +welcoming paw, elephants and mild clumsy buffaloes that gave good milk +to the thirsty. Little grey squirrels frolicked in the branches of the +trees, and the tiny birds Mummy told him about that lived in the yew +hedge at Wren's End. Tony had himself been to Wren's End he was told, +but he was only one at the time, and beyond a feeling that he liked the +name and that it was a very green place his ideas about it were hazy. + +Sometimes he wished it had been called "Wren St. Endwyn's," but after +mature reflection he decided it was but a poor imitation of the real +thing, so he kept the two names separate in his mind. + +He had added two more names to his collection since he came to Bombay. +"Mahaluxmi," the road running beside the sea, where Peter sometimes took +them and Auntie Jan for a drive after tea when it was high tide; and +"Taraporevala," who owned a famous book-shop in Medow Street where he +had once been in a tikka-gharri with Auntie Jan to get some books for +Mummy. Peter had recommended the shop, and the name instantly seized +upon Tony's imagination and will remain with it evermore. He never for +one moment connected it with the urbane gentleman in eyeglasses and a +funny little round hat who owned the shop. For Tony "Taraporevala" will +always suggest endless vistas of halls, fitted with books, shelves, and +tall stacks of books, and counters laden with piles of books. It seemed +amazing to find anything so vast in such a narrow street. There was +something magic about it, like the name. Tony was sure that some day +when he should explore the forest of Coln St. Aldwyn he would come upon +a little solid door in a great rock. A little solid door studded with +heavy nails and leading to a magic cave full of unimaginable treasure. +This door should only open to the incantation of "Taraporevala." None of +your "abracadabras" for him. + +And just as Mummy had talked much of "Wren's End" in happier days, so +now Auntie Jan told them endless stories about it and what they would +all do there when they went home. Some day, when he knew her better, he +would ask her about Coln St. Aldwyn's. He felt he didn't know her +intimately enough to do so yet, but he was gradually beginning to have +some faith in her. She was a well-instructed person, too, on the whole, +and she answered a straight question in a straight way. + +It was one of the things Tony could never condone in the big man called +Daddie, that he could never answer the simplest question. He always +asked another in return, and there was derision of some sort concealed +in this circuitous answer. Doubtless he meant to be pleasant and +amusing--Tony was just enough to admit that--but he was, so Tony felt, +profoundly mistaken in the means he sought. He took liberties, too; +punching liberties that knocked the breath out of a small boy's body +without actually hurting much; and he never, never talked sense. Tony +resented this. Like the Preacher, he felt there was a time to jest and a +time to refrain from jesting, and it didn't amuse him a bit to be +punched and rumpled and told he was a surly little devil if he attempted +to punch back. In some vague way Tony felt that it wasn't playing the +game--if it was a game. Often, too, for the past year and more, he +connected the frequent disappearances of the big man with trouble for +Mummy. Tony understood Hindustani as well as and better than English. +His extensive vocabulary in the former would have astonished his +mother's friends had they been able to translate, and he understood a +good deal of the servants' talk. He felt no real affection for the big, +tiresome man, though he admired him, his size, his good looks, and a way +he had with grown-up people; but he decided quite dispassionately, on +evidence and without any rancour, that the big man was a "budmash," for +he, unlike Auntie Jan, never did anything he said he'd do. And when, +before they left Dariawarpur, the big man entirely disappeared, Tony +felt no sorrow, only some surprise that having said he was going he +actually had gone. Auntie Jan never mentioned him, Mummy had reminded +them both always to include him when they said their prayers, but +latterly Mummy had been too tired to come to hear prayers. Auntie Jan +came instead, and Tony, watching her face out of half-shut eyes, tried +leaving out "bless Daddie" to see if anything happened. Sure enough +something did; Auntie Jan looked startled. "Say 'Bless Daddie,' Tony, +'and please help him.'" + +"To do what?" Tony asked. "Not to come back here?" + +"I don't think he'll come back here just now," Auntie Jan said in a +frightened sort of whisper, "but he needs help badly." + +Tony folded his hands devoutly and said, "Bless Daddie and please help +him--to stay away just now." + +And low down under her breath Jan said, "Amen." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE SHADOW BEFORE + + +Jan had been a week in Bombay, and her grave anxiety about Fay was in no +way lessened. Rather did it increase and intensify, for not only did her +bodily strength seem to ebb from her almost visibly day by day, but her +mind seemed so detached and aloof from both present and future. + +It was only when Jan talked about the past, about their happy girlhood +and their lovable comrade-father, that Fay seemed to take hold and +understand. All that had happened before his death seemed real and vital +to her. But when Jan tried to interest her in plans for the future, the +voyage home, the children, the baby that was due so soon, Fay looked at +her with tired, lack-lustre eyes and seemed at once to become +absent-minded and irrelevant. + +She was ready enough to discuss the characters of the children, to +impress upon Jan the fact that Tony was not unloving, only cautious and +slow before he really gave his affection. That little Fay was exactly +what she appeared on the surface--affectionate, quick, wilful, and +already conscious of her own power through her charm. + +"I defy anybody to quarrel with Fay when she is willing to make it up," +her mother said. "Tony melts like wax before the warmth of her +advances. She may have behaved atrociously to him five minutes +before--Ayah lets her, and I am far too weak with her--but if _she_ +wants to be friends Tony forgets and condones everything. Was I very +naughty to you, Jan, as a baby?" + +"Not that I can remember. I think you were very biddable and good." + +"And you?" + +Jan laughed--"There you have me. I believe I was most naughty and +obstreperous, and have vivid recollections of being sent to bed for +various offences. You see, Mother was far too strong and wise to spoil +me as little Fay is spoilt. Father tried his best, but you remember +Hannah? Could you imagine Hannah submitting for one moment to the sort +of treatment that baby metes out to poor, patient Ayah every single +day?" + +"By the way, how is Hannah?" + +"Hannah is in her hardy usual. She is going strong, and has developed +all sorts of latent talent as a cook. She was with me in the furnished +flat I rented till the day I left (I only took it by the month), and +she'll be with us again when we all get back to Wren's End." + +"But I thought Wren's End was let?" + +"Only till March quarter-day, and I've cabled to the agent not to +entertain any other offer, as we want it ourselves." + +"I like to think of the children at Wren's End," Fay said dreamily. + +"Don't you like to think of yourself there, too? Would you like any +other place better?" + +Jan's voice sounded constrained and a little hard. People sometimes +speak crossly when they are frightened, and just then Jan felt the cold, +skinny hands of some unnameable terror clutching her heart. Why did Fay +always exclude herself from all plans? + +They were, as usual, sitting in the verandah after dinner, and Fay's +eyes were fixed on the deeply blue expanse of sky. She hardly seemed to +hear Jan, for she continued: "Do you remember the sketch Daddie did of +me against the yew hedge? I'd like Tony to have that some day if you'd +let him." + +"Of course that picture is yours," Jan said, hastily. "We never divided +the pictures when he died. Some were sold and we shared the money, but +our pictures are at Wren's End." + +"I remember that money," Fay interrupted. "Hugo was so pleased about it, +and gave me a diamond chain." + +"Fay, where do you keep your jewellery?" + +"There isn't any to keep now. He 'realised' it all long before we left +Dariawarpur." + +"What do you mean, Fay? Has Hugo pawned it? All Mother's things, too?" + +"I don't know what he did with it," Fay said, wearily. "He told me it +wasn't safe in Dariawarpur, as there were so many robbers about that hot +weather, and he took all the things in their cases to send to the bank. +And I never saw them again." + +Jan said nothing, but she reflected rather ruefully that when Fay +married she had let her have nearly all their mother's ornaments, partly +because Fay loved jewels as jewels, and Jan cared little for them +except as associations. "If I'd kept more," Jan thought, "they'd have +come in for little Fay. Now there's nothing except what Daddie gave me." + +"Are you sorry, Jan?" Fay asked, presently. "I suppose there again you +think I ought to have stood out, to have made inquiries and insisted on +getting a receipt from the bank. But I knew very well they were not +going to the bank. I don't think they fetched much, but Hugo looked a +little less harassed after he'd got them. I've nothing left now but my +wedding ring and the little enamel chain like yours, that Daddie gave us +the year he had that portrait of Meg in the Salon and took us over to +see it. Where is Meg? Has she come back yet?" + +"Meg is still in Bremen with an odious German family, but she leaves at +the end of the Christmas holidays, as the girl is going to school, and +Meg will be utilised to bring her over. Then she's to have a rest for a +month or two, and I daresay she'd come to Wren's End and help us with +the babies when we get back." + +Fay leant forward and said eagerly, "Try to get her, Jan. I'd love to +think she was there to help you." + +"To help us," Jan repeated firmly. + +Fay sighed. "I can never think of myself as of much use any more; +besides ... Oh, Jan, won't you face it? You who are so brave about +facing things ... I don't believe I shall come through--this time." + +Jan got up and walked restlessly about the verandah. She tried to make +herself say, heard her own voice saying without any conviction, that it +was nonsense; that Fay was run down and depressed and no wonder; and +that she would feel quite different in a month or two. And all the time, +though her voice said these preposterously banal things, her brain +repeated the doctor's words after his last visit: "I wish there was a +little more stamina, Miss Ross. I don't like this complete inertia. It's +not natural. Can't you rouse her at all?" + +"My sister has had a very trying time, you know. She seems thoroughly +worn out." + +"I know, I know," the doctor had said. "A bad business and cruelly hard +on her; but I wish we could get her strength up a bit somehow. I don't +like it--this lack of interest in everything--I don't like it." And the +doctor's thin, clever face looked lined and worried as he left. + +His words rang in Jan's ears, drowning her own spoken words that seemed +such a hollow sham. + +She went and knelt by Fay's long chair. Fay touched her cheek very +gently (little Fay had the same adorable tender gestures). "It would +make it easier for both of us if you'd face it, my dear," she said. "I +could talk much more sensibly then and make plans, and perhaps really be +of some use. But I feel a wretched hypocrite to talk of sharing in +things when I know perfectly well I shan't be there." + +"Don't you want to be there?" Jan asked, hoarsely. + +[Illustration: "It would make it easier for both of us if you'd face it, +my dear."] + +Fay shook her head. "I know it's mean to shuffle out of it all, but I +_am_ so tired. Do you think it very horrid of me, Jan?" + +In silence Jan held her close; and in that moment she faced it. + +The days went on, strange, quiet days of brilliant sunshine. Their daily +life shrouded from the outside world even as the verandah was shrouded +from the sun when Lalkhan let down the chicks every day after tiffin. + +Peter was their only visitor besides the doctor, and Peter came +practically every day. He generally took Jan out after tea, sometimes +with the children, sometimes alone. He even went with her to the bank in +Elphinstone Circle, so like a bit of Edinburgh, with its solid stone +houses, and found that Hugo actually had lodged fifty pounds there in +Fay's name. The clerks looked curiously at Jan, for they thought she was +Mrs. Tancred. Every one in business or official circles in Bombay knew +about Hugo Tancred. His conduct had, for a while, even ousted the usual +topics of conversation--money, food, and woman--from the bazaars; and an +exhaustive discussion of it was only kept out of the Native Press by the +combined efforts of the Police and his own Department. Jan gained from +Peter a fairly clear idea of the _debacle_ that had occurred in Hugo +Tancred's life. She no longer wondered that Fay refused to leave the +bungalow. She began to feel branded herself. + +For Jan, Peter's visits had come to have something of the relief the +loosening of a too-tight bandage gives to a wounded man. He generally +came at tea-time when Fay was at her best, and he brought her news of +her little world at Dariawarpur. To her sister he seemed the one link +with reality. Without him the heavy dream would have gone on unbroken. +Fay was always most eager he should take Jan out, and, though at first +Jan had been unwilling, she gradually came to look upon such times as a +blessed break in the monotonous restraint of her day. With him she was +natural, said what she felt, expressed her fears, and never failed to +return comforted and more hopeful. + +One night he took her to the Yacht Club, and Jan was glad she had gone, +because it gave her so much to tell Fay when she got back. + +It was a very odd experience for Jan, this tea on the crowded lawn of +the Yacht Club. She turned hot when people looked at her, and Jan had +always felt so sure of herself before, so proud to be a daughter of +brilliant, lovable Anthony Ross. + +Here, she knew that her sole claim to notice was that she had the +misfortune to be Hugo Tancred's sister-in-law. Fay, too, had once been +joyfully proud and confident--and now! + +Sometimes in the long, still days Jan wondered whether their father had +brought them up to expect too much from life, to take their happiness +too absolutely as a matter of course. Anthony Ross had fully subscribed +to the R.L.S. doctrine that happiness is a duty. When they were both +quite little girls he had loved to hear them repeat: + + If I have faltered more or less + In my great task of happiness; + If I have moved among my race + And shown no glorious morning face; + If beams from happy human eyes + Have moved me not; if morning skies, + Books, and my food and summer rain + Knocked on my sullen heart in vain; + Lord, Thy most pointed pleasure take, + And stab my spirit broad awake. + +Surely as young girls they had both shown a "glorious morning face." Who +more so than poor Fay? So gay and beautiful and kind. Why had this come +upon her, this cruel, numbing disgrace and sorrow? Jan was thoroughly +rebellious. Again she went over that time in Scotland six years before, +when, at a big shooting-box up in Sutherland, they met, among other +guests, handsome Hugo Tancred, home on leave. How he had, almost at +first sight, fallen violently in love with Fay. How he had singled her +out for every deferent and delicate attention; how she, young, +enthusiastic, happy and flattered, had fallen quite equally in love with +him. Jan recalled her father's rather comical dismay and astonishment. +His horror when they pressed an immediate marriage, so that Fay might go +out with Hugo in November. And his final giving-in to everything Fay +wanted because Fay wanted it. + +Did her father really like Hugo Tancred? she wondered. And then came the +certainty that he wouldn't ever have liked anybody much who wanted to +marry either of them; but he was far too just and too imaginative to +stand in the way where, what seemed, the happiness of his daughter was +concerned. + +"What a gamble it all is," thought Jan, and felt inclined to thank +heaven that she was neither so fascinating nor as susceptible as Fay. + +How were they to help to set Hugo Tancred on his legs again, and +reconstruct something of a future for Fay? And then there always +sounded, like a knell, Fay's tired, pathetic voice: "Don't bother to +make plans for me, Jan. For the children, yes, as much as you like. You +are so clever and constructive--but leave me out, dear, for it's just a +waste of time." + +And the dreadful part of it was that Jan felt a growing conviction that +Fay was right. And what was more, that Peter felt about it exactly as +Fay did, in spite of his matter-of-fact optimism at all such times as +Jan dared to express her dread. + +Peter learned a good deal about the Ross family in those talks with Jan. +She was very frank about her affairs, told him what money she had and +how it was invested. That the old house in Gloucestershire was hers, +left directly to her and not to her father, by a curious freak on the +part of his aunt, one Janet Ross, who disapproved of Anthony's habit of +living up to whatever he made each year by his pictures, and saving +nothing that he earned. + +"My little girls are safe, anyway," he always said. "Their mother's +money is tied up on them, though they don't get it except with my +sanction till my death. I can't touch the capital. Why, then, shouldn't +we have an occasional flutter when I have a good year, while we are all +young and can enjoy things?" + +They had a great many flutters--for Anthony's pictures sold well among a +rather eclectic set. His portraits had a certain _cachet_ that gave them +a vogue. They were delicate, distinguished, and unlike other work. The +beauties without brains never succeeded in getting Anthony Ross to paint +them, bribed they never so. But the clever beauties were well satisfied, +and the clever who were not at all beautiful felt that Anthony Ross +painted their souls, so they were satisfied, too. Besides, he made their +sittings so delightful and flirted with them with such absolute +discretion always. The year that Hugo Tancred met Fay was a particularly +good year, and Anthony had bought a touring-car, and they all went up to +Scotland in it. The girls were always well dressed and went out a good +deal. Young as she was, Jan was already an excellent manager and a +pleasant hostess. She had been taking care of her father from the time +she was twelve years old, and knew exactly how to manage him. When there +was plenty of money she let him launch out; when it was spent she made +him draw in again, and he was always quite ready to do so. Money as +money had no charms for Anthony Ross, but the pleasures it could +provide, the kindnesses it enabled him to do, the easy travel and the +gracious life were precious to him. He abhorred debt in any form and +paid his way as he went; lavishly when he had it, justly and exactly +always. + +On hearing all this Peter came to the conclusion that Hugo Tancred was +not altogether to blame if he had expected a good deal more financial +assistance from his father-in-law than he got. Anthony made no marriage +settlement on Fay. He allowed her two hundred a year for her personal +expenses and considered that Hugo Tancred should manage the running of +his own house out of his quite comfortable salary. He had, of course, no +smallest inkling of Hugo's debts or gambling propensities. And all might +have gone well if only Anthony Ross had made a new will when Fay +married; a will which tied up her mother's money and anything he might +leave her, so that she couldn't touch the capital. But nothing of the +kind was done. + +It never occurred to Jan to think of wills. + +Anthony Ross was strong and cheerful and so exceedingly young at +fifty-two that it seemed absurd that he should have grown-up daughters, +quite ludicrous that he should be a grandfather. + +Many charming ladies would greatly like to have occupied the position of +stepmother to "those nice girls," but Anthony, universal lover as he was +within strictly platonic limits, showed no desire to give his girls +anything of the sort. Jan satisfied his craving for a gracious and +well-ordered comfort in all his surroundings. Fay gratified his aesthetic +appreciation of beauty and gentleness. What would he do with a third +woman who might introduce discord into these harmonies? + +Fay came home for a short visit when Tony was six months old, as Hugo +had not got a very good station just then. She was prettier than ever, +seemed perfectly happy, and both Anthony and Jan rejoiced in her. + +After she went out the Tancreds moved to Dariawarpur, which was +considered one of the best stations in their province, and there little +Fay was born, and it was arranged that Jan and her father were to visit +India and Fay during the next cold weather. + +But early in the following November Anthony Ross got influenza, +recovered, went out too soon, got a fresh chill, and in two days +developed double pneumonia. + +His heart gave out, and before his many friends had realised he was at +all seriously ill, he died. + +Jan, stunned, bewildered, and heart-broken, yet contrived to keep her +head. She got rid of the big house in St. George's Square and most of +the servants, finally keeping only Hannah, her old Scottish nurse. She +paid everybody, rendered a full account of her stewardship to Fay and +Hugo, and then prepared to go out to India as had been arranged. Her +heart cried out for her only sister. + +To her surprise this proposition met with but scant enthusiasm. It +seemed the Tancreds' plans were uncertain; perhaps it might be better +for Fay and the children to come home in spring instead of Jan going out +to them. Hugo's letters were ambiguous and rather cold; Fay's a curious +mixture of abandonment and restraint; but the prevailing note of both +was "would she please do nothing in a hurry, but wait." + +So, of course, Jan waited. + +She waited two years, growing more anxious and puzzled as time went on. +Her lawyer protested unavailingly at Hugo's perpetual demands (of +course, backed up by Fay) for more and more capital that he might +"re-invest" it. Fay's letters grew shorter and balder and more +constrained. At last, quite suddenly, came the imperative summons to go +out at once to be with Fay when the new baby should arrive. + +And now after three weeks in Bombay Jan felt that she had never known +any other life, that she never would know any other life than this +curious dream-like existence, this silent, hopeless waiting for +something as afflicting as it was inevitable. + +There had been a great fire in the cotton green towards Colaba. It had +blazed all night, and, in spite of the efforts of the Bombay firemen and +their engines, was still blazing at six o'clock the following evening. + +Peter took Jan in his car out to see it. There was an immense crowd, so +they left the car on its outskirts and plunged into the throng on foot. +On either side of the road were tall, flimsy houses with a wooden +staircase outside; those curious tenements so characteristic of the +poorer parts of Bombay, and in such marked contrast to the "Fort," the +European quarter of the town. They were occupied chiefly by Eurasians +and very poor Europeans. That the road was a sea of mud, varied by quite +deep pools of water, seemed the only possible reason why such houses +were not also burning. + +Jan splashed bravely through the mud, interested and excited by the +people and the leaping flames so dangerously near. It was growing dusk; +the air was full of the acrid smell of burnt cotton, and the red glow +from the sky was reflected on the grave brown faces watching the fire. + +Any crowd in Bombay is always extremely varied, and Jan almost forgot +her anxieties in her enjoyment of the picturesque scene. + +"I don't think the people ought to be allowed to throng on the top of +that staircase," Peter said suddenly. "They aren't built to hold a +number at once; there'll be an accident," and he left her side for a +moment to speak to an inspector of police. + +Jan looked up at a tall house on her left, where sightseers were +collecting on the staircase to get a better view. Every window was +crowded with gazers, all but one. From one, quite at the top, a solitary +watcher looked out. + +There was a sudden shout from the crowd below, a redder glow as more +piled cotton fell into the general furnace and blazed up, and in that +moment Jan saw that the solitary watcher was Hugo Tancred, and that he +recognised her. She gave a little gasp of horror, which Peter heard as +he joined her again. "What is it?" he said. "What has frightened you?" + +Jan pointed upwards. "I've just seen Hugo," she whispered. "There, in +one of those windows--the empty one. Oh, what can he be doing in those +dreadful houses, and why is he in Bombay all this time and never a word +to Fay?" + +Jan was trembling. Peter put his hand under her arm and walked on with +her. + +"I knew he was in Bombay," he said, "but I didn't think the poor devil +was reduced to this." + +"What is to be done?" Jan exclaimed. "If he comes and worries Fay for +money now, it will kill her. She thinks he is safely out of India. What +_is_ to be done?" + +"Nothing," said Peter. "He'll go the very minute he can, and you may be +sure he'll raise the wind somehow. He's got all sorts of queer irons in +the fire. He daren't appear at the flat, or some of his creditors would +cop him for debt--it's watched day and night, I know. Just let it alone. +I'd no idea he was hiding in this region or I wouldn't have brought you. +We all want him to get clear. He might file his petition, but it would +only rake up all the old scandals, and they know pretty well there's +nothing to be got out of him." + +"He looked so dreadful, so savage and miserable," Jan said with a +half-sob. + +"Well--naturally," said Peter. "You'd feel savage and miserable if you +were in his shoes." + +"But oughtn't I to help him? Send him money, I mean." + +"Not one single anna. It'll take you all your time to get his family +home and keep them when you get there. Have you seen enough? Shall we go +back?" + +"You don't think he'll molest Fay?" + +"I'm certain of it." + +"Please take me home. I shall never feel it safe to leave Fay again for +a minute." + +"That's nonsense, you know," said Peter. + +"It's what I feel," said Jan. + +It was that night Tony's extempore prayer was echoed so earnestly by his +aunt. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE HUMAN TOUCH + + +Three days later Jan got a note from Peter telling her that Hugo Tancred +had left Bombay and was probably leaving India at once from one of the +smaller ports. + +He had not attempted to communicate in person or by letter with either +Jan or his wife. + +Early in the morning, just a week from the time Jan had seen Hugo +Tancred at the window of that tall house near the cotton green, Fay's +third child, a girl, was still-born; and Fay, herself, never recovered +consciousness all day. A most competent nurse had been in the house +nearly a week, the doctor had done all that human skill could do, but +Fay continued to sink rapidly. + +About midnight the nurse, who had been standing by the bed with her +finger on Fay's pulse, moved suddenly and gently laid down the weak hand +she had been holding. She looked warningly across at Jan, who knelt at +the other side, her eyes fixed on the pale, beautiful face that looked +so wonderfully young and peaceful. + +Suddenly Fay opened her eyes and smiled. She looked right past Jan, +exclaiming joyfully, "There you are at last, Daddie, and it's broad +daylight." + + * * * * * + +For Jan it was still the middle of the Indian night and very dark +indeed. + +The servants were all asleep; the little motherless children safely +wrapped in happy unconsciousness in their nursery with Ayah. + +The last sad offices had been done for Fay, and the nurse, tired out, +was also sleeping--on Jan's bed. + +Jan, alone of all the household, kept watch, standing in the verandah, a +ghostly figure, still in the tumbled white muslin frock she had had no +time all day to change. + +It was nearly one o'clock. Motors and carriages were beginning to come +back from Government House, where there was a reception. The motor-horns +and horses' hoofs sounded loud in the wide silent street, and the head +lights swept down the Queen's Road like fireflies in flight. + +Jan turned on the light in the verandah. Peter would perhaps look up and +see her standing there, and realise why she kept watch. Perhaps he would +stop and come up. + +She wanted Peter desperately. + +Compassed about with many relatives and innumerable friends at home, out +here Jan was singularly alone. In all that great city she knew no one +save Peter, the doctor and the nurse. Some few women, knowing all the +circumstances, had called and were ready to be kind and helpful and +friendly, as women are all over India, but Fay would admit none but +Peter--even to see Jan; and always begged her not to return the calls +"till it was all over." + +Well, it was all over now. Fay would never be timid and ashamed any +more. + +Jan had not shed a tear. The longing to cry that had assailed her so +continuously in her first week had entirely left her. She felt +clear-headed and cold and bitterly resentful. She would like to have +made Hugo Tancred go in front of her into that quiet room and forced him +to look at the girlish figure on the bed--his handiwork. She wanted to +hurt him, to make him more wretched than he was already. + +A car stopped in the street below. Jan went very quietly to the door of +the flat and listened at the top of the staircase. + +Steps were on the stairs, but they stopped at one of the flats below. + +Presently another car stopped. Again she went out and listened. The +steps came up and up and she switched on the light in the passage. + +This time it was Peter. + +He looked very tired. + +"I thought you would come," Jan said. "She died at midnight." + +Peter closed the outer door, and taking Jan by the arm led her back into +the sitting-room, where he put her in a corner of the big sofa and sat +down beside her. + +He could not speak, and Jan saw that the tears she could not shed were +in his eyes, those large dark eyes that could appear so sombre and then +again so kind. + +Jan watched him enviously. She was acutely conscious of trifling things. +She even noticed what very black eyebrows he had and how--as always, +when he was either angry or deeply moved--the veins in his forehead +stood out in a strongly-marked V. + +"It was best, I think," Jan said, and even to herself her voice sounded +like the voice of a stranger. "She would have been very unhappy if she +had lived." + +Peter started at the cool, hard tones, and looked at her. Then, simply +and naturally, like a child, he took her hand and held it; and there was +that in the human contact, in the firm, comfortable clasp, that seemed +to break something down in Jan, and all at once she felt weak and faint +and trembling. She leaned her head against the pillows piled high in the +corner where Fay had always rested. The electric light in the verandah +seemed suddenly to recede to an immense distance and became a tiny +luminous pin-head, like a far lone star. + +She heard Peter moving about in the dining-room behind and clinking +things, but she felt quite incapable of going to see what he was doing +or of trying to be hospitable--besides, it was his house, he knew where +things were, and she was so tired. + +And then he was standing over her, holding a tumbler against her +chattering teeth. + +"Drink it," he said, and, though his voice sounded far away, it was firm +and authoritative. "Quick; don't pretend you can't swallow, for you +can." + +He tipped the glass, and something wet and cold ran over her chin: +anything was better than that, and she tried to drink. As she did so +she realised she was thirsty, drank it all eagerly and gasped. + +"Have you had anything to eat all day?" the dominating voice went on; it +sounded much nearer now. + +"I can't remember," she said, feebly. "Oh, why did you give me all that +brandy, it's made me so muzzy and confused, and there's so much I ought +to see to." + +"You rest a bit first--you'll be all right presently." + +Someone lifted her by the knees and put the whole of her on the sofa. It +was very comfortable; she was not so cold now. She lay quite still and +closed her eyes. She had not had a real night's sleep since she reached +Bombay. Fay was always restless and nervous, and Jan had not had her +clothes off for forty-eight hours. The long strain was over, there was +nothing to watch and wait for now. She would do as that voice said, rest +for a few minutes. + +There was a white chuddah shawl folded on the end of the sofa. Fay had +liked it spread over her knees, for she was nearly always chilly. + +Peter opened it and laid it very lightly over Jan, who never stirred. + +Then he sat down in a comfortable chair some distance off, where she +would see him if she woke, and reviewed the situation, which was +unconventional, certainly. + +He had sent his car away when he arrived, as it was but a step to the +Yacht Club where he slept. Now, he felt he couldn't leave, for if Jan +woke suddenly she would feel confused and probably frightened. + +"I never thought so little brandy could have had such an effect," Peter +reflected half ruefully. "I suppose it's because she'd had nothing to +eat. It's about the best thing that could have happened, but I never +meant to hocus her like this." + +There she lay, a long white mound under the shawl. She had slipped her +hand under her cheek and looked pathetically young and helpless. + +"I wonder what I'd better do," thought Peter. + +Mrs. Grundy commanded him to go at once. Common humanity bade him stay. + +Peter was very human, and he stayed. + +About half-past five Jan woke. She was certainly confused, but not in +the least frightened. It was light, not brilliantly light as it would be +a little later on, but clear and opalescent, as though the sun were +shining through fold upon fold of grey-blue gauze. + +The electric light in the verandah and the one over Peter's head were +still burning and looked garish and wan, and Jan's first coherent +thought was, "How dreadfully wasteful to have had them on all +night--Peter's electric light, too"--and then she saw him. + +His body was crumpled up in the big chair; his legs were thrust out +stiffly in front of him. He looked a heartrending interpretation of +discomfort in his evening clothes, for he hadn't even loosened the +collar. He had thought of it, but felt it might be disrespectful to Jan. +Besides, there was something of the chaperon about that collar. + +Jan's tears that had refused to soften sorrow during the anguish of the +night came now, hot and springing, to blur that absurd, pathetic figure +looped sideways in the big chair. + +It was so plain why he was there. + +She sniffed helplessly (of course, she had lost her handkerchief), and +thrust her knuckles into her eyes like any schoolboy. + +When she could see again she noticed how thin was the queer, irregular +face, with dark hollows round the eyes. + +"I wonder if they feed him properly at that Yacht Club," thought Jan. +"And here are we using his house and his cook and everything." + +She swung her feet off the sofa and disentangled them from the shawl, +folded it neatly and sat looking at Peter, who opened his eyes. + +For a full minute they stared at each other in silence, then he +stretched himself and rose. + +"I say, have you slept?" he asked. + +"Till a minute ago ... Mr. Ledgard ... why did you stay? It was angelic +of you, but you must be so dreadfully tired. I feel absolutely rested +and, oh, so grateful--but so ashamed...." + +"Then you must have some tea," said Peter, inconsequently. "I'll go and +rouse up Lalkhan and the cook. We can't get any ourselves, for he locks +up the whole show every blessed night." + + * * * * * + +In the East burial follows death with the greatest possible speed. Peter +and the doctor and the nurse arranged everything. A friend of Peter's +who had little children sent for Ayah and Tony and little Fay to spend +the day, and Jan was grateful. + +Fay and her baby were laid in the English cemetery, and Jan was left to +face the children as best she could. + +They had been happy, Ayah said, with the kind lady and her children. +Tony went straight to his mother's room, the room that had been closed +to him for three whole days. + +He came back to Jan and stood in front of her, searching her face with +his grave, judging gaze. + +"What have you done with my Mummy?" he asked. "Have you carried her away +and put her somewhere like you do Fay when she's naughty? You're strong +enough." + +"Oh, Tony!" Jan whispered piteously. "I would have kept her if I could, +but I wasn't strong enough for that." + +"Who has taken her, then?" Tony persisted. "Where is she? I've been +everywhere, and she isn't in the bungalow." + +"God has taken her, Tony." + +"What for?" + +"I think," Jan said, timidly, "it was because she was very tired and ill +and unhappy----" + +"But is she happier now and better?" + +"I hope so, I believe she is ... quite happy and well." + +"You're sure?" And Tony's eyes searched Jan's face. "You're sure _you_ +haven't put her somewhere?" + +"Tony, I want Mummy every bit as much as you do. Be a little good to +me, sonny, for I'm dreadfully sad." + +Jan held out her hand and Tony took it doubtfully. She drew him nearer. + +"Try to be good to me, Tony, and love me a little ... it's all so hard." + +"I'll be good," he said, gravely, "because I promised Mummy ... but I +can't love you yet--because--" here Tony sighed deeply, "I don't seem to +feel like it." + +"Never mind," said Jan, lifting him on to her knee. "Never mind. I'll +love you an extra lot to make up." + +"And Fay?" he asked. + +"And Fay--we must both love Fay more than ever now." + +"I do love Fay," Tony said, "because I'm used to her. She's been here a +long time...." + +Suddenly his mouth went down at the corners and he leant against Jan's +shoulder to hide his face. "I do want Mummy so," he whispered, as the +slow, difficult tears welled over and fell. "I like so much to look at +her." + + * * * * * + +It was early afternoon, the hot part of the day. The children were +asleep and Jan sat on the big sofa, finishing a warm jersey for little +Fay to wear towards the end of the voyage. Peter, by means of every +scrap of interest he possessed, had managed to secure her a three-berth +cabin in a mail boat due to leave within the next fortnight. He insisted +that she must take Ayah, who was more than eager to go, and that Ayah +could easily get a passage back almost directly with people he knew who +were coming out soon after Jan got home. He had written to them, and +they would write to meet the boat at Aden. + +There was nothing Peter did not seem able to arrange. + +In the flat below a lady was singing the "Indian Love Lyrics" from the +"Garden of Khama." She had a powerful voice and sang with considerable +passion. + + Less than the dust beneath thy chariot wheel, + Less than the rust that never stained thy sword. + +Jan frowned and fidgeted. + +The song went on, finished, and then the lady sang it all over again. +Jan turned on the electric fan, for it was extremely hot, and the strong +contralto voice made her feel even hotter. The whirr of the fan in no +way drowned the voice, which now went on to proclaim with much _brio_ +that the temple bells were ringing and the month of marriages was +drawing near. And then, very slowly and solemnly, but quite as loudly as +before, came "When I am dying, lean over me tenderly----" + +Jan got up and stamped. Then she went swiftly for her topee and gloves +and parasol, and fled from the bungalow. + +Lalkhan rushed after her to ask if she wanted a "tikka-gharri." He +strongly disapproved of her walking in the streets alone, but Jan shook +her head. The lift-man was equally eager to procure one, but again Jan +defeated his desire and walked out into the hot street. Somehow she +couldn't bear "The Garden of Khama" just then. It was Hugo Tancred's +favourite verse, and was among the few books Fay appeared to possess, +Fay who was lying in the English cemetery, and so glad to be there ... +at twenty-five. + +What was the good of life and love, if that was all it led to? In spite +of the heat Jan walked feverishly and fast, down the shady side of the +Mayo Road into Esplanade Road, where the big shops were, and, just then, +no shade at all. + +The hot dust seemed to rise straight out of the pavement and strike her +in the face, and all the air was full of the fat yellow smell that +prevails in India when its own inhabitants have taken their mid-day +meal. + +Each bare-legged gharri-man slumbered on the little box of his carriage, +hanging on in that amazingly precarious fashion in which natives of the +East seem able to sleep anywhere. + +On Jan went, anywhere, anywhere away from the garden of Khama and that +travesty of love, as she conceived it. She remembered the day when she +thought them such charming songs and thrilled in sympathy with Fay when +Hugo sang them. Oh, why did that woman sing them to-day? Would she ever +get the sound out of her ears? + +She had reached Churchgate Street, which was deserted and deep in shade. +She turned down and presently came to the Cathedral standing in its trim +garden bright with English flowers. The main door was open and Jan went +in. + +Here the haunting love-lyrics were hushed. It was so still, not even a +sweeper to break the blessed peace. + +Restlessly, Jan walked round the outer aisles, reading the inscriptions +on marble tablets and brasses, many of them dating back to the later +eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. Men died young out in India +in those days; hardly any seemed to live beyond forty-two, many died in +the twenties. On nearly all the tablets the words "zeal" or "zealous" +regularly appeared. With regard to their performance of their duties +these dead and gone men who had helped to make the India of to-day had +evidently had a very definite notion as to their own purpose in life. +The remarks were guarded and remarkably free from exaggerated tributes +to the virtues they celebrated. One Major-General Bellasis was described +as "that very respectable Officer--who departed this life while he was +in the meritorious discharge of his duty presiding at the Military +Board." Others died "from exposure to the sun"; nearly all seemed to +have displayed "unremitting" or "characteristic zeal" in the discharge +of their duties. + +Jan sat down, and gradually it seemed as though the spirits and souls of +those departed men, those ordinary everyday men--whose descendants might +probably be met any day in the Yacht Club now--seemed to surround her in +a great company, all pointing in one direction and with one voice +declaring, "This is the WAY." + +Jan fell on her knees and prayed that her stumbling feet might be +guided upon it, that she should in no wise turn aside, however steep and +stony it might prove. + +And as she knelt there came upon her the conviction that here was the +true meaning of life as lived upon the earth; just this, that each +should do his job. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE END OF THE DREAM + + +She walked back rather slowly. It was a little cooler, but dusty, and +the hot pavements made her feet ache. She was just wondering whether she +would take a gharri when a motor stopped at the curb and Peter got out. + +"What are you doing?" he asked crossly. "Why are you walking in all this +heat? You can't play these games in India. Get in." + +He held the door open for her. + +"Good afternoon, Mr. Ledgard," Jan said, sweetly. "Is it worth while for +such a little way?" + +"Get in," Peter said again, and Jan meekly got in. + +"I was just coming to see you, and I could have taken you anywhere you +wanted to go, if only you'd waited. Why didn't you take a gharri?" + +"Since you must know," Jan said, smiling at the angry Peter, "I went out +because I wanted to go out. And I walked because I wanted to walk." + +"You can't do things just because you want to do 'em in this infernal +country--you must consider whether it's a suitable time." + +Jan made no answer, and silence reigned till they reached the bungalow. + +Peter followed her in. + +"Where did you go?" he asked. "And why?" + +"I went to the Cathedral, and my reason was that I simply couldn't stay +in the bungalow because the lady below was singing 'Less than the +dust.'" + +"I know," Peter said grimly. "Just the sort of thing she would sing." + +"She sang very well," Jan owned honestly, "but when Fay was first +engaged she and Hugo used to sing those songs to each other--it seemed +all day long--and this afternoon I couldn't bear it. It seemed such a +sham somehow--so false and unreal, if it only led--to this." + +"It's real enough while it lasts, you know," Peter remarked in the +detached, elderly tone he sometimes adopted. "That sort of thing's all +right for an episode, but it's a bit too thin for marriage." + +"But surely episodes often end in marriage?" + +"Not that sort, and if they do it's generally pretty disastrous. A woman +who felt she was less than the dust and rust and weeds and all that rot +wouldn't be much good to a man who had to do his job, for she wouldn't +do hers, you know." + +"Then you, too, think that's the main thing--to do your job?" + +"It seems to me it's the only thing that justifies one's existence. +Anyway, to try to do it decently." + +"And you don't think one ought to expect to be happy and have things go +smoothly?" + +"Well, they won't always, you know, whether you expect it or not; but +the job remains, so it's just as well to make up your mind to it." + +"I suppose," Jan said thoughtfully, "that's a religion." + +"It pans out as well as most," said Peter. + +The days that had gone so slowly went quickly enough now. Jan had much +to arrange and no word came from Hugo. She succeeded in getting the +monthly bills from the cook, and paid them, and very timidly she asked +Peter if she might pay the wages for the time his servants had waited +upon them; but Peter was so huffy and cross she never dared to mention +it again. + +The night before they all sailed Peter dined with her, and, after +dinner, took her for one last drive over Malabar Hill. The moon was +full, and when they reached Ridge Road he stopped the car and they got +out and stood on the cliff, looking over the city just as they had done +on her first evening in Bombay. + +Some scented tree was in bloom and the air was full of its soft +fragrance. + +For some minutes they stood in silence, then Jan broke it by asking: +"Mr. Ledgard, could Hugo take the children from me?" + +"He could, of course, legally--but I don't for a minute imagine he will, +for he couldn't keep them. What about his people? Will they want to +interfere?" + +"I don't think so; from the little he told us they are not very well +off. They live in Guernsey. His father was something in salt, I think, +out here. We've none of us seen them. They didn't come to Fay's +wedding. I gather they are very strict in their views--both his father +and mother--and there are two sisters. But Fay said Hugo hardly ever +wrote--or heard from them." + +"There's just one thing you must face, Miss Ross," and Peter felt a +brute as he looked at Jan pale and startled in the bright moonlight. +"Hugo Tancred might marry again." + +"Oh, surely no one would marry him after all this!" + +"Whoever did would probably know nothing of 'all this.' Remember Hugo +Tancred has a way with women; he's a fascinating chap when he likes, +he's good-looking and plausible, and always has an excellent reason for +all his misfortunes. If he does marry again he'll marry money, and +_then_ he might demand the children." + +"Perhaps she wouldn't want them." + +"We'll hope not." + +"And I can do nothing--nothing to make them safe?" + +"I fear--nothing--only your best for them." + +"I'll do that," said Jan. + +They stood shoulder to shoulder in the scented stillness of the night. +The shadows were black and sharp in the bright moonlight and the +tom-toms throbbed in the city below. + +"I wonder," Jan said presently, "if I shall ever be able to do anything +for you, Mr. Ledgard. You have done everything for us out here." + +"Would you really like to do something?" Peter asked eagerly. "I +wouldn't have mentioned it if you hadn't said that just now. Would you +write pretty often? You see, I've no people of my very own. Aunts and +uncles and cousins don't keep in touch with one out here. They're kind, +awfully kind when I go home on leave, but it takes a man's own folk to +remember to write every mail." + +"I'll write every mail," Jan promised eagerly, "and when you take your +next leave, remember we expect you at Wren's End." + +"I'll remember," said Peter, "and it may be sooner than you think." + +They sailed next day. Jan had spent six weeks in Bombay, and the whole +thing seemed a dream. + +The voyage back was very different from the voyage out. The boat was +crowded, and nearly all were Service people going home on leave. Jan +found them very kind and friendly, and the children, with plenty of +others to play with, were for the most part happy and good. + +The journey across France was rather horrid. Little Fay was as +obstreperous as Tony was disagreeably silent and aloof. Jan thanked +heaven when the crowded train steamed into Charing Cross. + +There, at the very door of their compartment, a girl was waiting. A girl +so small, she might have been a child except for a certain decision and +capability about everything she did. She seized Jan, kissed her +hurriedly and announced that she had got a nice little furnished flat +for them till they should go to the country, and that Hannah had tea +ready; this young person, herself, helped to carry their smaller +baggage to a taxi, packed them in, demanded Jan's keys and announced +that she would bring the luggage in another taxi. She gave the address +to the man, and a written slip to Jan, and vanished to collect their +cabin baggage. + +It was all done so briskly and efficiently that it left Ayah and the +children quite breathless, accustomed as they were to the leisurely +methods of the East. + +"Who is vat mem?" asked little Fay, as the taxi door was slammed by this +energetic young person. + +"Is she quite a mem?" suggested the accurate Tony. "Is she old enough or +big enough?" + +"Who is vat mem?" little Fay repeated. + +"That," said Jan with considerable satisfaction in her voice, "is Meg." + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +MEG + + +It was inevitable as the refrain of a _rondeau_ that when Jan said +"that's Meg" little Fay should demand "What nelse?" + +Now there was a good deal of "nelse" about Meg, and she requires some +explanation, going back several years. + +Like most Scots, Anthony Ross had been faithful to his relations whether +he felt affection for them or not; sometimes even when they had not a +thought in common with him and he rather disliked them than otherwise. + +And this was so in the case of one Amelia Ross, his first cousin, who +was head-mistress of a flourishing and well-established school for +"young ladies," in the Regent's Park district. + +She had been a head-mistress for many years, and was well over fifty +when she married a meek, small, nothingly man who had what Thackeray +calls "a little patent place." And it appeared that she added the +husband to the school in much the same spirit as she would have +increased the number of chairs in her dining-room, and with no more +appreciable result in her life. On her marriage she became Mrs. +Ross-Morton, and Mr. Morton went in and out of the front door, +breakfasted and dined at Ribston Hall, caught his bus at the North Gate +and went daily to his meek little work. It is presumed that he lived on +terms of affectionate intimacy with his wife, but no one who saw them +together could have gathered this. + +Now Anthony Ross disliked his cousin Amelia. He detested her school, +which he considered was one of the worst examples of a bad old period. +He suspected her of being hard and grasping, he knew she was dull, and +her husband bored him--not to tears, but to profanity. Yet since she was +his cousin and a hard-working, upright woman, and since they had played +together as children in Scotland and her father and mother had been kind +to him then, he could never bring himself to drop Amelia. Not for worlds +would he have allowed Jan or Fay to go to her school, but he did allow +them, or rather he humbly entreated them, to visit it occasionally when +invited to some function or other. Jan's education after her mother's +death had been the thinnest scrape sandwiched between many household +cares and much attendance upon her father's whims. Fay was allowed +classes and visiting governesses, but their father could never bring +himself to spare either of them to the regular discipline of school, and +Cousin Amelia bewailed the desultory training of Anthony's children. + +In 1905, Jan and Fay had been to a party at Ribston Hall: tea in the +garden followed by a pastoral play. Anthony was sitting in the balcony, +smoking, when the girls came back. He saw their hansom and ran +downstairs to meet them, as he always did. They were a family who went +in for affectionate greetings. + +"Daddie," cried Fay, seizing her father by the arm, "one of the seven +wonders of the world has happened. We have found an interesting person +at Ribston Hall." + +Jan took the other arm. "We can't possibly tell you all about it under +an hour, so we'd better go and sit in the balcony." And they gently +propelled him towards the staircase. + +"Not if you're going to discuss Cousin Amelia," Anthony protested. "You +have carrying voices, both of you." + +"Cousin Amelia is only incidental," Jan said, when they were all three +seated in the balcony. "The main theme is concerned with a queer little +pixie creature called Meg Morton. She's a pupil-governess, and she's +sixteen and a half--just the same age as Fay." + +"She doesn't reach up to Jan's elbow," Fay added, "and she chaperons the +girls for music and singing, and sits in the drawing-class because the +master can't be quite seventy yet." + +"She's the wee-est thing you ever saw, and they dress her in Cousin +Amelia's discarded Sunday frocks." + +"That's impossible," Anthony interrupted. "Amelia is so massive and +square; if the girl's so small she'd look like 'the Marchioness.'" + +"She does, she does!" Jan cried delightedly. "Of course the garments are +'made down,' but in the most elderly way possible. Daddie, can you +picture a Botticelli angel of sixteen, with masses of Titian-red hair, +clad in a queer plush garment once worn by Cousin Amelia, that retains +all its ancient frumpiness of line. And it's not only her appearance +that's so quaint, _she_ is quaint inside." + +"We were attracted by her hair," Fay went on "(You'll go down like a +ninepin before that hair), and we got her in a corner and hemmed her in +and declared it was her duty to attend to us because we were strangers +and shy, and in three minutes we were friends. Sixteen, Daddie! And a +governess-pupil in Cousin Amelia's school. She's a niece of the little +husband, and Cousin Amelia is preening herself like anything because she +takes her for nothing and makes her work like ten people." + +"Did the little girl say so?" + +"Of course not," Jan answered indignantly, "but Cousin Amelia did. Oh, +how thankful I am she is _your_ cousin, dear, and once-removed from us!" + +"How many generations will it take to remove her altogether?" Fay asked. +"However," she added, "if we can have the pixie out and give her a good +time I shan't mind the relationship so much. We _must_ do something, +Daddie. What shall it be?" + +Anthony Ross smoked thoughtfully and said very little. Perhaps he did +not even listen with marked attention, because he was enjoying his +girls. Just to see them healthy and happy; to know that they were +naturally kind and gay; to hear them frank and eager and +loquacious--sometimes gave him a sensation of almost physical pleasure. +He was like an idler basking in the sun, conscious of nothing but just +the warmth and comfort of it. + +Whatever those girls wanted they always got. Anthony's diplomacy was +requisitioned and was, as usual, successful; for, in spite of her +disapproval, Mrs. Ross-Morton could never resist her cousin's charm. +This time the result was that one Saturday afternoon in the middle of +June little Meg Morton, bearing a battered leather portmanteau and clad +in the most-recently-converted plush abomination, appeared at the tall +house in St. George's Square to stay over the week-end. + +It was the mid-term holiday, and from the first moment to the last the +visit was one almost delirious orgy of pleasure to the little +pupil-governess. + +It was also a revelation. + +It would be hard to conceive of anything odder than the appearance of +Meg Morton at this time. She just touched five feet in height, and was +very slenderly and delicately made, with absurd, tiny hands and feet. +Yet there was a finish about the thin little body that proclaimed her +fully grown. Her eyes, with their thick, dark lashes, looked overlarge +in the pale little pointed face; strange eyes and sombre, with big, +bright pupil, and curious dark-blue iris flecked with brown. Her +features were regular, and her mouth would have been pretty had the lips +not lacked colour. As it was, all the colour about Meg seemed +concentrated in her hair; red as a flame and rippled as a river under a +fresh breeze. There was so much of it, too, the little head seemed bowed +in apology beneath its weight. + +Yet for the time being Meg forgot to be apologetic about her hair, for +Anthony and his girls frankly admired it. + +These adorable, kind, amusing people actually admired it, and said so. +Hitherto Meg's experience had been that it was a thing to be slurred +over, like a deformity. If mentioned, it was to be deprecated. In the +strictly Evangelical circles where hitherto her lot had been cast, they +even tried vainly to explain it away. + +She had, of course, heard of artists, but she never expected to meet +any. That sort of thing lay outside the lives of those who had to make +their living as quickly as possible in beaten tracks; tracks so +well-beaten, in fact, that all the flowers had been trodden underfoot +and exterminated. + +Meg, at sixteen, had received so little from life that her expectations +were of the humblest. And as she stood before the glass in a pretty +bedroom, fastening her one evening dress (of shiny black silk that +crackled, made with the narrow V in front affected by Mrs. Ross-Morton), +preparatory to going to the play for the first time in her life, she +could have exclaimed, like the little old woman of the story, "This be +never I!" + +Anthony Ross was wholly surprising to Meg. + +This handsome, merry gentleman with thick, brown hair as crinkly as her +own; who was domineered over and palpably adored by these two, to her, +equally amazing girls--seemed so very, very young to be anybody's +father. + +He frankly owned to enjoying things. + +Now, according to Meg's experience, grown-up people--elderly +people--seldom enjoyed anything; above all, never alluded to their +enjoyment. + +Life was a thing to be endured with fortitude, its sorrows borne with +Christian resignation; its joys, if there were any joys, discreetly +slurred over. Joys were insidious, dangerous things that might lead to +the leaving undone of obvious duties. To seek joy and insure its being +shared by others, bravely and honestly believing it to be an excellent +thing, was to Meg an entirely unknown frame of mind. + +After the play, in Meg's room the three girls were brushing their hair +together; to be accurate, Jan was brushing Fay's and Meg admiring the +process. + +"Have you any sisters?" Jan asked. She was always interested in people's +relations. + +"No," said Meg. "There are, mercifully, only three of us, my two +brothers and me. If there had been any more I don't know what my poor +little Papa would have done." + +"Why do you call him your 'poor little papa'?" Fay asked curiously. + +"Because he is poor--dreadfully--and little, and very melancholy. He +suffers so from depression." + +"Why?" asked the downright Jan. + +"Partly because he has indigestion, _constant_ indigestion, and then +there's us, and boys are so expensive, they will grow so. It upsets him +dreadfully." + +"But they can't help growing," Fay objected. + +"It wouldn't matter so much if they didn't both do it at once. But you +see, there's only a year between them, and they're just about the same +size. If only one had been smaller, he could have worn the outgrown +things. As it is, it's always new clothes for both of them. Papa's are +no sort of use, and even the cheapest suits cost a lot, and boots are +perfectly awful." + +Meg looked so serious that Fay and Jan, who were like the lilies of the +field, and expected new and pretty frocks at reasonable intervals as a +matter of course, looked serious too; for the first time confronted by a +problem whose possibility they had never even considered before. + +"He must be pleased with you," Jan said, encouragingly. "_You're_ not +too big." + +"Yes, but then I'm not a boy. Papa's clothes would have made down for me +beautifully if I'd been a boy; as it is, they're no use." Meg sighed, +then added more cheerfully. "But I cost less in other ways, and several +relations send old clothes to me. They are never too small." + +"Do you like the relations' clothes?" Fay asked. + +"Of course not," said Meg, simply. "They are generally hideous; but, +after all, they cover me and save expense." + +The spoiled daughters of Anthony Ross gazed at Meg with horror-stricken +eyes. To them this seemed a most tragic state of things. + +"Do they all," Fay asked timidly, "wear such ... rich materials--like +Cousin Amelia?" + +"They're fond of plush, as a rule, but there's velveteen as well, and +sometimes a cloth dress. One was mustard-coloured, and embittered my +life for a whole year." + +Jan suddenly ceased to brush Fay's hair and went and sat on the bed +beside Meg and put her arm round her. Fay's pretty face, framed in +fluffy masses of fair hair, was solemn in excess of sympathy. + +"I shouldn't care a bit if only the boys were through Sandhurst and +safely into the Indian Army--but I do hate them having to go without +nearly everything. Trevor's a King's Cadet, but they wouldn't give us +two cadetships ... Still," she added, more cheerfully, "it's cheaper +than anything else for a soldier's son." + +"Is your father a soldier?" asked Jan. + +"Oh, yes, a major in the Westshires; but he had to leave the Army +because of his health, and his pension is very small, and mother had so +little money. I sometimes think it killed her trying to do everything on +nothing." + +"Were you quite small when she died?" Fay asked in a sympathetic +whisper. + +"Oh, no; I was nearly twelve, and quite as big as I am now. Then I kept +house while the boys were at Bedford, but when they went to Sandhurst +poor little Papa thought I'd better get some education, too, and Uncle +John's wife offered to take me for nothing, so here I am. HERE, it's too +wonderful. Who could have dreamed that Ribston Hall would lead to this?" +And Meg snuggled down in Jan's kind embrace, her red hair spread around +her like a veil. + +"Are some of the richly-dressed relations nice?" Jan asked hopefully. + +"I don't know if you'd think them nice--you seem to expect such a lot +from people--but they're quite kind--only it's a different sort of +kindness from yours here. They don't laugh and expect you to enjoy +yourself, like _your_ father. My brothers say they are dull ... they +call them--I'm afraid it's very ungrateful--the weariful rich. But I +expect we're weariful to them too. I suppose poor relations _are_ boring +if you're well-off yourself. But we get pretty tired, too, when they +talk us over." + +"But do you mean to say they talk you over _to_ you?" + +"Always," Meg said firmly. "How badly we manage, how improvident we are, +how Papa ought to rouse himself and I ought to manage better, and how +foolish it is to let the boys go into the Army instead of banks and +things ... And yet, you know, it hasn't cost much for Trevor, and once +he's in he'll be able to manage, and Jo said he'd enlist if there was +any more talk of banks, and poor little Papa had to give in--so there it +is." + +"How much older are they than you?" Jan asked. + +"Trevor's nineteen and Jo's eighteen, and they are the greatest darlings +in the world. They always lifted the heavy saucepans for me at Bedford, +and filled the buckets and did the outsides of the windows, and carried +up the coals to Papa's sitting-room before they went to school in the +morning, and they very seldom grumbled at my cooking...." + +"But where were the servants?" Fay asked innocently. + +Meg laughed. "Oh, we couldn't have any servants. A woman came in the +morning. Papa dined at his club, and I managed for the boys and me. But, +oh dear, they do eat a lot, and joints are so dear. Sheep's heads and +things pall if you have them more than once a week. They're such a mixty +sort of meat, so gummy." + +"_I_ can cook," Jan announced, then added humbly, "at least, I've been +to classes, but I don't get much practice. Cook isn't at all fond of +having me messing in her kitchen." + +"It isn't the cooking that's so difficult," said Meg; "it's getting +things to cook. It's all very well for the books to say 'Take' this and +that. My experience is that you can never 'take' anything. You have to +buy every single ingredient, and there's never anything like enough. We +tried being fruitarians and living on dates and figs and nuts all +squashed together, but it didn't seem to come a bit cheaper, for the +boys were hungry again directly and said it was hog-wash." + +"Was your papa a fruitarian too?" Fay asked. + +"Oh, no, he can't play those tricks; he has to be most careful. He never +had his meals with us. Our meals would have been too rough for him. I +got him breakfast and afternoon tea. He generally went out for the +others." + +Jan and Fay looked thoughtful. + + * * * * * + +Amelia Ross-Morton was a fair judge of character. When she consented to +take her husband's niece as a governess-pupil she had been dubious as to +the result. She very soon discovered, however, that the small red-haired +girl was absolutely trustworthy, that she had a power of keeping order +quite disproportionate to her size, that she got through a perfectly +amazing amount of work, and did whatever she was asked as a matter of +course. Thus she became a valuable factor in the school, receiving +nothing in return save her food and such clothes as Mrs. Ross-Morton +considered too shabby for her own wear. + +At the end of the first year Meg ceased to receive any lessons. Her day +was fully occupied in teaching the younger and chaperoning the elder +girls. Only one stipulation did she make at the beginning of each +term--that she should be allowed to accept, on all reasonable occasions, +the invitations of Anthony Ross and his daughters, and she made this +condition with so much firmness that Anthony's cousin knew better than +to be unreasonably domineering, as was her usual habit. Moreover, though +it was against her principles to do anything to further the enjoyment +of persons in a subordinate position, she was, in a way, flattered that +Anthony and his girls should thus single out her "niece by marriage" and +appear to enjoy her society. + +Thus it came about that Meg went a good deal to St. George's Square and +nearly always spent part of each holiday with Fay and Jan wherever they +happened to be. + +The queer clothes were kept for wear at Ribston Hall, and by +degrees--although she never had any money--she became possessed of +garments more suitable to her age and colouring. + +Again and again Anthony painted her. She sat for him with untiring +patience and devotion. She was always entirely at her ease with him, and +prattled away quite simply of the life that seemed to him so +inexpressibly hard and dreary. + +Only once had he interfered on her behalf at Ribston Hall, and then +sorely against Meg's will. She was sitting for him one day, with her +veil of flaming hair spread round her, when she said, suddenly, "I +wonder why it is incorrect to send invitations by post to people living +in the same town?" + +"But it isn't," Anthony objected. "Everybody does it." + +"Not in schools," Meg said firmly. "Mrs. Ross-Morton will never send +invitations to people living in London through the post--she says it +isn't polite. They must go by hand." + +"I never heard such nonsense," Anthony exclaimed crossly. "If she +doesn't send 'em by post, how _does_ she send them?" + +"I take them generally, in the evening, after school, and deliver them +at all the houses. Some are fairly near, of course--a lot of her friends +live in Regent's Park--but sometimes I have to go quite a long way by +bus. I don't mind that in summer, when it's light, but in winter it's +horrid going about the lonely roads ... People speak to one...." + +Anthony Ross stepped from behind his easel. + +"And what do you do?" he asked. + +"I run," Meg said simply, "and I can generally run much faster than they +do ... but it's a little bit frightening." + +"It's infernal," Anthony said furiously. "I shall speak to Amelia at +once. You are never to do it again." + +In vain did Meg plead, almost with tears, that he would do nothing of +the kind. He was roused and firm. + +He did "speak to Amelia." He astonished that good lady as much as he +annoyed her. Nevertheless Mrs. Ross-Morton used the penny post for her +invitations as long as Meg remained at Ribston Hall. + +At the end of two years Major Morton, who had removed from Bedford to +Cheltenham, wrote a long, querulous letter to his sister-in-law to the +effect that if--like the majority of girls nowadays--his daughter chose +to spend her life far from his sheltering care, it was time she earned +something. + +Mrs. Ross-Morton replied that only now was Meg beginning to repay all +the expense incurred on her behalf in the way of board, clothing and +tuition; and it was most unreasonable to expect any salary for quite +another year. + +Major Morton decided to remove Meg from Ribston Hall. + +Many acrimonious letters passed between her aunt and her father before +this was finally accomplished, and Meg left "under a cloud." + +To her great astonishment, her meek little uncle appeared at Paddington +to see her off. Just as the train was starting he thrust an envelope +into her hand. + +"It hasn't been fair," he almost shouted--for the train was already +beginning to move. "You worked hard, you deserved some pay ... a little +present ... but please don't mention it to your aunt ... She is so +decided in her views...." + +When Meg opened the envelope she found three ten-pound notes. She had +never seen so much money before, and burst into tears; but it was not +because of the magnitude of the gift. She felt she had never properly +appreciated her poor little uncle, and her conscience smote her. + +This was at Christmas. + +The weariful rich sat in conclave over Meg, and it was decided that she +should in March go as companion and secretary to a certain Mrs. Trent +slightly known to one of them. + +Mrs. Trent was kindly, careless, and quite generous as regards money. +She had grown-up daughters, and they lived in one of the Home Counties +where there are many country-houses and plenty of sport. Meg proved to +be exceedingly useful, did whatever she was asked to do, and a great +many things no one had ever done before. She shared in the fun, and for +the first time since her mother died was not overworked. + +Her employer was as keen on every form of pleasure as her own daughters. +She exercised the very smallest supervision over them and none at all +over the "quite useful" little companion. + +Many men came to the easy-going, lavish house, and Meg, with pretty +frocks, abundant leisure and deliriously prim Ribston-Hallish manners, +came in for her full share of admiration. + +It happened that at the end of July Anthony Ross came up to London in +the afternoon to attend and speak at a dinner in aid of some artists' +charity. He and Jan were staying with friends at Teddington; Fay, an +aunt and the servants were already at Wren's End--all but Hannah, the +severe Scottish housemaid, who remained in charge. She was grim and +gaunt and plain, with a thick, black moustache, and Anthony liked her +less than he could have wished. But she had been Jan's nurse, and was +faithful and trustworthy beyond words. He would never let Jan go to the +country ahead of him, for without her he always left behind everything +most vital to his happiness, so she was to join him next day and see +that his painting-tackle was all packed. + +The house in St. George's Square was nominally shut up and shrouded in +dust-sheets, but Hannah had "opened up" the dining-room on Anthony's +behalf, and there he sat and slumbered till she should choose to bring +him some tea. + +He was awakened by an opening door and Hannah's voice announcing, not +tea, but: + +"Miss Morton to see you, sir." + +There seemed a thousand "r's" in both the Morton and the sir, and +Anthony, who felt that there was something ominous and arresting in +Hannah's voice, was wide-awake before she could shut the door again. + +Sure enough it was Meg, clad in a long grey dust-cloak and motor bonnet, +the grey veil flung back from a very pale face. + +Meg, looking a wispy little shadow of woe. + +Anthony came forward with outstretched hands. + +"Meg, my child, what good wind has blown you here this afternoon? I +thought you were having ever such a gay time down in the country." + +But Meg made no effort to grasp the greeting hands. On the contrary, she +moved so that the whole width of the dining-room table was between them. + +"Wait," she said, "you mustn't shake hands with me till I tell you what +I've done ... perhaps you won't want to then." + +And Anthony saw that she was trembling. + +"Come and sit down," he said. "Something's wrong, I can see. What is +it?" + +But she stood where she was, looking at him with large, tragic eyes; +laid down a leather despatch-case she was carrying, and seized the edge +of the table as if for support. + +"I'd rather not sit down yet," she said. "Perhaps when you've heard what +I've got to tell you, you'll never want me to sit down in your house +again ... and yet ... I did pray so you'd be here ... I knew it was most +unlikely ... but I did pray so ... And you _are_ here." + +Anthony was puzzled. Meg was not given to making scenes or going into +heroics. + +It was evident that something had happened to shake her out of her usual +almost cynical calm. + +"You'd be much better to sit down," he said, soothingly. "You see, if +you stand, so must I, and it's such an uncomfortable way of talking." + +She pulled out a chair and sat down at the table, took off her gloves, +and two absurd small thumbs appeared above its edge, the knuckles white +and tense with the strength of her grip. + +Anthony seated himself in a deep chair beside the fireplace. He was in +shadow. Meg faced the light, and he was shocked at the appearance of the +little smitten face. + +"Now tell me," he said gently, "just as little or as much as you like." + +"This morning," she said hoarsely, "I ran away with a man ... in a +motor-car." + +Anthony was certainly startled, but all he said was, "That being the +case, why are you here, my dear, and what have you done with him?" + +"He was married...." + +"Have you only just found that out?" + +"No, I knew it all along. His wife is hard and disagreeable and older +than he is ... and he's thirty-five ... and they can't live together, +and she won't divorce him and he can't divorce her ... and I loved him +so much and thought how beautiful it would be to give up everything and +make it up to him." + +"Yes?" said Anthony, for Meg paused as though unable to go on. + +"And it seemed very wonderful and noble to do this, and I forgot my poor +little Papa and those boys in India, and you and Jan and Fay and ... I +was very mad and very happy ... till this morning, when we actually went +off in his car." + +"But where," Anthony asked in a voice studiously even and quiet, "_are_ +he and his car?" + +"I don't know," Meg said hopelessly, "unless they're still at the place +where we had lunch ... and I don't suppose he'd stay there all this +time...." + +Anthony felt a great desire to laugh, but Meg looked so woebegone and +desperately serious that he restrained the impulse and said very kindly: +"I don't yet understand how, having embarked upon such an enterprise, +you happen to be here ... alone. Did you quarrel at lunch, or what?" + +"We didn't _have_ lunch," Meg exclaimed with a sob. "At least, I didn't +... it was the lunch that did it." + +"Did what?" + +"Made me realise what I had done, and go away." + +"Meg dear," said Anthony, striving desperately to keep his voice steady, +"was it a very bad lunch?" + +"I don't know," she answered with the utmost seriousness. "We hadn't +begun; we were just going to, when I noticed his hands, and his nails +were dirty, and they looked horrid, and suddenly it came over me that if +I stayed ... those hands...." + +She let go of the table, put her elbows upon it and hid her face in her +hands. + +Anthony made no sound, and presently, still with hidden face, she went +on again: + +"And in that minute I saw what I was doing, and that I could never be +the same again, and I remembered my poor little dyspeptic Papa, and my +dear, dear brothers so far away in India ... and you and Jan and +Fay--_all_ the special people I pray for every single night and +morning--and I felt that if I didn't get away that minute I should +die...." + +"And how did you get away?" + +"It was quite simple. There was something wrong with the car (that's how +he got his hands so dirty), and he'd sent for a mechanic, and just as we +were sitting down to lunch, the waiter said the motor-man had come ... +and he went out to the garage to speak to him...." + +"Yes?" Anthony remarked, for again Meg paused. + +"So I just walked out of the front door. No one saw me, and the station +was across the road, and I went right in and asked when there was a +train to London, and there _was_ one going in five minutes; so I took a +ticket and came straight here, for I knew somehow, even if you were all +away, Hannah would let me stay ... just to-night. I knew she would ..." +and Meg began to sob feebly. + +And, as if in response to the mention of her name, Hannah appeared, +bearing a tray with tea upon it. Hannah was short and square; she +stumped as she walked, and she carried a tray very high and stately, as +though it were a sacrifice. As she came in Meg rose and hastily moved to +the window, standing there with her back to the room. + +"I thocht," said Hannah, as though challenging somebody to contradict +her, "that Miss Morton would be the better for an egg to her tea. She +looks just like a bit soap after a hard day's washing." + +"I had no lunch," said a muffled, apologetic voice from the window. + +"Come away, then, and take yer tea," Hannah said sharply. "Young leddies +should have more sense than go fasting so many hours." + +As it was evident that Hannah had no intention of leaving the room till +she saw Meg sitting at the table, the girl came back and sat down. + +"See that she gets her tea, sir," she said in a low, admonitory voice to +Anthony. "She's pretty far through." + +The tray was set at the end of the table. Anthony came and sat down +behind it. + +"I'll pour out," he said, "and until you've drunk one cup of tea, eaten +one piece of bread-and-butter and one egg, you're not to speak one word. +_I_ will talk." + +He tried to, disjointedly and for the most part nonsense. Meg drank her +tea, and to her own amazement ate up her egg and several pieces of +bread-and-butter with the utmost relish. + +As the meal proceeded, Anthony noted that she grew less haggard. The +tears still hung on her eyelashes, but the eyes themselves were a +thought less tragic. + +When Hannah came for the tray she gave a grunt of satisfaction at the +sight of the egg-shell and the empty plates. + +"Now," said Anthony, "we must thresh this subject out and settle what's +to be done. I suppose you left a message for the Trents. What did you +tell them?" + +"Lies," said Meg. "He said we must have a good start. His yacht was at +Southampton. And I left a note that I'd been suddenly summoned to Papa, +and would write from there. They'd all gone for a picnic, you know--and +it was arranged I was to have a headache that morning ... I've got it +now with a vengeance ... It seemed rather fun when we were planning it. +Now it all looks so mean and horrid ... Besides, lots of people saw us +in his motor ... and people always know me again because of my hair. +Everyone knew him ... the whole county made a fuss of him, and it seemed +so wonderful ... that he should care like that for me...." + +"Doubtless it did," said Anthony drily. "But we must consider what is to +be done now. If you said you were going to your father, perhaps the best +thing you can do is to go to him, and write to the Trents from there. I +hope you didn't inform _him_ of your intention?" + +"No," she faltered. "I was to write to him just before we sailed ... But +you may be perfectly sure the Trents will find out ... He will probably +go back there to look for me ... I expect he is awfully puzzled." + +"I expect he is, and I hope," Anthony added vindictively, "the fellow is +terrified out of his life as well. He ought to be horsewhipped, and I'd +like to do it. A babe like you!" + +"No," said Meg, firmly; "there you're wrong. I'm not a babe ... I knew +what I was doing; but up to to-day it seemed worth it ... I never seemed +to see till to-day how it would hurt other people. Even if he grew tired +of me--and I had faced that--there would have been some awfully happy +months ... and so long as it was only me, it didn't seem to matter. And +when you've had rather a mouldy life...." + +"It can never be a case of 'only me.' As society is constituted, other +people are always involved." + +"Yet there was Marian Evans ... he told me about her ... she did it, and +everyone came round to think it was very fine of her really. She wrote, +or something, didn't she?" + +"She did," said Anthony, "and in several other respects her case was +not at all analogous to yours. She was a middle-aged woman--you are a +child...." + +"Perhaps, but I'm not an ignorant child...." + +"Oh, Meg!" Anthony protested. + +"I daresay about books and things I am, but I mean I haven't been +wrapped in cotton-wool, and taken care of all my life, like Jan and Fay +... I know about things. Oh dear, oh dear, will you forbid Jan ever to +speak to me again?" + +"Jan!" Anthony repeated. "Jan! Why, she's the person of all others we +want. We'll do nothing till she's here. Let's get her." And he pushed +back his chair and rushed to the bell. + +Meg rushed after him: "You'll let her see me? You'll let her talk to me? +Oh, are you sure?" + +The little hands clutched his arm, her ravaged, wistful face was raised +imploringly to his. + +Anthony stooped and kissed the little face. + +"It's just people like Jan who are put into the world to straighten +things out for the rest of us. We've wasted three-quarters of an hour +already. Now we'll get her." + +"Is she on the telephone?" asked the practical Meg. "Not far off?" + + * * * * * + +Jan was quite used to being summoned to her father in a tremendous +hurry. She was back in St. George's Square before he started for the +dinner. Meg was lying down in one of the dismantled bedrooms, and when +Jan arrived she went straight to her father in his dressing-room. + +She found him on his knees, pursuing a refractory collar-stud under the +wash-stand. + +"It's well you've come," he said as he got up. "I can't fasten my collar +or my tie. I've had a devil of a time. My fingers are all thumbs and I'm +most detestably sticky." + +He told Jan about Meg. She fastened his collar and arranged his tie in +the neatest of bows. Then she kissed him on both cheeks and told him not +to worry. + +"How can one refrain from worrying when the works of the devil and the +selfishness of man are made manifest as they have been to-day? But for +the infinite mercy of God, where would that poor silly child have been?" + +"It's just because the infinite mercy of God is so much stronger than +the works of the devil or the selfishness of man, that you needn't +worry," said Jan. + +Anthony put his hands on Jan's shoulders and held her away from him. + +"Do you know," he said, "I shall always like Hannah better after this. +In spite of her moustache and her grimness, that child was sure Hannah +would take her in, whether any of us were here or not. Now, how did she +know?" + +"Because," said Jan, "things are revealed to babes like Meg that are +hidden from men of the world like you. Hannah is all right--you don't +appreciate Hannah, and you are rather jealous of her moustache." + +Anthony leant forward and kissed his tall young daughter: "You are a +great comfort, Jan," he said. "How do you do it?" + +Jan nodded at him. "It will all straighten out--don't you worry," she +said. + +All the same, there was plenty of worry for everybody. The man, after +his fashion, was very much in love with Meg. He was horribly alarmed by +her sudden and mysterious disappearance. No one had seen her go, no one +had noticed her. + +He got into a panic, and motored back to the Trents', arriving there +just before dinner. Mrs. Trent, tired and cross after a wet picnic, had, +of course, read Meg's note, thought it very casual of the girl and was +justly incensed. + +On finding they knew no more of Meg's movements than he did himself, the +man--one Walter Brooke--lost his head and confessed the truth to Mrs. +Trent, who was much shocked and not a little frightened. + +Later in the evening she received a telegram from Jan announcing Meg's +whereabouts. + +Jan had insisted on this, lest the Trents should suspect anything and +wire to Major Morton. + +Mrs. Trent, quite naturally, refused to have anything further to do with +Meg. She talked of serpents, and was very much upset. She wrote a +dignified letter to Major Morton, explaining her reasons for Meg's +dismissal. She also wrote to their relative among the weariful rich, +through whom she had heard of Meg. + +Meg was more under a cloud than when she left Ribston Hall. + +But for Jan and Anthony she might have gone under altogether; but they +took her down to Wren's End and kept guard over her. Anthony Ross dealt +faithfully with the man, who went yachting at once. + +Meg recovered her poise, searched the advertisements of the scholastic +papers industriously, and secured a post in a school for little boys, as +Anthony forced his cousin Amelia to give her a testimonial. + +Here she worked hard and was a great success, for she could keep order, +and that quality, where small boys are concerned, is much more valuable +than learning. She stayed there for some years, and then her frail +little ill-nourished body gave out, and she was gravely ill. + +When she recovered, she went as English governess to a rich German +family in Bremen. The arrangement was only for one year, and at its +termination she was free to offer to meet Jan and her charges. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +PLANS + + +"Now, chicks, this is London, the friendly town," Jan announced, as the +taxi drove away from Charing Cross station. + +"Flendly little London, dirty little London," her niece rejoined, as she +bounced up and down on Jan's knee. She had slept during the very good +crossing and was full of conversation and ready to be pleased with all +she saw. + +Tony was very quiet. He had suffered far more in the swift journey +across France than during the whole of the voyage, and it was difficult +to decide whether he or Ayah were the more extraordinary colour. +Greenish-white and miserable he sat beside his aunt, silent and +observing. + +"Here's dear old Piccadilly," Jan exclaimed, as the taxi turned out of +St. James's Street. "Doesn't it look jolly in the sunshine?" + +Tony turned even greener than before, and gasped: + +"This! Piccadilly!" + +This not very wide street with shops and great houses towering above +them, the endless streams of traffic in the road and on the crowded +pavements! + +"Did Mrs. Bond live in one of those houses?" he wondered, "and if so, +where did she keep her ducks? And where, oh, where, were the tulips and +the lilies of his dream?" + +He uttered no sound, but his mind kept exclaiming, "This! Piccadilly?" + +"See," said Jan, oblivious of Tony and intent on keeping her lively +niece upon her knee. "There's the Green Park." + +Tony breathed more freely. + +After all, there _were_ trees and grass; good grass, and more of it than +in the Resident's garden. He took heart a little and summoned up courage +to inquire: "But where are the tulips?" + +"It's too early for tulips yet," Jan answered. "By and by there will be +quantities. How did you know about them? Did dear Mummy tell you? But +they're in Hyde Park, not here." + +Tony made no answer. He was, as usual, weighing and considering and +making up his mind. + +Presently he spoke. "It's different," he said, slowly, "but I rather +like to look at it." + +Tony never said whether he thought things were pretty or ugly. All he +knew was that certain people and places, pictures and words, sometimes +filled him with an exquisite sense of pleasure, while others merely +bored or exasperated or were positively painful. + +His highest praise was "I like to look at it." When he didn't like to +look at it, he had found it wiser to express no opinion at all, except +in moments of confidential expansion, and these were rare with Tony. + +Meg had found them a nice little furnished flat on the fifth floor in +one of the blocks behind Kensington High Street, and Hannah must surely +have been waiting behind the door, so instantaneously was it opened, +when Jan and her party left the lift. + +There were tears in Hannah's eyes and her nose was red as she welcomed +"Miss Fay's motherless bairns." She was rather shocked that there was no +sign of mourning about any of them except Jan, who wore--mainly as a +concession to Hannah's prejudices--a thin black coat and skirt she had +got just before she left Bombay. + +Tony stared stonily at Hannah and decided he did not like to look at +her. She was as surprising as the newly-found Piccadilly, but she +gratified no sensuous perception whatsoever. + +Ayah might not be exactly beautiful, but she was harmonious. Her body +was well proportioned, her sari fell in gracious flowing lines, and she +moved with dignity. Without knowing why, Tony felt that there was +something pleasing to the eye in Ayah. Hannah, on the contrary, was the +reverse of graceful; stumpy and heavy-footed, she gave an impression of +abrupt terminations. Everything about her seemed too short except her +caps, which were unusually tall and white and starchy. Her afternoon +aprons, too, were stiffer and whiter and more voluminous than those of +other folk. She did not regard these things as vain adornings of her +person, rather were they the outward and visible sign of her office as +housekeeper to Miss Ross. They were a partial expression of the dignity +of that office, just as a minister's gown is the badge of his. + +By the time everyone was washed and brushed Meg returned with the +luggage and Hannah brought in tea. + +"I thought you'd like to give the bairns their tea yourself the first +day, Miss Jan. Will that Hindu body have hers in the nursery?" + +"That would be best," Jan said hastily. "And Hannah, you mustn't be +surprised if she sits on the floor. Indian servants always do." + +"_Nothing_ she can do will surprise me," Hannah announced loftily. "I've +not forgotten the body that came back with Mrs. Tancred, with a ring +through her nose and a red wafer on her forehead." + +Jan, herself, went with Ayah to the nursery, where she found that in +spite of her disparaging sniffs, Hannah had put out everything poor Ayah +could possibly want. + +The children were hungry and tea was a lengthy meal. It was not until +they had departed with Ayah for more washings that Jan found time to +say: "Why don't you take off your hat, Meg dear? I can't see you +properly in that extinguisher. Is it the latest fashion?" + +"The very latest." + +Meg looked queerly at Jan as she slowly took off her hat. + +"There!" she said. + +Her hair was cropped as short as a boy's, except for the soft, tawny +rings that framed her face. + +"Meg!" Jan cried. "Why on earth have you cut off your hair?" + +"Chill penury's the cause. I've turned it into good hard cash. It +happens to be the fashionable colour just now." + +"Did you really need to? I thought you were getting quite a good salary +with those Hoffmeyers." + +"No English governess gets a _good_ salary in Bremen, and mine was but a +modest remuneration, so I wanted more. Do you remember Lady Penelope +Pottinger?" + +"Hazily. She was pretty, wasn't she ... and very smart?" + +"She was and is ... smarter than ever now--mind, I put you on your +honour never to mention it--_she's_ got my hair." + +"Do you mean she asked you to sell it?" + +"No, my child. I offered it for sale and she was all over me with +eagerness to purchase. Hair's the defective wire in her lighting +apparatus. Her own, at the best, is skimpy and straight, though very +much my colour, and what with permanent waving and instantaneous hair +colouring it was positively dwindling away." + +"I wish you had let it dwindle." + +"No, I rather like her--so I suggested she should give her own poor +locks a rest and have an artistic _postiche_ made with mine; it made +two, one to come and one to go--to the hairdresser. She looks perfectly +charming. I'd no idea my hair was so decent till I saw it on her head." + +"I hope _I_ never shall," Jan said gloomily. "I think it was silly of +you, for it makes you look younger and more irresponsible than ever; and +what about posts?" + +"I've got a post in view where it won't matter if only I can run things +my own way." + +"Will you have to go at once? I thought, perhaps----" + +"I wish to take this post at once," Meg interposed quickly, "but it +depends on you whether I get it." + +"On me?" + +"On no one else. Look here, Jan, will you take me on as nurse to Fay's +children? A real nurse, mind, none of your fine lady arrangements; only +you must pay me forty pounds a year. I can't manage with less if I'm to +give my poor little Papa any chirps ... I suppose that's a frightful lot +for a nurse?" + +"Not for a good nurse ... But, Meg, you got eighty when you taught the +little boys, and I know they'd jump at you again in that school, hair or +no hair." + +"Listen, Jan." Meg put her elbows on the table and leaned her sharp +little chin on her two hands while she held Jan's eyes with hers. "For +nine long years, except that time with the Trents, I've been teaching, +teaching, teaching, and I'm sick of teaching. I'd rather sweep a +crossing." + +"Yet you teach so well; you know the little boys adored you." + +"I love children and they usually like me. If you take me to look after +Tony and little Fay, I'll do it thoroughly, I can promise you. I won't +teach them, mind, not a thing--I'll make them happy and well-mannered; +and, Jan, listen, do you suppose there's anybody, even the most +superior of elderly nurses, who would take the trouble for Fay's +children that I should? If you let me come you won't regret it, I +promise you." + +Meg's eyes, those curious eyes with the large pupil and blue iris +flecked with brown, were very bright, her voice was earnest, and when it +ceased it left a sense of tension in the very air. + +Jan put out her hand across the table, and Meg, releasing her sharp +little chin, clasped it with hers. + +"So that's settled," Meg announced triumphantly. + +"No." Jan's voice was husky but firm. "It's not settled. I don't think +you're strong enough; but, even so, if I could pay you the salary you +ought to have, I'd jump at you ... but, my dear, I can't at present. I +haven't the least idea what it will all cost, but the fares and things +have made such a hole in this year's money I'll need to be awfully +careful." + +"That's exactly why I want to come; you've no idea of being careful and +doing things in a small way. I've done it all my life. You'll be far +more economical with me than without me." + +"Don't tempt me," Jan besought her. "I see all that, but why should I be +comfortable at your expense? I want you more than I can say. Fay wanted +it too--she said so." + +"Did Fay actually say so? Did she?" + +"Yes, she did--not that you should be their nurse, we neither of us ever +thought of that; but she did want you to be there to help me with the +children. We used to talk about it." + +"Then I'm coming. I must. Don't you see how it is, Jan? Don't you +realise that nearly all the happiness in my life--_all_ the happiness +since the boys left--has come to me through Mr. Ross and Fay and you? +And now when there's a chance for me to do perhaps a little something in +return ... If you don't let me, it's you who are mean and grudging. I +shall be perfectly strong, if I haven't got to teach--mind, I won't do +that, not so much as A.B.C." + +"I know it's wrong," Jan sighed, "just because it would be so heavenly +to have you." + +Meg loosed the hand she held and stood up. She lifted her thin arms +above her head, as though invoking some invisible power, stretched +herself, and ran round the table to kiss Jan. + +"And do you never think, you dear, slow-witted thing, that it will be +rather lovely for _me_ to be with you? To be with somebody who is kind +without being patronising, who treats one as a human being and not a +machine, who sees the funny side of things and isn't condescending or +improving if she doesn't happen to be cross?" + +"I'm often cross," Jan said. + +"Well, and what if you are? Can't I be cross back? I'm not afraid of +your crossness. You never hit below the belt. Now, promise me you'll +give me a trial. Promise!" + +Meg's arms were round her neck, Meg's absurd cropped head was rubbing +against hers. Jan was very lonely and hungry for affection just then, +timid and anxious about the future. Even in that moment of time it +flashed upon her what a tower of strength this small, determined +creature would be, and how infinitely hard it was to turn Meg from any +course she had determined on. + +"For a little while, then," so Jan salved her conscience. "Just till we +all shake down ... and your hair begins to grow." + +Meg stood up very straight and shook her finger at Jan. "Remember, I'm +to be a real, proper nurse with authority, and a clinical thermometer +... and a uniform." + +"If you like, and it's a pretty uniform." + +Meg danced gleefully round the table. + +"It will be lovely, it is lovely. I've got it all ready; green linen +frocks, big _well_-fitting aprons, and such beautiful caps." + +"Not caps, Meg!" Jan expostulated. "Please not caps." + +"Certainly caps. How otherwise am I to cover up my head? I can't wear +hats all the time. And how could I ever inspire those children with +respect with a head like this? When I get into my uniform you'll see +what a very superior nurse I look." + +"You'll look much more like musical comedy than sober service." + +"You mistake the situation altogether," Meg said loftily. "I take my +position very seriously." + +"But you can't go about Wren's End in caps. Everybody knows you down +there." + +"They'll find out they don't know me as well as they thought, that's +all." + +"Meg, tell me, what did Hannah say when she saw your poor shorn head?" + +"Hannah, as usual, referred to my Maker, and said that had He intended +me to have short hair He would either have caused it not to grow or +afflicted me with some disease which necessitated shearing; and she +added that such havers are just flying in the face of Providence." + +"So they are." + +"All the more reason to cover them up, and I wish to impress the +children." + +"Those children will be sadly browbeaten, I can see, and as for their +poor aunt, she won't be able to call her soul her own." + +"That," Meg said, triumphantly, "is precisely why I'm so eager to come. +When you've been an underling all your life you can't imagine what a joy +it is to be top dog occasionally." + +"In that respect," Jan said firmly, "it must be turn and turn about. I +won't let you come unless you promise--swear, here and now--that when I +consider you are looking fagged--'a wispy wraith,' as Daddie used to +say--if I command you to take a day in bed, in bed you will stay till I +give you leave to get up. Unless you promise me this, the contract is +off." + +"I'll promise anything you like. The idea of being _pressed_ to remain +in bed strikes me as merely comic. You have evidently no notion how +persons in a subordinate position ought to be treated. Bed, indeed!" + +"I think you might have waited till I got back before you parted with +your hair." Jan's tone was decidedly huffy. + +"Now don't nag. That subject is closed. What about _your_ hair. Do you +know it is almost white?" + +"And what more suitable for a maiden aunt? As that is to be my _role_ +for the future I may as well look the part." + +"But you don't--that's what I complain of. The whiter your hair grows +the younger your face gets. You're a contradiction, a paradox, you +provoke conjecture, you're indecently noticeable. Mr. Ross would have +loved to paint you." + +Jan shook her head. "No, Daddie never wanted to paint anything about me +except my arms." + +"He'd want to paint you now," Meg insisted obstinately. "_I_ know the +sort of person he liked to paint." + +"He never would paint people unless he _did_ like them," Jan said, +smiling as at some recollection. "Do you remember how he utterly refused +to paint that rich Mr. Withells down at Amber Guiting?" + +"I remember," and Meg laughed. "He said Mr. Withells was puffy and +stippled." + + * * * * * + +Tony had been cold ever since he reached the Gulf of Lyons, and he +wondered what could be the matter with him, for he never remembered to +have felt like this before. He wondered miserably what could be the +reason why he felt so torpid and shivery, disinclined to move, and yet +so uncomfortable when he sat still. + +After his bath, on that first night in London, tucked into a little bed +with a nice warm eiderdown over him, he still felt that horrid little +trickle of ice-cold water down his spine and could not sleep. + +His cot was in Auntie Jan's room with a tall screen round it. The rooms +in the flat were small, tiny they seemed to Tony, after the lofty +spaciousness of the bungalow in Bombay, but that didn't seem to make it +any warmer, because Auntie Jan's window was wide open as it would +go--top and bottom--and chilly gusts seemed to blow round his head in +spite of the screen. Ayah and little Fay were in the nursery across the +passage, where there was a fire. There was no fire in this wind-swept +chamber of Auntie Jan's. + +Tony dozed and woke and woke and dozed, getting colder and more forlorn +and miserable with each change of position. The sheets seemed made of +ice, so slippery were they, so unkind and unyielding and unembracing. + +Presently he saw a dim light. Auntie Jan had come to bed, carrying a +candle. He heard her say good night to the little mem who had met them +at the station, and the door was shut. + +In spite of her passion for fresh air, Jan shivered herself as she +undressed. She made a somewhat hasty toilet, said her prayers, peeped +round the screen to see that Tony was all right, and hopped into bed, +where a hot-water bottle put in by the thoughtful Hannah was most +comforting. + +Presently she heard a faint, attenuated sniff. Again it came, this time +accompanied by the ghost of something like a groan. + +Jan sat up in bed and listened. Immediately all was perfectly still. + +She lay down again, and again came that sad little sniff, and +undoubtedly it was from behind the screen that it came. + +Had Tony got cold? + +Jan leapt out of bed, switched on the light and tore away the screen +from around his bed. + +Yes; his doleful little face was tear-stained. + +"Tony, Tony darling, what is the matter?" + +"I don't know," he sobbed. "I feel so funny." + +Jan put her hand on his forehead--far from being hot, the little face +was stone-cold. In a moment she had him out of bed and in her warm arms. +As she took him she felt the chill of the stiff, unyielding small body. + +"My precious boy, you're cold as charity! Why didn't you call me long +ago? Why didn't you tell Auntie Jan?" + +"I didn't ... know ... what it was," he sobbed. + +In no time Tony was put into the big bed, the bed so warm from Auntie +Jan's body, with a lovely podgy magic something at his feet that +radiated heat. Auntie Jan slammed down the window at the bottom, and +then more fairness! She struck a match, there was a curious sort of +"plop," and a little fire started in the grate, an amazing little fire +that grew redder and redder every minute. Auntie Jan put on a blue +dressing-gown over the long white garment that she wore, and bustled +about. Tony decided that he "liked to look at her" in this blue robe, +with her hair in a great rope hanging down. She was very quick; she +fetched a little saucepan and he heard talking in the passage outside, +but no one else came in, only Auntie Jan. + +Presently she gave him milk, warm and sweet, in a blue cup. He drank it +and began to feel much happier, drowsy too, and contented. Presently +there was no light save the red glow of the fairy fire, and Auntie Jan +got into bed beside him. + +She put her arm about him and drew him so that his head rested against +her warm shoulder. He did not repulse her, he did not speak, but lay +stiff and straight with his feet glued against that genial podgy +something that was so infinitely comforting. + +"You are kind," Tony said suddenly. "I believe you." + +The stiff little body relaxed and lay against hers in confiding +abandonment, and soon he was sound asleep. + +What a curious thing to say! Jan lay awake puzzling. Tragedy lay behind +it. Only five years old, and yet, to Tony, belief was a more important +thing than love. She thought of Fay, hectic and haggard, and again she +seemed to hear her say in her tired voice, trying to explain Tony: "He's +not a cuddly child; he's queer and reserved and silent, but if he once +trusts you it's for always; he'll love you then and never change." + +Jan could just see, in the red glow from the fire, the little head that +lay so confidingly against her shoulder, the wide forehead, the +peacefully closed eyes. And suddenly she realised that the elusive +resemblance to somebody that had always evaded her was a likeness to +that face she saw in the glass every time she did her hair. She kissed +him very softly, praying the while that she might never fail him; that +he might always have reason to trust her. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE STATE OF PETER + + +Meanwhile Peter was making discoveries about himself. He went back to +his flat on the evening of the day Jan and the children sailed. Swept +and garnished and exceedingly tidy, it appeared to have grown larger +during his absence and seemed rather empty. There was a sense of +unfilled spaces that caused him to feel lonely. + +That very evening he decided he must get a friend to chum with him. The +bungalow was much too big for one person. + +This had never struck him before. + +In spite of their excessive neatness there remained traces of Jan and +the children in the rooms. The flowers on the dinner-table proclaimed +that they had been arranged by another hand than Lalkhan's. He was +certain of that without Lalkhan's assurance that the Miss-Sahib had done +them herself before she sailed that very morning. + +When he went to his desk after dinner--never before or after did Peter +possess such an orderly bureau--he found a letter lying on the +blotting-pad, and on each side of the heavy brass inkstand were placed a +leaden member of a camel-corps and an India-rubber ball with a face +painted upon it, which, when squeezed, expressed every variety of +emotion. These, Lalkhan explained, were parting gifts from the young +sahib and little Fay respectively, and had been so arranged by them just +before they sailed. + +The day before Jan had told the children that all this time they had +been living in Peter's house and that she was sure Mummy would want them +to be very grateful (she was careful to talk a great deal about Mummy to +the children lest they should forget her); that he had been very kind to +them all, and she asked if there was anything of their very own they +would like to leave for Peter as a remembrance. + +Tony instantly fetched the camel-corps soldier that kept guard on a +chair by his cot every night; that Ayah had not been permitted to pack +because it must accompany him on the voyage. It was, Jan knew, his most +precious possession, and she assured him that Peter would be +particularly gratified by such a gift. + +Not to be outdone by her brother, little Fay demanded her beloved ball, +which was already packed for the voyage in Jan's suit-case. + +Peter sat at his desk staring at the absurd little toys with very kind +eyes. He understood. Then he opened Jan's letter and read it through +quite a number of times. + +"Dear Mr. Ledgard," it ran. + +"Whatever Mr. Kipling may say of the Celt, the lowland Scot finds it +very difficult to express strong feeling in words. If I had tried to +tell you, face to face, how sensible I am of your kindness and +consideration for us during the last sad weeks--I should have cried. You +would have been desperately uncomfortable and I--miserably ashamed of +myself. So I can only try to write something of my gratitude. + +"We have been your guests so long and your hospitality has been so +untiring in circumstances sad and strange enough to try the patience of +the kindest host, that I simply cannot express my sense of obligation; +an obligation in no wise burdensome because you have always contrived to +make me feel that you took pleasure in doing all you have done. + +"I wish there had been something belonging to my sister that I could +have begged you to accept as a remembrance of her; but everything she +had of the smallest value has disappeared--even her books. When I get +home I hope to give you one of my father's many portraits of her, but I +will not send it till I know whether you are coming home this summer. +Please remember, should you do so, as I sincerely hope you will, that +nowhere can there be a warmer welcome for you than at Wren's End. It +would be the greatest possible pleasure for the children and me to see +you there, and it is a good place to slack in and get strong. And there +I hope to challenge you to the round of golf we never managed during my +time in India. + +"Please try to realise, dear Mr. Ledgard, that my sense of your kindness +is deep and abiding, and, believe me, yours, in most true gratitude, + + "JANET ROSS." + +For a long time Peter sat very still, staring at the cheerful, +highly-coloured face painted on Fay's ball. Cigarette after cigarette +did he smoke as he reviewed the experience of the last six weeks. + +For the first time since he became a man he had been constantly in the +society of a woman younger than himself who appeared too busy and too +absorbed in other things to remember that she was a woman and he a man. + +Peter was ordinarily susceptible, and he was rather a favourite with +women because of his good manners; and his real good-nature made him +ready to help either in any social project that happened to be towards +or in times of domestic stress. Yet never until lately had he seen so +much of any woman not frankly middle-aged without being conscious that +he _was_ a man and she a woman, and this added, at all events, a certain +piquancy to the situation. + +Yet he had never felt this with Jan. + +Quite a number of times in the course of his thirty years he had fallen +in love in an agreeably surface sort of way without ever being deeply +stirred. Love-making was the pleasantest game in the world, but he had +not yet felt the smallest desire to marry. He was a shrewd young man, +and knew that marriage, even in the twentieth century, at all events +starts with the idea of permanence; and, like many others who show no +inclination to judge the matrimonial complications of their +acquaintance, he would greatly have disliked any sort of scandal that +involved himself or his belongings. + +He was quite as sensitive to criticism as other men in his service, and +he knew that he challenged it in lending his flat to Mrs. Tancred. But +here he felt that the necessities of the case far outweighed the +possibilities of misconception, and after Jan came he thought no more +about it. + +Yet in a young man with his somewhat cynical knowledge of the world, it +was surprising that the thought of his name being coupled with Jan's +never crossed his mind. He forgot that none of his friends knew Jan at +all, but that almost every evening they did see her with him in the +car--sometimes, it is true, accompanied by the children, but quite as +often alone--and that during her visit his spare time was so much +occupied in looking after the Tancred household that his friends saw +comparatively little of him, and Peter was, as a rule, a very sociable +person. + +Therefore it came upon him as a real shock when people began to ask him +point-blank whether he was engaged to Jan, and if so, what they were +going to do about Tancred's children. Rightly or wrongly, he discerned +in the question some veiled reflection upon Jan, some implied slur upon +her conduct. He was consequently very short and huffy with these +inquisitive ones, and when he was no longer present they would shake +their heads and declare that "poor old Peter had got it in the neck." + +If so, poor old Peter was, as yet, quite unconscious of anything of the +kind. + +Nevertheless he found himself constantly thinking about her. Everything, +even the familiar streets and roads, served to remind him of her, and +when he went to bed he nearly always dreamed about her. Absurd, +inconsequent, unsatisfactory dreams they were; for in them she was +always too busy to pay any attention to him at all; she was wholly +absorbed by what it is to be feared Peter sometimes called "those +confounded children." Though even in his dream world he was careful to +keep his opinion to himself. + +Why on earth should he always dream of Jan during the first part of the +night? + +Lalkhan could have thrown some light upon the subject. But naturally +Peter did not confide his obsession to Lalkhan. + +Just before she left Jan asked Lalkhan where the sahib's linen was kept, +and on being shown the cupboard which contained the rather untidy little +piles of sheets, pillow-cases, and towels that formed Peter's modest +store of house linen, she rearranged it and brought sundry flat, square +muslin bags filled with dried lavender. Lace-edged bags with +lavender-coloured ribbon run through insertion and tied in bows at the +two corners. These bags she placed among the sheets, much to the wonder +of Lalkhan, who, however, decided that it was kindly meant and therefore +did not interfere. + +The odour was not one that commended itself to him. It was far too faint +and elusive. He could understand a liking for attar of roses, of +jessamine, of musk, or of any of the strong scents beloved by the native +of India. Yet had she proposed to sprinkle the sheets with any of these +essences he would have felt obliged to interfere, as the sahib swore +violently and became exceedingly hot and angry did any member of his +household venture into his presence thus perfumed. Even as it was he +fully expected that his master would irritably demand the cause of the +infernal smell that pervaded his bed; so keen are the noses of the +sahibs. Whereupon Lalkhan, strong in rectitude, would relate exactly +what had happened, produce one of the Jan-incriminating muslin bags, +escape further censure, and doubtless be commanded to burn it and its +fellows in the kitchen stove. But nothing of the kind occurred, and, as +it is always easier to leave a thing where it has been placed than to +remove it, the lavender remained among the sheets in humble obscurity. + +The old garden at Wren's End abounded in great lavender bushes, and +every year since it became her property Jan made lavender sachets which +she kept in every possible place. Her own clothes always held a faint +savour of lavender, and she had packed these bags as much as a matter of +course as she packed her stockings. It seemed a shame, though, to take +them home again when she could get plenty more next summer, so she left +them in the bungalow linen cupboard. They reproduced her atmosphere; +therefore did Peter dream of Jan. + +A fortnight passed, and on their way to catch the homeward mail came +Thomas Crosbie and his wife from Dariawarpur to stay the night. Next +morning at breakfast Mrs. Crosbie, young, pretty and enthusiastic, +expatiated on the comfort of her room, finally exclaiming: "And how, +Mr. Ledgard, do you manage to have your sheets so deliciously scented +with lavender--d'you get it sent out from home every year?" + +"Lavender?" Peter repeated. "I've got no lavender. My people never sent +me any, and I've certainly never come across any in India." + +"But I'm convinced everything smelt of lavender. It made me think of +home so. If I hadn't been just going I'd have been too homesick for +words. I'm certain of it. Think! You must have got some from somewhere +and forgotten it." + +Peter shook his head. "I've never noticed it myself--you really must be +mistaken. What would I be doing with lavender?" + +"It was there all the same," Mrs. Crosbie continued. "I'm certain of it. +You must have got some from somewhere. Do find out--I'm sure I'm not +wrong. Ask your boy." + +Peter said something to Lalkhan, who explained volubly. Tom Crosbie +grinned; he understood even fluent Hindustani. His wife did not. Peter +looked a little uncomfortable. Lalkhan salaamed and left the room. + +"Well?" Mrs. Crosbie asked. + +"It seems," Peter said slowly, "there _is_ something among the sheets. +I've sent Lalkhan to get it." + +Lalkhan returned, bearing a salver, and laid on the salver was one of +Jan's lavender bags. He presented it solemnly to his master, who with +almost equal solemnity handed it to Mrs. Crosbie. + +"There!" she said. "Of course I knew I couldn't be mistaken. Now where +did you get it?" + +"It was, I suppose, put among the things when poor Mrs. Tancred had the +flat. I never noticed, of course--it's such an unobtrusive sort of +smell...." + +"Hadn't she a sister?" Mrs. Crosbie asked, curiously, holding the little +sachet against her soft cheek and looking very hard at Peter. + +"She had. It was she who took the children home, you know." + +"Older or younger than Mrs. Tancred?" + +"Older." + +"How much older?" + +"I really don't know," said the mendacious Peter. + +"Was she awfully pretty, too?" + +"Again, I really don't know. I never thought about her looks ... she had +grey hair...." + +"Oh!" Mrs. Crosbie exclaimed--a deeply disappointed "Oh." "Probably much +older, then. That explains the lavender bags." + +Silent Thomas Crosbie looked from his wife to Peter with considerable +amusement. He realised, if she didn't, that Peter was most successfully +putting her off the scent of more than lavender; but men are generally +loyal to each other in these matters, and he suddenly took his part in +the conversation and changed the subject. + +Among Peter's orders to his butler that morning was one to the effect +that nothing the Miss-Sahib had arranged in the bungalow was to be +disturbed, and the lavender bag was returned to rejoin its fellows in +the cupboard. + +It was four years since Peter had had any leave, and it appeared that +the lavender had the same effect upon him as upon Mrs. Crosbie. He felt +homesick--and applied for leave in May. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +"THE BEST-LAID SCHEMES" + + +Peter had been as good as his word, and had found a family returning to +India who were glad to take Ayah back to Bombay. And she, though sorry +to leave Jan and the children, acquiesced in all arrangements made for +her with the philosophic patience of the East. March was a cold month, +and she was often rather miserable, in spite of her pride in her shoes +and stockings and the warm clothes Jan had provided for her. + +Before she left Jan interviewed her new mistress and found her kind and +sensible, and an old campaigner who had made the voyage innumerable +times. + +It certainly occurred to Jan that Peter had been extraordinarily quick +in making this arrangement, but she concluded that he had written on the +subject before they left India. She had no idea that he had sent a long +and costly cable on the subject. His friend thought him very solicitous +for her comfort, but set it down entirely to her own merits and Peter's +discriminating good sense. + +When the day came Jan took Ayah to her new quarters in a taxi. Of course +Ayah wept, and Jan felt like weeping herself, as she would like to have +kept her on for the summer months. But she knew it wouldn't do; that +apart from the question of expense, Hannah could never overcome her +prejudices against "that heathen buddy," and that to have explained that +poor Ayah was a Roman Catholic would only have made matters worse. +Hannah was too valuable in every way to upset her with impunity, and the +chance of sending Ayah back to India in such kind custody was too good +to lose. + +Meg had deferred the adoption of the musical-comedy costume until such +time as she took over Ayah's duties. She in no way interfered, but was +helpful in so many unobtrusive ways that Jan, while she still felt +guilty in allowing her to stay at all, acknowledged she could never have +got through this time without her. + +Fortunately the day of Ayah's departure was fine, so that while Jan took +her to her destination Meg took the children to spend the afternoon at +the Zoo. To escort little Fay about London was always rather an ordeal +to anyone of a retiring disposition. She was so fearless, so interested +in her fellow-creatures, and so ready at all times and in all places to +enter into conversation with absolute strangers, preferably men, that +embarrassing situations were almost inevitable; and her speech, high and +clear and carrying--in spite of the missing "r"--rendered it rarely +possible to hope people did not understand what she said. + +They went by the Metropolitan to Baker Street and sat on one of the +small seats at right angles to the windows, and a gentleman wearing a +very shiny top-hat sat down opposite to them. + +He looked at little Fay; little Fay looked at him and, smiling her +adorable, confident smile, leant forward, remarking: "Sahib, you wear a +very high hat." + +Instantly the eyes of all the neighbouring passengers were fixed upon +the hat and its owner. His, however, were only for the very small lady +that faced him; the small lady in a close white bonnet and bewitching +curls that bobbed and fluttered in the swaying of the train. + +He took off the immaculate topper and held it out towards her. "There," +he said, "would you like to look at it?" + +Fay carefully rubbed it the wrong way with a tentative woolly-gloved +finger. "Plitty, high hat," she cooed. "Can plitty little Fay have it to +keep?" + +But the gentleman's admiration did not carry him as far as this. +Somewhat hastily he withdrew his hat, smoothed it (it had just been +ironed) and placed it on his head again. Then he became aware of the +smiling faces and concentrated gaze of his neighbours; also, that the +attractive round face that had given him so much pleasure had exchanged +its captivating smile for a pathetic melancholy that even promised +tears. He turned extremely red and escaped at the next station. +Whereupon ungrateful little Fay, who had never had the slightest +intention of crying, remarked loftily: "Tahsome man dawn." + +When at last they reached the Zoo Meg took it upon herself to +remonstrate with her younger charge. + +"You mustn't ask strangers for things, dear; you really mustn't--not in +the street or in the train." + +"What for?" asked Fay. She nearly always said, "What for" when she meant +"Why"; and it was as hard-worked a phrase as "What nelse?" + +"Because people don't do it, you know." + +"They do--I've heard 'em." + +"Well, beggars perhaps, but not nice little girls." + +"Do nasty little girls?" + +"_Only_ nasty little girls would do it, I think." + +Fay pondered this for a minute, then in a regretfully reflective voice +she said sadly: "Vat was a nasty, gleedy sahib in a tlain." + +"Not at all," Meg argued, struggling with her mirth. "How would you have +liked it if he'd asked you to give him your bonnet 'to keep'?" + +Little Fay hastily put up her hands to her head to be sure her bonnet +was in its place, then she inquired with great interest: "What's 'is +place, deah Med?" + +"Deah Med" soon found herself followed round by a small crowd of other +sight-seers who waited for and greeted little Fay's unceasing comments +with joyful appreciation. Such popular publicity was not at all to Meg's +taste, and although the afternoon was extremely cold her cheeks never +ceased to burn till she got the children safely back to the flat again. +Tony was gloomy and taciturn. Nobody took the slightest notice of him. +Weather that seemed to brace his sister to the most energetic gaiety +only made him feel torpid and miserable. He was not naughty, merely +apathetic, uninterested, and consequently uninteresting. Meg thought he +might be homesick and sad about Ayah, and was very kind and gentle, but +her advances met with no response. + +By this time Tony was sure of his aunt, but he had by no means made up +his mind about Meg. + +When they got back to Kensington Meg joyously handed over the children +to Jan while she retired to her room to array herself in her uniform. +She was to "take over" from that moment, and approached her new sphere +with high seriousness and an intense desire to be, as she put it, "a +wild success." + +For weeks she had been reading the publications of the P. N. E. U. and +the "Child-Study Society," to say nothing of Manuals upon "Infant +Hygiene," "The Montessori Method" and "The Formation of Character." +Sympathy and Insight, Duty and Discipline, Self-Control and Obedience, +Regularity and Concentration of Effort--all with the largest +capitals--were to be her watchwords. And she buttoned on her +well-fitting white linen apron (newest and most approved hospital +pattern, which she had been obliged to make herself, for she could buy +nothing small enough) in a spirit of dedication as sincere as that +imbuing any candidate for Holy Orders. Then, almost breathlessly, she +put her cap upon her flaming head and surveyed the general effect in the +long glass. + +Yes, it was all very satisfactory. Well-hung, short, green linen +frock--was it a trifle short? Yet the little feet in the low-heeled +shoes were neat as the ankles above them were slim, and one needed a +short skirt for "working about." + +Perhaps there _was_ a touch of musical comedy about her appearance, but +that was merely because she was so small and the cap, a muslin cap of a +Quakerish shape, distinctly becoming. Well, there was no reason why she +should want to look hideous. She would not be less capable because she +was pleasing to the eye. + +She seized her flannel apron from the bed where she had placed it ready +before she went out, and with one last lingering look at herself went +swiftly to her new duties. + +Tea passed peacefully enough, though Fay asked embarrassing questions, +such as "Why you wear suts a funny hat?" + +"Because I'm an ayah," Meg answered quickly. + +"Ayahs don't wear zose kind of hats." + +"English ayahs do, and I'm going to be your ayah, you know." + +Fay considered Meg for a minute. "No," she said, shaking her head. +"_No._" + +"Have another sponge-finger," Jan suggested diplomatically, handing the +dish to her niece, and the danger was averted. + +They played games with the children after tea and all went well till +bed-time. Meg had begged Jan to leave them entirely to her, and with +considerable misgiving she had seen Meg marshal the children to the +bathroom and shut the door. Tony was asked as a favour to go too this +first evening without Ayah, lest little Fay should feel lonely. It was +queer, Jan reflected when left alone in the drawing-room, how she seemed +to turn to the taciturn Tony for help where her obstreperous niece was +concerned. Over and over again Tony had intervened and successfully +prevented a storm. + +Meg turned on the bath and began to undress little Fay. She bore this +with comparative meekness, but when all her garments had been removed +she slipped from Meg's knees and, standing squarely on the floor, +announced: + +"I want my own Ayah. Engliss Ayah not wass me. Own Ayah muss come bat." + +"She can't, my darling; she's gone to other little girls, you know--we +told you many days ago." + +"She muss come bat--'_jaldi_,'" shouted Fay--"jaldi" being Hindustani +for "quickly." + +Meg sighed. "I'm afraid she can't do that. Come, my precious, and let me +bathe you; you'll get cold standing there." + +With a quick movement Meg seized the plump, round body. She was muscular +though so small, and in spite of little Fay's opposition she lifted her +into the bath. She felt Tony pull at her skirts and say something, but +was too busy to pay attention. + +Little Fay was in the bath sure enough, but to wash her was quite +another matter. You may lead a sturdy infant of three to the water in a +fixed bath, but no power on earth can wash that infant if it doesn't +choose. Fay screamed and struggled and wriggled and kicked, finally +slipping right under the water, which frightened her dreadfully; she +lost her breath for one second, only to give forth ear-splitting yells +the next. She was slippery as a trout and strong as a leaping salmon. + +Jan could bear it no longer and came in. Meg had succeeded in lifting +the terrified baby out of the bath, and she stood on the square of cork +defying the "Engliss Ayah," wet from her topmost curl to her pink toes, +but wholly unwashed. + +Tony ran to Jan and under all the din contrived to say: "It's the big +bath; she's frightened. Ayah never put her in the big bath." + +Meg had forgotten this. The little tin bath they had brought from India +for the voyage stood in a corner. + +It was filled, while Fay, wrapped in a Turkish towel, sobbed more +quietly, ejaculating between the gurgles: "Nasty hat, nasty Engliss +Ayah. I want my own deah Ayah!" + +When the bath was ready poor Meg again approached little Fay, but Fay +would have none of her. + +"No," she wailed, "Engliss Ayah in nasty hat _not_ wass me. Tony wass +me, _deah_ Tony." + +She held out her arms to her brother, who promptly received her in his. + +"You'd better let me," he said to the anxious young women. "We'll never +get her finished else." + +So it ended in Tony's being arrayed in the flannel apron which, tied +under his arm-pits, was not so greatly too long. With his sleeves +turned up he washed his small sister with thoroughness and despatch, +pointing out somewhat proudly that he "went into all the corners." + +[Illustration: He washed his small sister with thoroughness and +despatch, pointing out ... that he "went into all the corners."] + +The washing-glove was very large on Tony's little hand, and he used a +tremendous lot of soap--but Fay became all smiles and amiability during +the process. Meg and Jan had tears in their eyes as they watched the +quaint spectacle. There was something poignantly pathetic in the +clinging together of these two small wayfarers in a strange country, so +far from all they had known and shared in their short experience. + +Meg's "nasty hat" was rakishly askew upon her red curls, for Fay had +frequently grabbed at it in her rage, and the beautiful green linen gown +was sopping wet. + +"Engliss Ayah clying!" Fay remarked surprisedly. "What for?" + +"Because you wouldn't let me bathe you," said Meg dismally. Her voice +broke. She really was most upset. As it happened, she did the only thing +that would have appealed to little Fay. + +"Don't cly, deah Med," she said sweetly. "You sall dly me." + +And Meg, student of so many manuals, humbly and gratefully accepted the +task. + +It had taken exactly an hour and a quarter to get Fay ready for bed. +Indian Ayah used to do it in fifteen minutes. + +Consistently and cheerfully gracious, Fay permitted Meg to carry her to +her cot and tuck her in. + +Meg lit the night-light and switched off the light, when a melancholy +voice began to chant: + +"_My_ Ayah always dave me a choccly." + +Now there was no infant in London less deserving of a choccly at that +moment than troublesome little Fay. "Nursery Hygiene" proclaimed the +undeniable fact that sweetmeats last thing at night are most injurious. +Duty and Discipline and Self-Control should all have pointed out the +evil of any indulgence of the sort. Yet Meg, with all her theories quite +fresh and new, and with this excellent opportunity of putting them into +practice, extracted a choccly from a box on the chest of drawers; and +when the voice, "like broken music," announced for the third time, "_My_ +Ayah always dave me a choccly," "So will this Ayah," said Meg, and +popped it into the mouth whence the voice issued. + +There was a satisfied smacking and munching for a space, when the voice +took up the tale: + +"Once Tony had thlee----" + +But what it was Tony once had "thlee" of Meg was not to know that night, +for naughty little Fay fell fast asleep. + + * * * * * + +For a week Tony bathed his sister every night. Neither Jan nor Meg felt +equal to facing and going through again the terrors of that first night +without Ayah. Little Fay was quite good--she permitted Meg to undress +her and even to put her in the little bath, but once there she always +said firmly, "Tony wass me," and Tony did. + +Then he burned his hand. + +He was never openly and obstreperously disobedient like little Fay. On +the whole he preferred a quiet life free from contention. But very early +in their acquaintance Jan had discovered that what Tony determined upon +that he did, and in this he resembled her so strongly that she felt a +secret sympathy with him, even when such tenacity of purpose was most +inconvenient. + +He liked to find things out for himself, and no amount of warning or +prohibition could prevent his investigations. Thus it came about that, +carefully guarded as the children were from any contact with the fires, +Tony simply didn't believe what was told him of their dangers. + +Fires were new to him. They were so pretty, with their dancing flames, +it seemed a pity to shut them in behind those latticed guards Auntie Jan +was so fond of. Never did Tony see the fires without those tiresome +guards and he wanted to very much. + +One afternoon just before tea, while Meg was changing little Fay's +frock, he slipped across to the drawing-room where Auntie Jan was busy +writing a letter. Joy! the guard was off the fire; he could sit on the +rug and watch it undisturbed. He made no noise, but knelt down softly in +front of it and stretched out his hands to the pleasant warmth. It was +the sort of fire Tony liked to watch, red at the heart, with little +curling flames that were mirrored in the tiled hearth. + +Jan looked up from her writing and saw him there, saw also that there +was no guard, but, as little Fay had not yet come, thought Tony far too +sensible to interfere with the fire in any way. She went on with her +writing; then when she looked again something in the intentness of his +attitude caused her to say: "Be sure you don't get too near the fire, +Tony; it hurts badly to be burned." + +"Yes, Auntie Jan," Tony said meekly. + +She wrote a few lines more, looked up, and held her breath. It would +have been an easy matter even then to dash across and put on the guard; +but in a flash Jan realised that to let Tony burn himself a little at +that moment might save a very bad accident later on. There was nothing +in his clothes to catch alight. His woollen jersey fitted closely. + +Exactly as though he were going to pick a flower, with curved hand +outstretched Tony tried to capture and hold one of the dancing flames. +He drew his hand back very quickly, and Jan expected a loud outcry, but +none came. He sat back on the hearth-rug and rocked his body to and fro, +holding the burnt right hand with his left, but he did not utter a +sound. + +"It does hurt, doesn't it?" said Jan. + +He started at the quiet voice and turned a little puckered face towards +her. "Yes," he said, with a big sigh; "but I know now." + +"Come with me and I'll put something on it to make it hurt less," said +Jan, and crossed to the door. + +"Hadn't we better," he said, rather breathlessly, "put that thing on for +fear of Fay?" + +Jan carefully replaced the "thing" and took him to her room, where she +bandaged the poor little hand with carron-oil and cotton-wool. The outer +edge was scorched from little finger to wrist. She made no remark while +she did it, and Tony leaned confidingly against her the while. + +"Is that better?" she asked, when she had fastened the final safety-pin +in the bandage. There was one big tear on Tony's cheek. + +"It's nice and cool, that stuff. _Why_ does it hurt so, Auntie Jan? It +looks so kind and pretty." + +"It is kind and pretty, only we mustn't go too near. Will you be sure +and tell Fay how it can hurt?" + +"I'll _tell_ her," he promised, but he didn't seem to have much hope of +the news acting as a deterrent. + +When at bed-time Jan announced that Tony could not possibly bathe Fay +because he mustn't get his hand wet or disturb the dressing, she and Meg +tremblingly awaited the awful fuss that seemed bound to follow. + +But Fay was always unexpected. "Then Med muss wass me," she remarked +calmly. The good custom was established and Meg began to perk up again. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE WHEELS OF CHANCE + + +Meg was out walking with the children in Kensington Gardens, and Hannah +was paying the tradesmen's books. It was the only way to make Hannah +take the air, to send her, as she put it, "to do the messages." She +liked paying the books herself, for she always suspected Jan of not +counting the change. + +Jan was alone in the flat and was laying tea for the children in the +dining-room when "ting" went the electric bell. She opened the door to +find upon the threshold an exceedingly tall young man; a well-set-up, +smart young man with square shoulders, who held out his hand to her, +saying in a friendly voice: "You may just happen to remember me, Miss +Ross, but probably not. Colonel Walcote's my uncle, and he's living in +your house, you know. My name's Middleton ... I _hope_ you remember me, +for I've come to ask a favour." + +As he spoke he gave Jan his card, and on it was "Captain Miles +Middleton, R. H. A.," and the addresses of two clubs. + +She led him to the little drawing-room, bracing herself the while to be +firm in her refusal if the Walcotes wanted the house any longer, good +tenants though they were. + +She was hopelessly vague about her guest, but felt she had met him +somewhere. She didn't like to confess how slight her recollection was, +for he looked so big and brown and friendly it seemed unkind. + +He sat down, smoothed his hat, and then with an engaging smile that +showed his excellent teeth, began: "I've come--it sounds rather +farcical, doesn't it--about a dog?" + +"A dog?" Jan repeated vaguely. "What dog?" + +"Well, he's my dog at present, but I want him to be your dog--if you'll +have him." + +"You want to give me a dog--but why? Or do you only want me to keep him +a bit for you?" + +"Well, it's like this, Miss Ross; it would be cheek to ask you to keep a +young dog, and when you'd had all the trouble of him and got fond of +him--and you'll get awfully fond of him, if you have him--to take him +away again. It wouldn't be fair, it really wouldn't ... so...." + +"Wait a bit," said the cautious Jan. "What sort of a dog is he ... if it +is a he...." + +"He's a bull-terrier...." + +"Oh, but I don't think I'm very fond of bull-terriers ... aren't they +fierce and doesn't one always associate them with public-houses? I +couldn't have a fierce dog, you know, because of the two children." + +"They're always nice with children," Captain Middleton said firmly. "And +as for the pothouse idea--that's quite played out. I suppose it was that +picture with the mug and the clay pipe. He'd _love_ the children; he's +only a child himself, you know." + +"A puppy! Oh, Captain Middleton, wouldn't he eat all our shoes and +things and tear up all the rugs?" + +"I think he's past that, I do really--he'll be a year old on Monday. +He'll be a splendid watchdog, and he's not a bit deaf--lots of 'em are, +you know--and he's frightfully well-bred. Just you look at the +pedigree ..." and Captain Middleton produced from his breast-pocket a +folded foolscap document which he handed to Jan. + +She gazed at it with polite interest, though it conveyed but little to +her mind. The name "Bloomsbury" seemed to come over and over again. +There were many dates and other names, but "Bloomsbury" certainly +prevailed, and it was evident that Captain Middleton's dog had a long +pedigree; it was all quite clearly set down, and, to Jan, very +bewildering. + +"His points are on the back page," Captain Middleton said proudly, "and +there isn't a single one a perfect bull-terrier ought to have that +William Bloomsbury hasn't got." + +"Is that his name?" + +"Yes, but I call him William, only he is of the famous Bloomsbury +strain, you know, and one can't help being a bit proud of it." + +"But," Jan objected, "if he's so well-bred and perfect, he must be +valuable--so why should you want to give him to me?" + +"I'll explain," said Captain Middleton. "You see, ever since they've +been down at Wren's End, my aunt kept him for me. He's been so happy +there, Miss Ross, and grown like anything. We're stationed in St. John's +Wood just now, you know, and he'd be certain to be stolen if I took him +back there. And now my aunt's coming to London to a flat in Buckingham +Gate. Now London's no life for a dog--a young dog, anyway--he'd be +miserable. I've been down to Wren's End very often for a few days' +hunting, and I can see he's happy as a king there, and we may be ordered +anywhere any day ... and I don't want to sell him ... You see, I know if +you take him you'll be good to him ... and he _is_ such a nice beast." + +"How do you know I'd be good to him? You know nothing about me." + +"Don't I just! Besides, I've seen you, I'm seeing you now this +minute ... I don't want to force him on you, only ... a lady living +alone in the country ought to have a dog, and if you take William you +won't be sorry--I can promise you that. He's got the biggest heart, and +he's the nicest beast ... and the most faithful...." + +"Are you sure he'll be quite gentle with the children?" + +"He's gentle with everybody, and they're well known to be particularly +good with children ... you ask anyone who knows about dogs. He was given +me when he was three weeks old, and I could put him in my pocket." + +Captain Middleton was rather appealing just then, so earnest and big and +boyish. His face was broad though lean, the features rather blunt, the +eyes set wide apart; clear, trustworthy, light-blue eyes. He looked just +what he was--a healthy, happy, prosperous young Englishman without a +real care in the world. After all, Jan reflected, there was plenty of +room at Wren's End, and it was good for the children to grow up with +animals. + +"I had thought of an Airedale," she said thoughtfully, "but----" + +"They're good dogs, but quarrelsome--fight all the other dogs round +about. Now William isn't a fighter unless he's unbearably provoked, +then, of course, he fights to kill." + +"Oh dear!" sighed Jan, "that's an awful prospect. Think of the trouble +with one's neighbours----" + +"But I assure you, it doesn't happen once in a blue moon. I've never +known him fight yet." + +"I'll tell you what, Captain Middleton; let me keep him for the present, +till you know where you're going to be stationed, and then, if you find +you can have him, he's there for you to take. I'll do my best for him, +but I want you to feel he's still your dog...." + +"It's simply no end good of you, Miss Ross. I'd like you to have him +though ... May I put it this way? If you don't like him, find him a +nuisance or want to get rid of him, you send for me and I'll fetch him +away directly. But if you like him, he's your dog. There--may I leave it +at that?" + +"We'll try to make him happy, but I expect he'll miss you dreadfully.... +I know nothing about bull-terriers; do they need any special +treatment?" + +"Oh dear, no. William's as strong as a young calf. Just a bone +occasionally and any scraps there are. There's tons of his biscuits down +there ... only two meals a day and no snacks between, and as much +exercise as is convenient--though, mind you, they're easy dogs in that +way--they don't need you to be racing about all day like some." + +The present fate of William Bloomsbury with the lengthy and exalted +pedigree being settled, Jan asked politely for her tenants, Colonel and +Mrs. Walcote, heard that it had been an excellent and open season, and +enjoyed her guest's real enthusiasm about Wren's End. + +After a few minutes of general conversation he got up to go. She saw him +out and rang up the lift, but no lift came. She rang again and again. +Nothing happened. Evidently something had gone wrong, and she saw people +walking upstairs to the flats below. Just as she was explaining the +mishap to her guest, the telephone bell sounded loudly and persistently. + +"Oh dear!" she cried. "Would you mind very much stopping a young lady +with two little children, if you meet them at the bottom of the stairs, +and tell her she is on no account to carry up little Fay. It's my +friend, Miss Morton; she's out with them, and she's not at all strong; +tell her to wait for me. I'll come the minute I've answered this +wretched 'phone." + +"Don't you worry, Miss Ross, I'll stop 'em and carry up the kiddies +myself," Captain Middleton called as he started to run down, and Jan +went back to answer the telephone. + +He ran fast, for Jan's voice had been anxious and distressed. Five long +flights did he descend, and at the bottom he met Meg and the children +just arrived to hear the melancholy news from the hall porter. + +Meg always wheeled little Fay to and from the gardens in the funny +little folding "pram" they had brought from India. The plump baby was a +tight fit, but the queer little carriage was light and easily managed. +The big policeman outside the gate often held up the traffic to let Meg +and her charges get across the road safely, and she would sail serenely +through the avenue of fiercely panting monsters with Tony holding on to +her coat, while little Fay waved delightedly to the drivers. That +afternoon she was very tired, for it had started to rain, cold, gusty +March rain. She had hurried home in dread lest Tony should take cold. It +seemed the last straw, somehow, that the lift should have gone wrong. +She left the pram with the porter and was just bracing herself to carry +heavy little Fay when this very tall young man came dashing down the +staircase, saw them and raised his hat. "Miss Morton? Miss Ross has just +entrusted me with a message ... that I'm to carry her niece upstairs," +and he took little Fay out of Meg's arms. + +Meg looked up at him. She had to look up a long way--and he looked down +into a very small white face. + +The buffeting wind that had given little Fay the loveliest colour, and +Tony a very pink nose, only left Meg pallid with fatigue; but she smiled +at Captain Middleton, and it was a smile of such radiant happiness as +wholly transfigured her face. It came from the exquisite knowledge that +Jan had thought of her, had known she would be tired. + +To be loved, to be remembered, to be taken care of was to Meg the most +wonderful thing in the world. It went to her head like wine. + +Therefore did she smile at Captain Middleton in this distracting +fashion. It started tremblingly at the corners of her mouth, and +then--quite suddenly--her wan little face became dimpled and beseeching +and triumphant all at once. + +It had no connection whatsoever with Captain Middleton, but how was he +to know that? + +It fairly bowled him, middle stump, first ball. + +No one had ever smiled at him like that before. It turned him hot and +cold, and gave him a lump in his throat with the sheer heartrending +pathos of it. And he felt an insane desire to lie down and ask this +tiny, tired girl to walk upon him if it would give her the smallest +satisfaction. + +The whole thing passed in a flash, but for him it was one of those +illuminating beams that discovers a hitherto undreamed-of panorama. + +He caught up little Fay, who made no objection, and ran up all five +flights about as fast as he had run down. Jan was just coming out of the +flat. + +"Here's one!" he cried breathlessly, depositing little Fay. "And now +I'll go down and give the little chap a ride as well." + +He met them half-way up. "Now it's your turn," he said to Tony. "Would +you like to come on my back?" + +Tony, though taciturn, was not unobservant. "I think," he said solemnly, +"Meg's more tired nor me. P'raps you'd better take her." + +Meg laughed, and what the rain and wind could not do, Tony managed. Her +cheeks grew rosy. + +"I'm afraid I should be rather heavy, Tony dear, but it's kind of you to +think of it." + +She looked up at Captain Middleton and smiled again. What a kind world +it was! And really that tall young man was rather a pleasant person. So +it fell out that Tony was carried the rest of the way, and he had a +longer ride than little Fay; for his steed mounted the staircase +soberly, keeping pace with Meg; they even paused to take breath on the +landings. And it came about that Captain Middleton went back into the +flat with the children, showing no disposition to go away, and Jan could +hardly do less than ask him to share the tea she had laid in the +dining-room. + +There he got a shock, for Meg came to tea in her cap and apron. + +Out of doors she wore a long, warm coat that entirely covered the green +linen frock, and a little round fur hat. This last was a concession to +Jan, who hated the extinguisher. So Meg looked very much like any other +girl. A little younger, perhaps, than any young woman of twenty-five +has any business to look, but pretty in her queer, compelling way. + +That she looked even prettier in her uniform Captain Middleton would +have been the first to allow; but he hated it nevertheless. There seemed +to him something incongruous and wrong for a girl with a smile like that +to be anybody's nursemaid. + +To be sure, Miss Ross was a brick, and this queer little servant of hers +called her by her Christian name and contradicted her flatly twice in +the course of tea. Miss Morton certainly did not seem to be downtrodden +... but she wore a cap and an apron--a very becoming Quakerish cap ... +without any strings ... and--"it's a d----d shame," was the outcome of +all Captain Middleton's reflections. + +"Would the man never go?" Jan wondered, when after a prolonged and +hilarious tea he followed the enraptured children back to the +drawing-room and did tricks with the fire-irons. + +Meg had departed in order to get things ready for the night, and he hung +on in the hope that she would return. Vain hope; there was no sign of +her. + +He told the children all about William Bloomsbury and exacted promises +that they would love him very much. He discussed, with many +interruptions from Fay, who wanted all his attention, the entire +countryside round about Wren's End; and, at last, as there seemed really +no chance of that extraordinary girl's return, he heaved his great +length out of his chair and bade his hostess a reluctant farewell +several times over. + +In the passage he caught sight of Meg going from one room to another +with her arms full of little garments. + +"Ah," he cried, striding towards her. "Good night, Miss Morton. I hope +we shall meet again soon," and he held out his hand. + +Meg ignored the hand, her own arms were so full of clothes: "I'm afraid +that's not likely," she said, with unfeeling cheerfulness. "We all go +down to the country on Monday." + +"Yes, yes, I know. Jolly part of the world it is, too. I expect I shall +be thereabouts a good deal this summer, my relations positively swarm in +that county." + +"Good-bye," said Meg, and turned to go. Jan stood at the end of the +passage, holding the door open. + +"I say, Miss Morton, you'll try and like my William, won't you?" + +"I like all sensible animals," was Meg's response, and she vanished into +a bedroom. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +PERPLEXITIES + + +"Don't you think it is very extraordinary that I have never had one line +from Hugo since the letter I got at Aden?" asked Jan. + +It was Friday evening, the Indian mail was in, and there was a letter +from Peter--the fourth since her return. + +"But you've heard of him from Mr. Ledgard," Meg pointed out. + +"Only that he had gone to Karachi from Bombay just before Fay +died--surely he would see papers there. It seems so heartless never to +have written me a line--I can't believe it, somehow, even of Hugo--he +must be ill or something." + +"Perhaps he was ashamed to write. Perhaps he felt you would simply +loathe him for being the cause of it all." + +"I did, I do," Jan exclaimed; "but all the same he is the children's +father, and he was her husband--I don't want anything very bad to happen +to him." + +"It would simplify things very much," Meg said dreamily. + +Jan held up her hand as if to ward off a blow. + +"Don't, Meg; sometimes I find myself wishing something of the kind, and +I know it's wrong and horrible. I want as far as I can to keep in the +right with regard to Hugo, to give him no grievance against me. I've +written to that bank where he left the money, and asked them to forward +the letters if he has left any address. I've told him exactly where we +are and what we propose to do. Beyond the bare facts of Fay's death--I +told him all about her illness as dispassionately as I could--I've never +reproached him or said anything cruel. You see, the man is down and out; +though Mr. Ledgard always declared he had any amount of mysterious wires +to pull. Yet, I can't help wondering whether he is ill somewhere, with +no money and no friends, in some dreadful native quarter." + +"What about the money in the bank, then? Did you use it?" + +Jan blushed. "No, I couldn't bear to touch his money ... Mr. Ledgard +said it was idiotic...." + +"So it was; it was Fay's money, not his. For all your good sense, Jan, +sometimes you're sentimental as a schoolgirl." + +"I daresay it was stupid, and I didn't dare to tell Mr. Ledgard I'd left +it," Jan said humbly; "but I felt that perhaps that money might help him +if things got very desperate; I left it in his name and a letter telling +him I had done so ... I didn't _give_ him any money...." + +"It was precisely the same thing." + +"And he may never have got the letter." + +"I hope he hasn't." + +"Oh, Meg, I do so hate uncertainty. I'd rather know the worst. I always +have the foreboding that he will suddenly turn up at Wren's End and +threaten to take the children away ... and get money out of me that way +... and there's none to spare...." + +"Jan, you've got into a thoroughly nervous, pessimistic state about +Hugo. Why in the world should he _want_ the children? They'd be terribly +in his way, and wherever he put them he'd have to pay _something_. You +know very well his people wouldn't keep them for nothing, even if he +were fool enough (for the sake of blackmailing you) to threaten to place +them there. His sisters wouldn't--not for nothing. What did Fay say +about his sisters? I remember one came to the wedding, but she has left +no impression on my mind. He has two, hasn't he?" + +"Yes, but only one came, the Blackpool one. But Fay met both of them, +for she spent a week-end with each, with Hugo, after she was married." + +"Well, and what did she say?" + +Jan laughed and sighed: "She said--you remember how Fay could say the +severest things in the softest, gentlest voice--that 'for social +purposes they were impossible, but they were doubtless excellent and +worthy of all esteem and that they were exactly suited to the _milieu_ +in which they lived.'" + +"And where do they live?" + +"One lives at Blackpool--she's married to ... I forget exactly what he +is--but it's something to do with letting houses. They're quite well off +and all her towels had crochet lace at the ends. Fay was much impressed +by this, as it scratched her nose. They also gave you 'doylies' at +afternoon tea and no servant ever came into the room without knocking." + +"Any children?" + +"Yes, three." + +"And the other sister?" + +"She lives at Poulton-le-Fylde, and her husband had to do with a +newspaper syndicate. Quite amusing he was, Fay says, but very shaky as +to the letter 'H.'" + +"Would they like the children?" + +"They might, for they've none of their own, but they certainly wouldn't +take them unless they were paid for, as they were not well off. They +were rather down on the Blackpool sister, Fay said, for extravagance and +general swank." + +"What about the grandparents?" + +"In Guernsey? They're quite nice old people, I believe, but +curiously--of course I'm quoting Fay--comatose and uninterested in +things, 'behindhand with the world,' she said. They thought Hugo very +wonderful, and seemed rather afraid of him. What he has told them lately +I don't know. He wrote very seldom, they said; but _I've_ written to +them, saying I've got the children and where we shall be. If they +express a wish to see the children I'll ask them to Wren's End. If, as +would be quite reasonable, they say it's too far to come--they're old +people, you know--I suppose one of us would need to take them over to +Guernsey for a visit. I do so want to do the right thing all round, and +then they can't say I've kept the children away from their father's +relations." + +"Scotch people always think such a lot about relations," Meg grumbled. +"I should leave them to stew in their own juice. Why should you bother +about them if he doesn't?" + +"They're all quite respectable, decent folk, you know, though they +mayn't be our kind. The father, I fancy, failed in business after he +came back from India. Fay said he was very meek and depressed always. I +think she was glad none of them came to the wedding except the Blackpool +sister, for she didn't want Daddie to see them. He thought the Blackpool +sister dreadful (he told me afterwards that she 'exacerbated his mind +and offended his eye'), but he was charming to her and never said a word +to Fay." + +"I don't see much sign of Hugo and his people in the children." + +"We can't tell, they're so little. One thing does comfort me, they show +no disposition to tell lies; but that, I think, is because they have +never been frightened. You see, everyone bowed down before them; and +whatever Indian servants may be in other respects, they seem to me +extraordinarily kind and patient with children." + +"Jan, what are your views about the bringing up of children?... You've +never said ... and I should like to know. You see, we're both"--here Meg +sighed deeply and looked portentously grave--"in a position of awful +responsibility." + +They were sitting on each side of the hearth, with their toes on the +fender. Meg had been sewing at an overall for little Fay, but at that +moment she laid it on her knee and ran her hands through her cropped +hair, then about two inches long all over her head, so that it stood on +end in broken spirals and feathery curls above her bright eyes. In the +evening the uniform was discarded "by request." + +Jan looked across at her and laughed. + +So funny and so earnest; so small, and yet so great with purpose. + +"I don't think I've any views. R. L. S. summed up the whole duty of +children ages ago, and it's our business to see that they do it--that's +all. Don't you remember: + + A child should always say what's true, + And speak when he is spoken to, + And behave mannerly at table: + At least as far as he is able. + +It's no use to expect too much, is it?" + +"If you expect to get the second injunction carried out in the case of +your niece you're a most optimistic person. For three weeks now I've +been perambulating Kensington Gardens with those children, and I have +never in the whole course of my life entered into conversation with so +many strangers, and it's always she who begins it. Then complications +arise and I have to intervene. I don't mind policemen and park-keepers +and roadmen, but I rather draw the line at idly benevolent old gentlemen +who join our party and seem to spend the whole morning with us...." + +"But, Meg, that never happens when I'm with you. I confess I've left +you to it this last week...." + +"And what am I here for except to be left to it--I don't mean that +anyone's rude or pushing--but Miss Tancred _is_ so friendly, and I'm not +dignified and awe-inspiring like you, you great big Jan; and the poor +men are encouraged, directly and deliberately encouraged, by your niece. +I never knew a child with such a continual flow of conversation." + +"Poor Meg," said Jan, "you won't have much more of it. Little Fay _is_ a +handful, I confess; but I always feel it must be a bit hard to be hushed +continually--and just when one feels particularly bright and sparkling, +to have all one's remarks cut short...." + +"You needn't pity that child. No amount of hushing has any effect; you +might just as well hush a blackbird or a thrush. Don't look so worried, +Jan. Did Mr. Ledgard say anything about Hugo in that letter to-night?" + +"Only that he was known to have left Karachi in a small steamer going +round the coast, but after that nothing more. Mr. Ledgard has a friend +in the Police, and even there they've heard nothing lately. I think +myself the Indian Government _wants_ to lose sight of Hugo. He's +inconvenient and disgraceful, and they'd like him blotted out as soon as +possible." + +"What else does Mr. Ledgard say? He seems to write good long letters." + +"He is coming home at the end of April for six months." + +"Oh ... then we shall see him, I suppose?" + +"I hope so." + +Meg looked keenly at Jan, who was staring into the fire, her eyes soft +and dreamy; and almost as if she was unconsciously thinking aloud, she +said: "I do hope, if Hugo chooses to turn up, he'll wait till Mr. +Ledgard is back in England." + +"You think he could manage him?" + +"I know he could." + +"Then let us pray for his return," said Meg. + +The clock on the mantelpiece struck eleven. + +"Bed-time," said Meg, "but I must have just one cigarette first. That's +what's so lovely about being with you, Jan--you don't mind. Of course +I'd never do it before the children." + +"You wouldn't shock them if you did. Fay smoked constantly." + +Meg lit her cigarette and clearly showed her real enjoyment. She had +taken to it first when she was about fifteen, as she found it helped her +to feel less hungry. Now it had become as much a necessity to her as to +many men, and the long abstinence of term-time had always been a +penance. + +She made some good rings, and, leaning forward to look through them at +Jan, said: "By the way, I must just tell you that for the last three +afternoons we've met that Captain Middleton in the Gardens." + +"Well?" + +"And he talks everlastingly about his dog--that William Bloomsbury +creature. I know _all_ the points of a bull-terrier now--'Well-set head +gradually tapering to muzzle, which is very powerful and well-filled up +in front of the eyes. Nose large and black. Teeth dead-level and big' +... oh! and reams more, every bit of him accurately described." + +"I'm a little afraid of those teeth so 'dead-level and big'--I foresee +trouble." + +"Oh, no," said Meg easily. "He's evidently a most affectionate brute. +That young man puzzles me. He's manifestly devoted to the dog, but he's +so sure he'd be stolen he'd rather have him away from him down at Wren's +End than here with him, to run that risk." + +"Surely," said Jan, "Kensington Gardens are some distance from St. +John's Wood." + +"So one would think, but the rich and idle take taxis, and he seems to +think he can in some way insure the welfare of his dog through the +children and me." + +"And what about the old gentlemen? Do they join the party as well?" + +"Oh, dear no; no old gentlemen would dare to come within miles of us +with that young man in charge of little Fay. He's like your Mr. +Ledgard--very protective." + +"I like him for being anxious about his dog, but I'm not quite so sure +that I approve of the means he takes to insure its happiness." + +"I didn't encourage him in the least, I assure you. I pointed out that +he most certainly ought not to be walking about with a nurse and two +children. That the children without the nurse would be all right, but +that my being there made the whole thing highly inexpedient, and _infra +dig_." + +"Meg!... you didn't!" + +"I did, indeed. There was no use mincing matters." + +"And what did he say?" + +"He said, 'Oh, that's all bindles'--whatever that may mean." + +"You mustn't go to the Gardens alone any more. I'll come with you +to-morrow, or, better still, we'll all go to Kew if it's fine." + +"I _should_ be glad, though I grudge the fares; but you needn't come. I +know how busy you are, with Hannah away and so much to see to--and what +earthly use am I if I can't look after the children without you?" + +"You do look after the children without me for hours and hours on end. I +could never trust anyone else as I do you." + +"I _am_ getting to manage them," Meg said proudly; "but just to-day I +must tell you--it was rather horrid--we came face to face with the +Trents in the Baby's Walk. Mrs. Trent and Lotty, the second girl, the +big, handsome one--and he evidently knows them...." + +"Who evidently knows them?" + +"Captain Middleton, silly! (I told you he was with us, talking about his +everlasting dog)--and they greeted him with effusion, so he had to stop. +But you can imagine how they glared at me. Of course I walked on with +Tony, but little Fay had his hand--I was wheeling the go-cart thing and +she stuck firmly to him, and I heard her interrupting the conversation +all the time. He followed us directly, I'll say that for him, but it was +a bad moment ... You see, they had a right to glare...." + +"They had nothing of the kind. I wish I got the chance of glaring at +them. Daddie _saw_ Mrs. Trent; he explained everything, and she said she +quite understood." + +"She would, to him, he was so nice always; but you see, Jan, I know what +she believes and what she has said, and what she will probably say to +Captain Middleton if she gets the chance." + +Meg's voice broke. "Of course I don't care----" + +She held her tousled head very high and stuck out her sharp little chin. + +"My dear," said Jan, "what with my gregarious niece and my +too-attractive nurse, I think it's a good thing we're all going down to +Wren's End, where the garden-walls are high and the garden fairly large. +Besides all that, there will be that dog with the teeth 'dead-level and +big.'" + +"Remember," said Meg. "He treated me like a princess always." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +WREN'S END + + +It stands just beyond the village of Amber Guiting, on the side furthest +from the station, which is a mile from the village. + +"C. C. S. 1819" is carved above the front door, but the house was built +a good fifty years previous to that date. + +One Charles Considine Smith, who had been a shipper of sherry in +Billiter Street, in the City of London, bought it in that year from a +Quaker called Solomon Page, who planted the yew hedge that surrounds the +smooth green lawn seen from the windows of the morning-room. There was a +curious clause attached to the title-deeds, which stipulated that no +cats should be kept by the owner of Wren's End, lest they should +interfere with the golden-crested wrens that built in the said yew +hedge, or the brown wrens building at the foot of the hedges in the +orchard. Appended to this injunction were the following verses: + + If aught disturb the wrens that build, + If ever little wren be killed + By dweller in Wren's End-- + + Misfortunes--whence he shall not know-- + Shall fall on him like noiseless snow, + And all his steps attend. + + Peace be upon this house; and all + That dwell therein good luck befall, + That do the wrens befriend. + +Charles Considine Smith faithfully kept to his agreement regarding the +protection of the wrens, and much later wrote a series of articles upon +their habits, which appeared in the _North Cotswold Herald_. He seems to +have been on friendly terms with Solomon Page, who, having inherited a +larger property in the next county, removed thence when he sold Wren's +End. + +In 1824 Smith married Tranquil Page, daughter of Solomon. She was then +thirty-seven years old, and, according to one of her husband's diaries, +"a staid person like myself." She was twenty years younger than her +husband and bore him one child, a daughter also named Tranquil. + +She, however, appears to have been less staid than her parents, for she +ran away before she was twenty with a Scottish advocate called James +Ross. + +The Smiths evidently forgave the wilful Tranquil, for, on the death of +Charles, she and her husband left Scotland and settled with her mother +at Wren's End. She had two children, Janet, the great-aunt who left Jan +Wren's End, and James, Jan's grandfather, who was sent to Edinburgh for +his education, and afterwards became a Writer to the Signet. He married +and settled in Edinburgh, preferring Scotland to England, and it was +with his knowledge and consent that Wren's End was left to his sister +Janet. + +Janet never married. She was energetic, prudent, and masterful, having +an excellent head for business. She was kind to her nephews and nieces +in a domineering sort of way, and had always a soft place in her heart +for Anthony, though she regarded him as more or less of a scatter-brain. +When she was nearly eighty she commanded his little girls to visit her. +Jan was then fourteen and Fay eleven. She liked them because they had +good manners and were neither of them in the least afraid of her. And at +her death, six years later, she left Wren's End to Jan absolutely--as it +stood; but she left her money to Anthony's elder brother, who had a +large family and was not particularly well off. + +That year was a good artistic year for Anthony, and he spent over five +hundred pounds in--as he put it--"making Jan's house habitable." + +This proved not a bad investment, for they had let it every winter since +to Colonel Walcote for the hunting season, as three packs of hounds met +within easy reach of it; and although the stabling accommodation at +Wren's End was but small, plenty of loose boxes were always obtainable +from Farmer Burgess quite near. + +Amber Guiting is a big village, almost a little town. It possesses an +imposing main street wherein are several shops, among them a stationer's +with a lending library in connection with Mudie's; a really beautiful +old inn with a courtyard; and grave-looking, dignified houses occupied +by the doctor, a solicitor, and several other persons of acknowledged +gentility. + +There were many "nice places" round about, and altogether the +inhabitants of Amber Guiting prided themselves, with some reason, on the +social and aesthetic advantages of their neighbourhood. Moreover, it is +not quite three hours from Paddington. You catch the express from the +junction. + +Notwithstanding all these agreeable circumstances, William Bloomsbury +was very lonely and miserable. + +All the friends he knew and loved had gone, leaving him in the somewhat +stepmotherly charge of a caretaker from the village, who was supposed to +be getting the house ready for its owner. To join her came +Hannah--having left her young ladies with an "orra-buddy" in the flat. +And after Hannah came the caretaker-lady did not stop long, for their +ideas on the subject of cleanliness were diametrically opposed. Hannah +was faithful and punctual as regarded William's meals; but though his +body was more comfortable than during the caretaker's reign, his heart +was empty and hungry, and he longed ardently for social intercourse and +an occasional friendly pat. + +Presently in Hannah's train came Anne Chitt, a meek young assistant from +the village, who did occasionally gratify William's longing for a little +attention; but so soon as she began to pat him and say he was a good +dog, she was called away by Hannah to sweep or dust or wash something. +In William's opinion the whole house was a howling wilderness where +pails of water easily upset, and brooms that fell upon the unsuspecting +with resounding blows lay ambushed in unexpected places. + +Men and dogs alike abhor "spring-cleaning," and William's heart died +within him. + +There came a day, however, when things were calmer. The echoing, +draughty house grew still and warm, and a fire was lit in the hall. +William lay in front of it unmolested; but he felt dejected and lonely, +and laid his head down on his crossed paws in patient melancholy. + +Late in the afternoon, there came a sound of wheels in the drive. Hannah +and Anne Chitt, decorous in black dresses and clean aprons, came into +the hall and opened the front door, and in three minutes William knew +that happier times were in store for him. The "station-fly" stopped at +the door, and regardless of Hannah's reproving voice he rushed out to +welcome the strangers. Two children, nice children, who appeared as glad +to see him as he was to see them, who wished him many happy returns of +his birthday--William had forgotten it was his birthday--and were as +lavish with pats and what little Fay called "stlokes" as Hannah had been +niggardly. There were also two young ladies, who addressed him kindly +and seemed pleasantly aware of his existence, and William liked young +ladies, for the three Miss Walcotes had thoroughly spoiled him. But he +decided to attach himself most firmly to the children and the very small +young lady. Perhaps they would stay. In his short experience grown +people had a cruel way of disappearing. There was that tall young man +... William hardly dared let himself think about that tall young man who +had allowed him to lie upon his bed and was so kind and jolly. "Master" +William had called him. Ah, where was he? Perhaps he would come back +some day. In the meantime here were plenty of people to love. William +cheered up. + +[Illustration: William rushed out to welcome the strangers. Two ... nice +children.] + +He wished to ingratiate himself, and proceeded to show off his one +accomplishment. With infinite difficulty and patience the Miss Walcotes +had taught him to "give a paw"; so now, on this first evening, William +followed the children about solemnly offering one paw and then the +other; a performance which was greeted with acclamation. + +When the children went to the bathroom he somehow got shut outside. So +he lay down and breathed heavily through the bottom of the door and +varied this by thin, high-pitched yelps--which were really squeals, and +very extraordinary as proceeding from such a large and heavy dog. + +"William wants to come in," Tony said. He still always accompanied his +sister to the bath. + +Meg was seized with an inspiration. "I know why," she exclaimed. "He +expects to see little Fay in the big bath." + +Fay looked from Meg to her brother and from her brother to Meg. + +Another dismal squeal from under the door. + +"Does he tluly espect it?" she asked anxiously. + +"I think so," Meg said gravely, "and we can't let him in if you're going +to be washed in the little bath; he'd be so disappointed." + +The little bath stood ready on its stand. Fay turned her back upon it +and went and looked over the edge of the big bath. It was a very big +bath, white and beautiful, with innumerable silvered handles that +produced sprays and showers and waves and all sorts of wonders. An +extravagance of Anthony's. + +"Will William come in, too?" she asked. + +"No; he'd make such a mess; but he'd love to see you. We'll all bathe +William some other time." + +More squeals from outside, varied by dolorous snores. + +"Let him in," said little Fay. "I'll show him me." + +Quick as thought Meg lifted her in, opened the door to the delighted +William, who promptly stood on his hind legs, with his front paws on the +bath, and looked over the edge at little Fay. + +"See me swim," she exclaimed proudly, sitting down in the water, while +William, with his tongue hanging out and a fond smile of admiration on +his foolish countenance, tried to lick the plump pink shoulders +presented to his view. "This is a muts nicer baff than the nasty little +one. I can't think what you bringed it for, deah Med." + +"Deah Med" and Tony nodded gaily to one another. + +Hannah had made William sleep in the scullery, which he detested. She +put his basket there and his blanket, and he was warm enough, but +creature comforts matter little to the right kind of dog. It's human +fellowship he craves. That night she came to fetch him at bed-time, and +he refused point-blank to go. He put his head on Meg's knee and gazed at +her with beseeching eyes that said as plainly as possible: "Don't banish +me--where you go I go--don't break my heart and send me away into the +cold." + +Perhaps the cigarette smoke that hung about Meg gave him confidence. His +master smelt like that. And William went to bed with his master. + +"D'you think he might sleep in the dressing-room?" Meg asked. "I know +how young dogs hate to be alone at night. Put his basket there, +Hannah--I'll let him out and see to him, and you could get him first +thing in the morning." + +Hannah gave a sniff of disapproval, but she was always very careful to +do whatever Meg asked her at once and ungrudgingly. It was partly an +expression of her extreme disapproval of the uniform. But Meg thought it +was prompted entirely by Hannah's fine feeling, and loved her dearly in +consequence. + +Nearly all the bedrooms at Wren's End had dressing-rooms. Tony slept in +Jan's, with the door between left open. Fay's little cot was drawn up +close to Meg's bed. William and his basket occupied the dressing-room, +and here, also, the door was left open. + +While Meg undressed, William was quite still and quiet, but when she +knelt down to say her prayers he was overcome with curiosity, and, +getting out of his basket, lurched over to her to see what she was +about. Could she be crying that she covered her face? William couldn't +bear people to cry. + +He thrust his head under her elbow. She put her arm round his neck and +he sat perfectly still. + +"Pray for your master, William," Meg whispered. + + * * * * * * * * + +"I like to look at it," said Tony. + +"Oh, London may be very gay, but it's nothing to the countryside," sang +Meg. + +"What nelse?" inquired little Fay, who could never be content with a +mere snatch of song. + +"Oh, there's heaps and heaps of nelse," Jan answered. "Come along, +chicks, we'll go and see everything. This is home, you know, where dear +Mummy wanted you to be." + +It was their first day at Wren's End, and the weather was kind. They +were all four in the drive, looking back at the comfortable +stone-fronted Georgian house. The sun was shining, a cheerful April sun +that had little warmth in it but much tender light; and this showed how +all around the hedges were getting green; that buds were bursting from +brown twigs, as if the kind spring had covered the bare trees with a +thin green veil; and that all sorts of green spears were thrusting up in +the garden beds. + +Down the drive they all four ran, accompanied by a joyfully galumphing +William, who was in such good spirits that he occasionally gave vent to +a solemn deep-chested bark. + +When they came to the squat grey lodge, there was Mrs. Earley standing +in her doorway to welcome them. Mrs. Earley was Earley's mother, and +Earley was gardener and general factotum at Wren's End. Mrs. Earley +looked after the chickens, and when she had exchanged the news with Jan, +and rather tearfully admired "poor Mrs. Tancred's little 'uns," she +escorted them all to the orchard to see the cocks and hens and chickens. +Then they visited the stable, where Placid, the pony, was sole occupant. +In former years Placid had been kept for the girls to drive in the +governess-cart and to pull the heavy lawn-mower over the lawns. And +Hannah had been wont to drive him into Amesberrow every Sunday, that she +might attend the Presbyterian church there. She put him up at a +livery-stable near her church and always paid for him herself. Anthony +Ross usually had hired a motor for the summer months. Now they would +depend entirely on Placid and a couple of bicycles for getting about. +All round the walled garden did they go, and Meg played horses with the +children up and down the broad paths while Jan discussed vegetables with +Earley. And last of all they went to the back door to ask Hannah for +milk and scones, for the keen, fresh air had made them all hungry. + +Refreshed and very crumby, they were starting out again when Hannah laid +a detaining hand on Jan's arm: "Could you speak a minute, Miss Jan?" + +The children and Meg gone, Hannah led the way into the kitchen with an +air of great mystery; but she did not shut the doors, as Anne Chitt was +busy upstairs. + +"What is it, Hannah?" Jan asked nervously, for she saw that this +summons portended something serious. + +"It's about Miss Morton I want to speak, Miss Jan. I was in hopes she'd +never wear they play-acting claes down here ..." (when Hannah was deeply +earnest she always became very Scotch), "but it seems I hoped in vain. +And what am I to say to ither folk when they ask me about her?" + +"What is there to say, Hannah, except that she is my dear friend, and by +her own wish is acting as nurse to my sister's children?" + +"I ken that; I'm no sayin' a word against that; but first of all she +goes and crops her hair--fine hair she had too, though an awfu-like +colour--and not content with flying in the face of Providence that way, +she must needs dress like a servant. And no a weiss-like servant, +either, but one o' they besoms ye see on the hoardings in London wha act +in plays. Haven't I seen the pictures mysel'? 'The Quaker Gerrl,' or +some such buddy." + +"Oh, I assure you, Hannah, Miss Morton in no way resembles those ladies, +and I can't see that it's any business of ours what she wears. You know +that she certainly does what she has undertaken to do in the best way +possible." + +"I'm no saying a word against her wi' the children, and there never was +a young lady who gave less trouble, save in the way o' tobacco ash, and +was more ready to help--but yon haverals is very difficult to explain. +_You_ may understand, Miss Jan. I may _say_ I understand--though I +don't--but who's to make the like o' that Anne Chitt understand? Only +this morning she keeps on at me wi' her questions like the clapper o' a +bell. 'Is she a servant? If she's no, why does she wear servants' claes? +Why does she have hair like a boy? Has she had a fever or something +wrong wi' her heid? Is she one of they suffragette buddies and been in +prison?'--till I was fair deeved and bade the lassie hold her tongue. +But so it will be wherever Miss Morton goes in they fantastic claes. +Now, Miss Jan, tell me the honest truth--did you ever see a +self-respecting, respectable servant in the like o' yon? Does she _look_ +like any servant you've ever heard tell of out of a stage-play?" + +"Not a bit, Hannah; she looks exactly like herself, and therefore not in +the least like any other person. Don't you worry. Miss Morton requires +no explanation. All we must do is to see that she doesn't overwork +herself." + +"Then ye'll no speak to her, Miss Jan?" + +"Not I, Hannah. Why should I dictate to her as to what she wears? She +doesn't dictate to me." + +This was not strictly true, for Meg was most interfering in the matter +of Jan's clothes. Hannah shook her head. "I thocht it my duty to speak, +Miss Jan, and I'll say no more. But it's sheer defiance o' her Maker to +crop her heid and to clothe herself in whim-whams, when she could be +dressed like a lady; and I'm real vexed she should make such an object +of herself when she might just be quite unnoticeable, sae wee and +shelpit as she is." + +"I'm afraid," said Jan, "that Miss Morton will never be quite +unnoticeable, whatever she may wear. But don't let us talk about it any +more. You understand, don't you, Hannah?" + +When Jan's voice took that tone Hannah knew that further argument was +unavailing. + +Jan turned to go, and saw Tony waiting for her in the open doorway. +Neither of them had either heard or seen him come. + +Quite silently he took her hand and did not speak till they were well +away from the house. Meg and little Fay were nowhere in sight. Jan +wondered how much he had heard. + +"She's a very proud cook, isn't she?" he said presently. + +"She's a very old servant," Jan explained, "who has known me all my +life." + +"If," said Tony, as though after deep thought, "she gets very +chubbelsome, you send for me. Then I will go to her and say '_Jao!_'" +Tony followed this up by some fluent Hindustani which, had Jan but known +it, seriously reflected on the character of Hannah's female ancestry. +"I'll say '_Jao!_'," he went on. "I'll say it several times very loud, +and point to the door. Then she'll roll up her bedding, and you'll give +her money and her chits, and she will depart." + +They had reached a seat. On this Jan sank, for the vision of Tony +pointing majestically down the drive while little Hannah staggered into +the distance under a rolled-up mattress, was too much for her. + +"But I don't want her to go," she gasped. "I love her dearly." + +"She should not speak to you like that; she scolded you," he said +firmly. "She is a servant ... She _is_ a servant?" he added doubtfully. + +"How much did you hear of what she said? Did you understand?" + +"I came back directly to fetch you, I thought she _sounded_ cross. Mummy +was afraid when people were cross; she liked me to be with her. I +thought you would like me to be with you. If she was very rude I could +beat her. I beat the boy--not Peter's boy, our boy--he was rude to +Mummy. He did not dare to touch me because I am a sahib ... I will beat +Hannah if you like." + +Tony stood in front of Jan, very earnest, with an exceedingly pink nose, +for the wind was keen. He had never before said so much at one time. + +"Shall I go back and beat her?" he asked again. + +"Certainly not," Jan cried, clutching Tony lest he should fly off there +and then. "We don't _do_ such things here at home. Nobody is beaten, +ever. I'm sure Peter never beats his servants." + +"No," Tony allowed. "A big sahib must not strike a servant, but I can, +and I do if they are rude. She was rude about Meg." + +"She didn't mean to be rude." + +"She found fault with her clothes and her hair. She is a very proud and +impudent cook." + +"Tony dear, you really don't understand. She wasn't a bit rude. She was +afraid other people might mistake Meg for a servant. She was all _for_ +Meg--truly she was." + +"She scolded you," he rejoined obstinately. + +"Not really, Tony; she didn't mean to scold." + +Tony looked very hard at Jan. + +In silence they stared at one another for quite a minute. Jan got up off +the seat. + +"Let's go and find the others," she said. + +"She is a very proud cook," Tony remarked once more. + +Jan sighed. + + * * * * * + +That night while she was getting ready for bed Tony woke up. His cot was +placed so that he could see into Jan's room, and the door between was +always left open. She was standing before the dressing-table, taking +down her hair. + +Unlike the bedrooms at the flat, the room was not cold though both the +windows were open. Wren's End was never cold, though always fresh, for +one of Anthony's earliest improvements had been a boiler-house and +central heating, with radiators set under the windows, so that they +could always stand open. + +Jan had not put on her dressing-gown, and her night-dress had rather +short, loose sleeves that fell back from her arms as she raised them. + +He watched the white arm wielding the brush with great pleasure; he +decided he liked to look at it. + +"Auntie Jan!" + +She turned and flung her hair back from her face in a great silver +cloud. + +"You awake, sonny! Did I make a noise?" + +"No, I just woke. Auntie Jan, will Daddie ever come here?" + +"I expect so." + +"Well, listen. If he does, he shan't take your things, your pretty +twinkly things. I won't let him." + +Jan stood as if turned to stone. + +"He took Mummy's. I saw him; I couldn't stop him, I was so little. But +she _said_--she said it twice before she went away from that last +bungalow--she said: 'Take care of Auntie Jan, Tony; don't let Daddie +take her things.' So I won't." + +Tony was sitting up. His room was all in darkness; two candles were lit +on Jan's dressing-table. He could see her, but she couldn't see him. + +She came to him, stooped over him, and laid her cheek against his so +that they were both veiled with her hair. "Darling, I don't think poor +Daddie would want to take my things. You must try not to think hardly of +Daddie." + +Tony parted the veil of hair with a gentle hand so that they could both +see the candles. + +"You don't know my Daddie ... much," he said, "do you?" + +Jan shuddered. + +"I saw him," he went on in his queer little unemotional voice. "I saw +him take all her pretty twinkly things; and her silver boxes. I'm glad I +sleep here." + +"Did she mind much?" Jan whispered. + +"I don't know. She didn't see him take them, only me. She hadn't come to +bed. She never said nothing to me--only about you." + +"I don't expect," Jan made a great effort to speak naturally, "that +Daddie would care about my things ... It's different, you see." + +"I'm glad I sleep here," Tony repeated, "and there's William only just +across the passage." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +"THE BLUDGEONINGS OF CHANCE" + + +They had been at Wren's End nearly three weeks, and sometimes Jan +wondered if she appeared to Tony as unlike her own conception of herself +as Tony's of his father was unlike what she had pictured him. + +She knew Hugo Tancred to be dishonest, shifty, and wholly devoid of a +sense of honour, but she had up till quite lately always thought of him +as possessing a lazy sort of good-nature. + +Tony was changing this view. + +He was not yet at all talkative, but every now and then when he was +alone with her he became frank and communicative, as reserved people +often will when suddenly they let themselves go. And his very simplicity +gave force to his revelations. + +During their last year together in India it was evident that downright +antagonism had existed between Hugo Tancred and his little son. Tony had +weighed his father and found him wanting; and it was clear that he had +tried to insert his small personality as a buffer between his father and +mother. + +Jan talked constantly to the children of their mother. Her portraits, +Anthony's paintings and sketches, were all over the house, in every +variety of happy pose. One of the best was hung at the foot of Tony's +cot. The gentle blue eyes seemed to follow him in wistful benediction, +and alone in bed at night he often thought of her, and of his home in +India. It was, then, quite natural that he should talk of them to this +Auntie Jan who had evidently loved his mother well; and from Tony Jan +learned a good deal more about her brother-in-law than she had ever +heard from his wife. + +Tony loved to potter about with his aunt in the garden. She worked +really hard, for there was much to do, and he tried his best to assist, +often being a very great hindrance; but she never sent him away, for she +desired above all things to gain his confidence. + +One day after a hard half-hour's weeding, when Tony had wasted much time +by pulling up several sorts of the wrong thing, Jan felt her temper +getting edgy, so they sat down to rest upon one of the many convenient +seats to be found at Wren's End. Anthony hated a garden where you +couldn't sit comfortably and smoke, wheresoever the prospect was +pleasing. + +Tony sat down too, looking almost rosy after his labours. + +He didn't sit close and cuddly, as little Fay would have done, but right +at the other end of the seat, where he could stare at her. Every day was +bringing Tony more surely to the conclusion that "he liked to look at" +his aunt. + +"You like Meg, don't you?" he said. + +"No," Jan shook her head. "I don't like her. I love her; which is quite +a different thing." + +"Do you like people and love them?" + +"I like some people--a great many people--then there are others, not so +many, that I love--you're one of them." + +"Is Fay?" + +"Certainly, dear little Fay." + +"And Peter?" + +For a moment Jan hesitated. With heightened colour she met Tony's grave, +searching eyes. Above everything she desired to be always true and +sincere with him, that he might, as on that first night in England, feel +that he "believed" her. "I have every reason to love Mr. Ledgard," she +said slowly: "he was so wonderfully kind to all of us." She was +determined to be loyal to Peter with poor Fay's children. Jan hated +ingratitude. To have said she only liked Peter must have given Tony the +impression that she was both forgetful and ungrateful. She would not +risk that even though she might risk misunderstanding of another kind if +he ever repeated her words to anybody else. + +Her heart beat rather faster than was comfortable, and she was thankful +that she and Tony were alone. + +"Who _do_ you like?" he asked. + +"Nearly everybody; the people in the village, our good neighbours ... +Can't you see the difference yourself? Now, you love your dear Mummy and +you like ... say, William----" + +"No," Tony said firmly, "I love William. I don't think," he went on, "I +like people ... much. Either I love them like you said, or I don't care +about them at all ... or I hate them." + +"That," said Jan, "is a mistake. It's no use to hate people." + +"But if you feel like it ... I hate people if they cheat me." + +"But who on earth would cheat you? What do you mean?" + +"Once," said Tony, and by the monotonous, detached tone of his voice Jan +knew he was going to talk about his father, "my Daddie asked me if I'd +like to see smoke come out of his ears ... an' he said: 'Put your hand +here on me and watch very careful.'" Tony pointed to Jan's chest. "I put +my hand there and I watched and watched an' he hurt me with the end of +his cigar. There's the mark!" He held out a grubby little hand, back +uppermost, for Jan's inspection, and there, sure enough, was the little +round white scar. + +"And what did you do?" she asked. + +"I bit him." + +"Oh, Tony, how dreadful!" + +"I shouldn't of minded so much if he'd really done it--the smoke out of +his ears, I mean; but not one teeniest little puff came. I watched so +careful ... He cheated me." + +Jan said nothing. What could she say? Hot anger burned in her heart +against Hugo. She could have bitten him herself. + +"Peter was there," Tony went on, "and Peter said it served him right." + +"Yes," said Jan, grasping at this straw, "but what did Peter say to +you?" + +"He said, 'Sahibs don't cry and sahibs don't bite,' and if I was a sahib +I mustn't do it, so I don't. I don't bite people often." + +"I should hope not; besides, you know, sometimes quite good-natured +people will do things in fun, never thinking it will hurt." + +Tony gazed gloomily at Jan. "He cheated me," he repeated. "He said he +would make it come out of his ears, and it didn't. He didn't like +me--that's why." + +"I don't think you ought to say that, and be so unforgiving. I expect +Daddie forgot all about your biting him directly, and yet you remember +what he did after this long time." + +Poor Jan did try so hard to be fair. + +"I wasn't afraid of him," Tony went on, as though he hadn't heard, "not +really. Mummy was. She was drefully afraid. He said he'd whip me because +I was so surly, and she was afraid he would ... I _knew_ he wouldn't, +not unless he could do it some cheaty way, and you can't whip people +that way. But it frightened Mummy. She used to send me away when he +came...." + +Tony paused and knitted his brows, then suddenly he smiled. "But I +always came back very quick, because I knew she wanted me, and I liked +to look at him. He liked Fay, I suppose he liked to look at her, so do +I. Nobody wants to look at me ... much ... except Mummy." + +"I do," Jan said hastily. "I like to look at you just every bit as much +as I like to look at Fay. I think you care rather too much what people +look like, Tony." + +"It does matter a lot," Tony said obstinately. + +"Other things matter much more. Courage and kindness and truth and +honesty. Look at Mr. Ledgard--he's not what you'd call a beautiful +person, and yet I'm sure we all like to look at him." + +"Sometimes you say Peter, and sometimes Mr. Ledgard. Why?" + +Again Jan's heart gave that queer, uncomfortable jump. She certainly +always _thought_ of him as Peter. Quite unconsciously she occasionally +spoke of him as Peter. Meg had observed this, but, unlike Tony, made no +remark. + +"Why?" Tony repeated. + +"I suppose," Jan mumbled feebly, "it's because I hear the rest of you do +it. I've no sort of right to." + +"Auntie Jan," Tony said earnestly. "What is a devil?" + +"I haven't the remotest idea, Tony," Jan replied, with the utmost +sincerity. + +"It isn't anything very nice, is it, or nice to look at?" + +"It might be," said Jan, with Scottish caution. + +"Daddie used to call me a surly little devil--when I used to come back +because Mummy was frightened ... she was always frightened when he +talked about money, and he did it a lot ... When he saw me, he would +say: 'Wot you doing here, you surly little devil--listening, eh?'" +Tony's youthful voice took on such a snarl that Jan positively jumped, +and put out her hand to stop him. "'I'll give you somefin to listen +to....'" + +"Tony, Tony, couldn't you try to forget all that?" + +Tony shook his head. "No! I shall never forget it, because, you see, +it's all mixed up with Mummy so, and you said"--here Tony held up an +accusing small finger at Jan--"you said I was never to forget her, not +the least little bit." + +"I know I did," Jan owned, and fell to pondering what was best to be +done about these memories. Absently she dug her hoe into the ground, +making ruts in the gravel, while Tony watched her solemnly. + +"Then why," he went on, "do you not want me to remember Daddie?" + +"Because," said Jan, "everything you seem to remember sounds so unkind." + +"Well, I can't help that," Tony answered. + +Jan arose from the seat. "If we sit idling here all afternoon," she +remarked severely, "we shall never get that border weeded for Earley." + +The afternoon post came in at four, and when Jan went in there were +several letters for her on the hall-table, spread out by Hannah in a +neat row, one above the other. It was Saturday, and the Indian mail was +in. There was one from Peter, but it was another letter that Jan seized +first, turning it over and looking at the post-mark, which was +remarkably clear. She knew the excellent handwriting well, though she +had seen it comparatively seldom. + +It was Hugo Tancred's; and the post-mark was Port Said. She opened it +with hands that trembled, and it said: + + "MY DEAR JAN, + + "In case other letters have miscarried, which is quite + possible while I was up country, let me assure you how + grateful I am for all you did for my poor wife and the + children--and for me in letting me know so faithfully what + your movements have been. I sent to the bank for your + letters while passing through Bombay recently, and but for + your kindness in allowing the money I had left for my + wife's use to remain to my credit, I should have been + unable to leave India, for things have gone sadly against + me, and the world is only too ready to turn its back upon a + broken man. + + "When I saw by the notice in the papers that my beloved + wife was no more, I realised that for me the lamp is + shattered and the light of my life extinguished. All that + remains to me is to make the best of my poor remnant of + existence for the sake of my children. + + "We will talk over plans when we meet. I hope to be in + England in about another month, perhaps sooner, and we will + consult together as to what is best to be done. + + "I have no doubt it will be possible to find a good and + cheap preparatory school where Tony can be safely bestowed + for the present, and one of my sisters would probably take + my precious little Fay, if you find it inconvenient to have + her with you. A boy is always better at school as soon as + possible, and I have strong views as to the best methods of + education. I never for a moment forget my responsibilities + towards my children and the necessity for a father's + supreme authority. + + "You may be sure that, in so far as you make it possible + for me to do so, I will fall in with your wishes regarding + them in every way. + + "It will not be worth your while writing to me here, as my + plans are uncertain. I will try to give you notice of my + arrival, but may reach you before my next letter. + + "Yours affectionately, + + "HUGO TANCRED." + +Still as a statue sat Jan. From the garden came the cheerful chirruping +of birds and constant, eager questioning of Earley by the children. +Earley's slow Gloucestershire speech rumbled on in muffled _obbligato_ +to the higher, carrying, little voices. + +The whirr of a sewing-machine came from the morning-room, now the +day-nursery, where Meg was busy with frocks for little Fay. + +In a distant pantry somebody was clinking teacups. Jan shivered, though +the air from the open window was only fresh, not cold. At that moment +she knew exactly how an animal feels when caught in a trap. Hugo +Tancred's letter was the trap, and she was in it. With the exception of +the lie about other letters--Jan was perfectly sure he had written no +other letters--and the stereotyped phrases about shattered lamps and the +wife who was "no more," the letter was one long menace--scarcely veiled. +That sentence, "in so far as you make it possible for me to do so, I +will fall in with your wishes regarding them in every way," simply meant +that if Jan was to keep the children she must let Hugo make ducks and +drakes of her money; and if he took her money, how could she do what she +ought for the children? + +And he was at Port Said; only a week's journey. + +Why had she left that money in Bombay? Why had she not listened to +Peter? Sometimes she had thought that Peter held rather a cynically low +view of his fellow-creatures--some of his fellow-creatures. Surely no +one could be all bad? Jan had hoped great things of adversity for Hugo +Tancred. Peter indulged in no such pleasant illusions, and said so. +"Schoolgirl sentimentality" Meg had called it, and so it was. "No doubt +it will be possible to find some cheap preparatory school for Tony." + +Would he try to steal Tony? + +From the charitable mood that hopeth all things Jan suddenly veered to a +belief in all things evil of her brother-in-law. At that moment she felt +him capable of murdering the child and throwing his little body down a +well, as they do in India. + +Again she shivered. + +What was she to do? + +So helpless, so unprotected; so absolutely at his mercy because she +loved the children. "Never let him blackmail you," Peter had said. +"Stand up to him always, and he'll probably crumple up." + +Suddenly, as though someone had opened shutters in a pitch-dark room, +letting in the blessed light, Jan remembered there was also a letter +from Peter. + +She crossed the hall to get it, though her legs shook under her and her +knees were as water. + +She felt she couldn't get back to the window-seat, so she sat on the +edge of the gate-table and opened the letter. + +A very short letter, only one side of a page. + + "DEAR MISS ROSS, + + "This is the last mail for a bit, for I come myself by the + next, the _Macedonia_. You may catch me at Aden, but + certainly a note will get me at Marseilles, if you are kind + enough to write. Tancred has been back in Bombay and gone + again in one of the smaller home-going boats. Where he got + the money to go I can't think, for from many sources lately + I've heard that his various ventures have been far from + prosperous, and no one will trust him with a rupee. + + "So look out for blackmail, and be firm, mind. + + "I go to my aunt in Artillery Mansions on arrival. When may + I run down to see you all? + + "Yours always sincerely, + + "PETER LEDGARD." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +"THOUGH AN HOST SHOULD ENCAMP AGAINST ME" + + +The flap of the gate-leg table creaked under Jan's weight, but she dug +her heels into the rug and balanced, for she felt incapable of moving. + +Peter was coming home; if the worst came to the worst he would deal with +Hugo, and a respite would be gained. But Peter would go out to India +again and Hugo would not. The whole miserable business would be +repeated--and how could she continue to worry Peter with her affairs? +What claim had she upon him? As though she were some stranger seeing it +for the first time, Jan looked round the square, comfortable hall. She +saw it with new eyes sharpened by apprehension; yet everything was +solidly the same. + +The floor with its draught-board pattern of large, square, black and +white stones; the old dark chairs; the high bookcases at each side of +the hearth; the wide staircase with its spacious, windowed turning and +shallow steps, so easily traversed by little feet; the whole steeped in +that atmosphere of friendly comfort that kind old houses get and keep. + +Such a good place to be young in. + +Such a happy place, so safe and sheltered and pleasant. + +Outside the window a wren was calling to his mate with a note that +sounded just like a faint kiss; such a tender little song. + +The swing door was opened noisily and Anne Chitt appeared bearing the +nursery tea-tray, deposited it in the nursery, opened the front door, +thumped on the gong and vanished again. Meg came out from the nursery +with two pairs of small slippers in her hand: "Where are my children? I +left little Fay with Earley while I finished the overalls; he's a most +efficient under-nurse--I suppose you left Tony with him too. Such a lot +of letters for you. Did you get your mail? I heard from both the boys. +Ah, sensible Earley's taking them round to the back door. Where's +William's duster? Hannah does make such a fuss about paw-marks." And +Meg, too, vanished through the swing door. + +Slowly Jan dragged herself off the table, gathered up her unread +letters, and went into the nursery. She felt as though she were +dreadfully asleep and couldn't awake to realise the wholesome everyday +world around her. + +Vaguely she stared round the room, the most charming room in Wren's End. +Panelled in wood long since painted white, with two delightful rounded +corner cupboards, it gave straight on to the wrens' sunk lawn from a big +French window with steps, an anachronism added by Miss Janet Ross. Five +years ago Anthony had brought a beautiful iron gate from Venice that +fitted into the archway, cut through the yew hedge and leading to the +drive. Jan had given this room to the children because in summer they +could spend the whole day in its green-walled garden, quite safe and +shut in from every possibility of mischief. A sun-dial was in the +centre, and in one corner a fat stone cherub upheld a bath for the +birds. Daffodils were in bloom on the banks, and one small single tulip +of brilliant red. Jan went out and stood on the top step. + +Long immunity from menace of any kind had made all sorts of little birds +extraordinarily bold and friendly. Even the usually shy and furtive +golden-crested wrens fussed in and out under the yew hedge quite +regardless of Jan. + +Through an open window overhead came the sound of cheerful high voices, +and little Fay started to sing at the top of her strong treble: + + Thlee mice went into a hole to spin, + Puss came by, and puss peeped in; + What are you doing, my littoo old men? + We're weaving coats for gentoomen. + +"Is that what I've been doing?" thought Jan. "Weaving coats of many +colours out of happy dreams?" Were she and the children the mice, she +wondered. + +Marauding cats had been kept away from Wren's End for over a hundred +years. "The little wrens that build" had been safe enough. But what of +these poor human nestlings? + +"Shall I come and help loo to wind up loo thleds?" sang little Fay. "Oh, +no, Missis Pussy, you'd bite off our heads!" And Tony joined in with a +shout: "Oh, no, Missis Pussy, you'd bite off our heads." + +The voices died away, the children were coming downstairs. + +Jan drank three cups of tea and crumbled one piece of bread and butter +on her plate. The rest of the party were hungry and full of adventures. +Before she joined Earley little Fay had been to the village with Meg to +buy tape, and she had a great deal to say about this expedition. Meg saw +that something was troubling Jan, and wondered if Mr. Ledgard had given +her fresh news of Hugo. But Meg never asked questions or worried people. +She chattered to the children, and immediately after tea carried them +off for the usual washing of hands. + +Jan went out into the hall; the door was open and the sunny spring +evening called to her. When she was miserable she always wanted to walk, +and she walked now; swiftly down the drive she went and out along the +road till she came to the church, which stood at the end of the village +nearest to Wren's End. + +She turned into the churchyard, and up the broad pathway between the +graves to the west door. + +Near the door was a square headstone marking the grave of Charles +Considine Smith; and she paused beside it to read once more the somewhat +strange inscription. + +Under his name and age, cut deep in the moss-grown stone, were the +words: "_Though an host should encamp against me, my heart shall not +fear._" + +Often before Jan had wondered what could have caused Tranquil, his wife, +to choose so strenuous an epitaph. Tranquil, who had never stirred +twenty miles from the place where she was born; whose very name, so far +as they could gather, exemplified her life. + +What secret menace had threatened this "staid person," this prosperous +shipper of sherry who, apparently, had spent the evening of his life in +observing the habits of wrens. + +Why should his gentle wife have thus commemorated his fighting spirit? + +Be the reason what it might, Jan felt vaguely comforted. There was +triumph as well as trust in the words. Whatever it was that had +threatened him, he had stood up to it. His wife knew this and was proud. + +Jan tried the heavy oak door and it yielded, and from the soft mildness +of the spring evening, so full of happy sounds of innocent life, she +passed into the grey and sacred silence of the church. + +It was cold in the beautiful old fourteenth-century church, with that +pervading smell of badly-burning wood that is so often found in country +churches till all attempt at heating ceases for the summer. But nothing +could mar the nobility of its austerely lovely architecture; the +indefinable, exquisite grace that soothes and penetrates. + +She went and knelt in the Wren's End pew where Charles Considine Smith's +vast prayer-book still stood on the book-board. And even as in the +Bombay Cathedral she had prayed that strength might be given to her to +walk in the Way, so now she prayed for courage and a quiet, steadfast +mind. + +Her head was bowed and buried in her hands: "_My heart shall not +fear_," she whispered; but she knew that it did fear, and fear +grievously. + +The tense silence was broken by an odd, fitful, pattering sound; but +Jan, absorbed in her petition for the courage she could not feel, heard +nothing. + +Something clumsy, warm, and panting pushed against her, and she +uncovered her face and looked down upon William trying to thrust his +head under her arm and join in her devotions. + +And William became a misty blur, for her eyes filled with tears; he +looked so anxious and foolish and kind with his tongue hanging out and +his absurd, puzzled expression. + +He was puzzled. Part of the usual ritual had been omitted. + +She ought, by all known precedents, to have put her arm round his neck +and have admonished him to "pray for his Master." But she did nothing of +the kind, only patted him, with no sort of invitation to join in her +orisons. + +William was sure something was wrong somewhere. + +Then Jan saw Tony sitting at the far end of the seat, hatless, coatless, +in his indoor strap shoes; and he was regarding her with grave, +understanding eyes. + +In a moment she was back in the present and vividly alive to the fact +that here was chilly, delicate Tony out after tea, without a coat and +sitting in an ice-cold church. + +She rose from her knees, much to William's satisfaction, who did not +care for religious services in which he might not take an active part. +He trotted out of the pew and Jan followed him, stooping to kiss Tony as +she passed. + +"It's too cold for you here, dear," she whispered; "let us come out." + +She held out her hand and Tony took it, and together they passed down +the aisle and into the warmer air outside. + +"How did you know I was here?" she asked, as they hurried into the road. + +"I saw you going down the drive from the bathroom window, and so I +runned after you, and William came too." + +"But what made you come after me?" + +"Because I thought you looked frightened, and I didn't like it; you +looked like Mummy did sometimes." + +No one who has seen fear stamped upon a woman's face ever forgets it. +Tony had watched his aunt all tea-time, and this quite new expression +troubled him. Mummy had always seemed to want him when she looked like +that; perhaps Auntie Jan would want him too. The moment his hands were +dried he had rushed past Meg and down the stairs with William in his +wake. Meg had not tried to stop him, for she, too, realised that +something worried Jan, and she knew that already there had arisen an +almost unconscious _entente_ between these two. But she had no idea that +he had gone out of doors. She dressed little Fay and took her out to the +garden, thinking that Tony and Jan were probably in the nursery, and she +was careful not to disturb them. + +"Are you cold, Tony?" Jan asked anxiously, walking so fast that Tony +had almost to run to keep up with her. + +"No, not very; it's a nice coldness rather, don't you think?" + +"Tony, will you tell me--when Daddie was angry with you, were you never +frightened?" + +Tony pulled at her hand to make her go more slowly. "Yes," he said, "I +used to feel frightened inside, but I wouldn't let him know it, and +then--it was funny--but quite sunn'ly I wasn't frightened any more. You +try it." + +"You mean," Jan asked earnestly, "that if you don't let anyone else know +you are frightened, you cease to be frightened?" + +"Something like that," Tony said; "it just happens." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +MEG AND CAPTAIN MIDDLETON + + +Meg had worked hard and faithfully ever since Ayah left. Very soon after +she took over the children entirely she discovered that, however naughty +and tiresome they were in many respects, they were quick-witted and +easily interested. And she decided there and then that to keep them good +she must keep them well amused, and it acted like a charm. + +She had the somewhat rare power of surrounding quite ordinary everyday +proceedings with a halo of romance, so that the children's day developed +into a series of entrancing adventures. + +With Meg, enthusiastic make-believe had never wholly given place to +common sense. Throughout the long, hard days of her childhood and early +apprenticeship to a rather unkindly world she had pretended joyously, +and invented for herself all sorts of imaginary pleasures to take the +place of those tangible ones denied to her. She had kept the width and +wistfulness of the child's horizon with a good deal of the child's +finality and love of detail; so that she was as responsive to the drama +of common things as the children themselves. + +Thus it came about that the daily donning of the uniform was in very +truth symbolic and inspiring; and once the muslin cap was adjusted, she +felt herself magically surrounded by the atmosphere most conducive to +the production of the Perfect Nurse. + +For Tony and little Fay getting up and going to bed resolved themselves +into feats of delicious dexterity that custom could not stale. The +underneaths of tables were caves and dungeons, chairs became chariots at +will, and every night little Fay waved a diminutive pocket-handkerchief +to Tony from the deck of an ocean-going P. and O. + +The daily walks, especially since they came to Wren's End, were filled +with hopeful possibilities. And to hunt for eggs with Mrs. Earley, or +gather vegetables with her son, partook of the nature of a high and +solemn quest. It was here Meg showed real genius. She drew all the +household into her net of interest. The children poked their busy +fingers into everybody's pies, and even stern Hannah was compelled, +quite unconsciously, to contribute her share in the opulent happiness of +their little world. + +But it took it out of Meg. + +For weeks she had been on the alert to prevent storms and tempests. Now +that the children's barometer seemed at "set fair" she suddenly felt +very tired. + +Jan had been watching her, and on that particular Sunday, had she been +able to catch Meg before she got up, Jan would have dressed the children +and kept her in bed. But Meg was too nimble for her, washed and dressed +her charges, and appeared at breakfast looking a "wispy wraith." + +She had slept badly; a habit formed in her under-nourished youth which +she found hard to break; and she had, in consequence, been sitting up in +bed at five in the morning to make buttonholes in garden smocks for +Tony. + +This would have enraged Jan had she but known it. But Meg, frank and +honest as the day in most things, was, at times, curiously secretive; +and so far had entirely eluded Jan's vigilance. By the time Anne Chitt +came with the awakening tea there wasn't a vestige of smock, needles, or +cotton to be seen, and so far lynx-eyed little Fay had never awoke in +time to catch her at it. + +This morning, however, Jan exerted her authority. She slung the hammock +between two trees in the sunniest part of the garden; she wrapped Meg in +her own fur coat, which was far too big for Meg; covered her with a +particularly soft, warm rug, gave her a book, a sun-umbrella, and her +cigarette case; and forbade her to move till lunch-time unless it +rained. + +Then she took the two children and William into Squire Walcote's woods +for the morning and Meg fell fast asleep. + +Warm with the double glow that came from being wrapped in Jan's coat +because Jan loved her; lulled by the songs of birds and a soft, shy wind +that ruffled the short hair about her forehead, little Meg was supremely +happy. To be tired, to be made to rest, to be kissed and tucked in and +sternly commanded to stay where she was till she was fetched--all this, +so commonplace to cherished, cared-for folk, seemed quite wonderful to +Meg, and she snuggled down among the cushions in blissful content. + +Meanwhile, on that same Sunday morning, Captain Middleton, at Amber +Guiting Manor, was trying to screw his courage up to the announcement +that he did not intend to accompany his aunt and uncle to church. Lady +Mary Walcote was his mother's only sister, and Mrs. Walcote, wife of +Jan's tenant, was one of his father's, so that he spoke quite truly when +he told Meg he had "stacks of relations down at Amber Guiting." + +Colonel Walcote was much better off than his elder brother, the squire +of Amber Guiting, for he benefited by the Middleton money. + +Miles Middleton's father was the originator of "Middleton's Made +Starch," which was used everywhere and was supposed to be superior to +all other starches. Why "Made" scoffers could never understand, for it +required precisely the same treatment as other starches. But the British +Public believed in it, the British Public also bought it in large +quantities, and George Middleton, son of Mutton-Pie Middleton, a +well-to-do confectioner in Doncaster, became an exceedingly rich man. He +did not marry till he was forty, and then he married "family," for Lady +Agnes Keills, younger daughter of Lord Glencarse, had a long pedigree +and no dower at all. She was a good wife to him, gentle, upright, and +always affectionate. She adored their only child, Miles, and died quite +suddenly from heart failure, just after that cheerful youth had joined +at Woolwich. George Middleton died some three years later, leaving his +money absolutely to his son, who came of age at twenty-five. And, so +far, Miles had justified his father's faith in him, for he had never +done anything very foolish, and a certain strain of Yorkshire shrewdness +prevented him from committing any wild extravagance. + +He was generous, kindly, and keen on his profession, and he had reached +the age of thirty-two without ever having felt any overwhelming desire +to marry; though it was pretty well known that considerable efforts to +marry him suitably had been made by both mothers and daughters. + +The beautiful and level-headed young ladies of musical comedy had failed +to land this considerable fish, angled they never so skilfully; though +he frankly enjoyed their amusing society and was quite liberal, though +not lavish, in the way of presents. + +Young women of his own rank were pleasant to him, their mothers cordial, +and no difficulty was ever put in the way of his enjoying their society. +But he was not very susceptible. Deep in his heart, in some dim, +unacknowledged corner, there lay a humble, homely desire that he might +_feel_ a great deal more strongly than he had felt yet, when the time +and the woman came to him. + +Never, until Meg smiled at him when he offered to carry little Fay up +that long staircase, had the thought of a girl thoroughly obsessed him; +and it is possible that even after their meetings in Kensington Gardens +her image might gradually have faded from his mind, had it not occurred +to Mrs. Trent to interfere. + +He had seen a good deal of the Trents while hunting with the Pytchley +two winters ago. Lotty was a fearless rider and what men called "a real +good sort." At one time it had sometimes crossed Captain Middleton's +mind that Lotty wouldn't make half a bad wife for a Horse Gunner, but +somehow it had always stopped at the idea, and when he didn't see Lotty +he never thought about her at all. + +Now that he no longer saw Meg he thought about her all day and far into +the night. His sensations were so new, so disturbing and unpleasant, his +life was so disorganised and upset, that he asked himself in varying +degrees of ever-accumulating irritation: "What the deuce was the +matter?" + +Then Mrs. Trent asked him to luncheon. + +She was staying with her daughters at the Kensington Palace Hotel, and +they had a suite of rooms. Lotty and her sister flew away before coffee +was served, as they were going to a _matinee_, and Miles was left +_tete-a-tete_ with Mrs. Trent. + +She was most motherly and kind. + +Just as he was wondering whether he might now decently take leave of +her, she said: "Captain Middleton, I'm going to take a great liberty and +venture to say something to you that perhaps you will resent ... but I +feel I must do it because your mother was such a dear friend of mine." + +This was a piece of information for Miles, who knew perfectly well that +Lady Agnes Middleton's acquaintance with Mrs. Trent had been of the +slightest. However, he bowed and looked expectant. + +"I saw you the other day walking with Miss Morton in Kensington Gardens; +apparently she is now in charge of somebody's children. May I ask if you +have known her long?" + +Mrs. Trent looked searchingly at Miles, and there was an inflection on +the "long" that he felt was in some way insulting to Meg, and he +stiffened all over. + +"Before I answer that question, Mrs. Trent, may I ask why you should +want to know?" + +"My dear boy, I see perfectly well that it must seem impertinent +curiosity on my part. But I assure you my motive for asking is quite +justifiable. Will you try not to feel irritated and believe that what I +am doing, I am doing for the best?" + +"I have not known Miss Morton very long; why?" + +"Do you know the people she is living with at present?" + +Again that curious inflection on the "present." + +"Oh, yes, and so do my people; they think all the world of her." + +"Of Miss Morton?" Shocked astonishment was in Mrs. Trent's voice. + +"I was not speaking of Miss Morton just then, but of the lady she is +with. I've no doubt, though," said Miles stoutly, "they'd think just +the same of Miss Morton if they knew her. They may know her, too; it's +just a chance we've never discussed her." + +"It is very difficult and painful for me to say what I have got to say +... but if Miss Morton is in charge of the children of a friend of your +family, I think you ought to know she is not a suitable person to be +anything of the kind." + +"I say!" Miles exclaimed, "that's a pretty stiff thing to say about any +girl; a dangerous thing to say; especially about one who seems to need +to earn her own living." + +"I know it is; I hate to say it ... but it seemed to me the other day--I +hope I was mistaken--that you were rather ... attracted, and knowing +what I do I felt I must speak, must warn you." + +Miles got up. He seemed to tower above the table and dwarf the whole +room. "I'd rather not hear any more, Mrs. Trent, please. It seems too +beastly mean somehow for me to sit here and listen to scandal about a +poor little unprotected girl who works hard and faithfully--mind you, +I've seen her with those children, and she's perfectly wonderful. Don't +you see yourself how I can't _do_ it?" + +Mrs. Trent sat on where she was and smiled at Miles, slowly shaking her +head. "Sit down, my dear boy. Your feelings do you credit; but we +mustn't be sentimental, and facts are facts. I have every reason to know +what I'm talking about, for some years ago Miss Morton was in my +service." + +Miles did not sit down. He stood where he was, glowering down at Mrs. +Trent. + +"That doesn't brand her, does it?" he asked. + +Still smiling maternally at him, Mrs. Trent continued: "She left my +service when she ran away with Mr. Walter Brooke--you know him, I think? +Disgraceful though it was, I must say this of him, that he never made +any concealment of the fact that he was a married man. She did it with +her eyes open." + +"If," Miles growled, "all this happened 'some years ago' she must have +been about twelve at the time, and Brooke ought to have been hounded out +of society long ago." + +"I needn't say that _we_ have cut him ever since. She was, I believe, +about nineteen at the time. She did not remain with him, but you can +understand that, naturally, I don't want _you_ to get entangled with a +girl of that sort." + +Miles picked up his hat and stick. "I wish you hadn't told me," he +groaned. "I don't think a bit less highly of her, but you've made _me_ +feel such a low-down brute, I can't bear it. Good-bye--I've no doubt you +did it for the best ... but----" And Miles fairly ran from the room. + +Mrs. Trent drummed with her fingers on the table and looked thoughtful. +"It was quite time somebody interfered," she reflected. And then she +remembered with annoyance that she had not found out the name of Meg's +employer. + +Miles strode through Kensington Gore and past Knightsbridge, when he +turned down Sloane Street till he came to a fencing school he +frequented. Here he went in and had a strenuous half-hour with the +instructor, but nothing served to restore his peace of mind. He was +angry and hurt and horribly worried. If it was true, if the whole +miserable story was true, then he knew that something had been taken +from him. Something he had cherished in that dim, secret corner of his +heart. Its truth or untruth did not affect his feeling for Meg. But if +it were true, then he had irretrievably lost something intangible, yet +precious. Young men like Miles never mention ideals, but that's not to +say that in some very hidden place they don't exist, like buried +treasure. + +All the shrewd Yorkshire strain in him shouted that he must set this +doubt at rest. That whatever was to be his action in the future he must +know and face the truth. All the delicacy, the fine feeling, the +sensitiveness he got from his mother, made him loathe any investigation +of the kind, and his racial instincts battled together and made him very +miserable indeed. + +When he left the fencing school, he turned into Hyde Park. The Row was +beginning to fill, and suddenly he came upon his second cousin, Lady +Penelope Pottinger, sitting all alone on a green chair with another +empty one beside it. Miles dropped into the empty chair. He liked Lady +Pen. She was always downright and sometimes very amusing. Moreover she +took an intelligent interest in dogs, and knew Amber Guiting and its +inhabitants. So Miles dexterously led the conversation round to Jan and +Wren's End. + +Lady Pen was looking very beautiful that afternoon. She wore a +broad-leaved hat which did not wholly conceal her glorious hair. Hair +the same colour as certain short feathery rings that framed a pale, +pathetic little face that haunted him. + +"Talking of Amber Guiting," he said, "did you ever come across a Miss +Morton down there? A friend of Miss Ross." + +Lady Pen turned and looked hard at him. "Oh dear, yes; she's rather a +pal of mine. I knew her long before I met her at the Ross's. Why, I knew +her when she was companion at the Trents, poor little devil." + +"Did she have a bad time there? Weren't they nice to her?" + +"At first they were nice enough, but afterwards it was rotten. Clever +little thing she is, but poor as a rat. What do you know about her?" + +Again Lady Pen looked hard at Miles. She was wondering whether Meg had +ever given away the reason for that short hair of hers. + +"Oh, I've met her just casually, you know, with Miss Ross. She strikes +me as a ... rather unusual sort of girl." + +"Ever mention me?" + +"No, never that I can remember. I haven't seen much of her, you know." + +"Well, my son, the less you see of her the better, for her, I should +say. She's a clever, industrious, good little thing, but she's not in +your row. After all, these workin' girls have their feelin's." + +"I don't fancy Miss Morton is at all the susceptible idiot you appear +to think her. It's other people's feelings I should be afraid of, not +hers." + +"Oh, I grant you she's attractive enough to some folks. Artists, for +instance, rave over her. At least, Anthony Ross did. Queer chap, that; +would never paint me. Now can you understand any man in his senses +refusin' to paint me?" + +"It seems odd, certainly." + +"He painted her, for nothin' of course, over an' over again ... just +because he liked doin' it. Odd chap he was, but very takin'. You +couldn't dislike him, even when he refused to paint you. Awful swank +though, wasn't it?" + +"Were his pictures of Miss Morton--sold?" + +"Some were, I believe; but Janet Ross has got a lot of 'em down at +Wren's End. She always puts away most of her father's paintin's when she +lets the house. But you take my advice, Miley, my son: you keep clear of +that little girl." + +This was on Thursday, and, of course, after two warnings in one +afternoon, Miles went down to Amber Guiting on Saturday night. + +"Aunt Mary, it's such a lovely morning, should you mind very much if I +go for a stroll in the woods--or slack about in the fresh air, instead +of going to church?" + +At the word "stroll" he had seen an interested expression lighten up +Squire Walcote's face, and the last thing he wanted was his uncle's +society for the whole morning. + +"I don't feel up to much exercise," Miles went on, trying to look +exhausted and failing egregiously. "I've had rather a hard week in town. +I'll give the vicar a turn in the evening, I will truly." + +Lady Mary smiled indulgently on this large young man, who certainly +looked far from delicate. But only a hard-hearted woman could have +pointed this out at such a moment, and where her nephew was concerned +Lady Mary's heart was all kindly affection. So she let him off church. + +Miles carried out a pile of books to a seat in the garden and appeared +to be settled down to a studious morning. He waved a languid hand to his +aunt and uncle as they started for church, and the moment they were out +of sight laid down his book and clasped his hands behind his head. + +The vicar of Amber Guiting was a family man and merciful. The school +children all creaked and pattered out of church after morning prayer, +and any other small people in the congregation were encouraged to do +likewise, the well-filled vicarage pew setting the example. Therefore, +Miles reckoned, that even supposing Miss Morton took the little boy to +church (he couldn't conceive of anyone having the temerity to escort +little Fay thither), they would come out in about three-quarters of an +hour after the bell stopped. But he had no intention of waiting for +that. The moment the bell ceased he--unaccompanied by any of the dogs +grouped about him at that moment--was going to investigate the Wren's +End garden. He knew every corner of it, and he intended to unearth Meg +and the children if they were to be found. + +Besides, he ardently desired to see William. + +William was a lawful pretext. No one could see anything odd in his +calling at Wren's End to see William. It was a perfectly natural thing +to do. + +Confound Mrs. Trent. + +Confound Pen, what did she want to interfere for? + +Confound that bell. Would it never stop? + +Yes it had. No it hadn't. Yes ... it had. + +Give a few more minutes for laggards, and then---- + +Three melancholy and disappointed dogs were left in the Manor Garden, +while Miles swung down the drive, past the church, and into the road +that led to Wren's End. + +What a morning it was! + +The whole world seemed to have put on its Sunday frock. There had been +rain in the night, and the air was full of the delicious fresh-washed +smell of spring herbage. Wren's End seemed wonderfully quiet and +deserted as Miles turned into the drive. As he neared the house he +paused and listened, but there was no sound of high little voices +anywhere. + +Were they at church, then? + +They couldn't be indoors on such a beautiful day. + +Miles whistled softly, knowing that if William were anywhere within +hearing, that would bring him at the double. + +But no joyfully galumphing William appeared to welcome him. + +He had no intention of ringing to inquire. No, he'd take a good look +round first, before he went back to hang about outside the church. + +It was pleasant in the Wren's End garden. + +Presently he went down the broad central path of the walled garden, with +borders of flowers and beds of vegetables. Half-way down, in the +sunniest, warmest place, he came upon a hammock slung between an +apple-tree not quite out and a pear-tree that was nearly over, and a +voice from the hammock called sleepily: "Is that you, Earley? I wish +you'd pick up my cigarette case for me; it's fallen into the lavender +bush just below." + +"Yes, Miss," a voice answered that was certainly not Earley's. + +Meg leaned out of the hammock to look behind her. + +"Hullo!" she said. "Why are you not in church? I can't get up because +I'm a prisoner on _parole_. Short of a thunderstorm nothing is to move +me from this hammock till Miss Ross comes back." + +Miles stood in the pathway looking down at the muffled figure in the +hammock. There was little to be seen of Meg save her rumpled, hatless +head. She was much too economical of her precious caps to waste one in a +hammock. She had slept for nearly two hours, then Hannah roused her with +a cup of soup. She was drowsy and warm and comfortable, and her usually +pale cheeks were almost as pink as the apple-blossom buds above her +head. + +"Do you want to sleep? Or may I stop and talk to you a bit?" Miles +asked, when he had found the somewhat battered cigarette case and +restored it to her. + +"As I'm very plainly off duty, I suppose you may stay and talk--if I +fall asleep in the middle you must not be offended. You'll find plenty +of chairs in the tool house." + +When Miles returned Meg had lit her cigarette, and he begged a light +from her. + +What little hands she had! How fine-grained and delicate her skin! + +Again he felt that queer lump in his throat at the absurd, sweet pathos +of her. + +He placed his chair where he had her full in view, not too near, yet +comfortably so for conversation. Jan had swung the hammock very high, +and Meg looked down at Miles over the edge. + +"It is unusual," she said, "to find a competent nurse spending her +morning in this fashion, but if you know Miss Ross at all, you will +already have realised that under her placid exterior she has a will of +iron." + +"I shouldn't say _you_ were lacking in determination." + +"Oh, I'm nothing to Jan. _She_ exerts physical force. Look at me perched +up here! How can I get down without a bad fall, swathed like a mummy in +wraps; while my employer does my work?" + +"But you don't want to get down. You look awfully comfortable." + +"I am awfully comfortable--but it's most ... unprofessional--please +don't tell anybody else." + +Meg closed her eyes, looking rather like a sleepy kitten, and Miles +watched her in silence with a pain at his heart. Something kept saying +over and over again: "Six years ago that girl there ran off with Walter +Brooke. Six years ago that apparently level-headed, sensible little +person was dazzled by the pinchbeck graces of that epicure in +sensations." Miles fully granted his charm, his gentle melancholy, his +caressing manner; but with it all Miles felt that he was so plainly "a +wrong-'un," so clearly second-rate and untrustworthy--and a nice girl +ought to recognise these things intuitively. + +Miles looked very sad and grave, and Meg, suddenly opening her eyes, +found him regarding her with this incomprehensible expression. + +"You are not exactly talkative," she said. + +"I thought, perhaps, you wanted to rest, and would rather not talk. +Maybe I'm a bit of a bore, and you'd rather I went away?" + +"You have not yet asked after William." + +"I hoped to find William, but he's nowhere to be seen." + +"He's with Jan and the children. I think"--here Meg lifted her curly +head over the edge of the hammock--"he is the very darlingest animal in +the world. I love William." + +"You do! I knew you would." + +"I do. He's so faithful and kind and understanding." + +"Has he been quite good?" + +"Well ... once or twice he may have been a little--destructive--but you +expect that with children." + +"I hope you punish him." + +"Jan does. Jan has a most effectual slap, but there's always a dreadful +disturbance with the children on these occasions. Little Fay roars the +house down when William has to be chastised." + +"What has he done?" + +"I'm not going to tell tales of William." + +Miles and Meg smiled at one another, and Walter Brooke faded from his +mind. + +"Perhaps," he said, and paused, "you will by and by allow to William's +late master a small portion of that regard?" + +"If William's master on further acquaintance proves half as loyal and +trustworthy as William--I couldn't help it." + +"I wonder what you mean exactly by loyal and trustworthy?" + +"They're not very elastic terms, are they?" + +"Don't you think they mean rather the same thing?" + +"Not a bit," Meg cried eagerly; "a person might be ever so trustworthy +and yet not loyal. I take it that trustworthy and honest in tangible +things are much the same. Loyalty is something intangible, and often +means belief in people when everything seems against them. It's a much +rarer quality than to be trustworthy. William would stick to one if one +hadn't a crust, just because he liked to be there to make things a bit +less wretched." + +Miles smoked in silence for a minute, and again Meg closed her eyes. + +"By the way," he said presently, "I didn't know you and my cousin Pen +were friends. I met her in the Park the day before yesterday. Her hair's +rather the same colour as yours--handsome woman, isn't she?" + +Meg opened her eyes and turned crimson. Had the outspoken Lady Pen said +anything about her hair, she wondered. + +Miles, noting the sudden blush, put it down to Lady Pen's knowledge of +what had happened at the Trents, and the miserable feelings of doubt and +apprehension came surging back. + +"She's quite lovely," said Meg. + +"A bit too much on the big side, don't you think?" + +"I admire big women." + +Silence fell again. Meg pulled the rug up under her chin. + +Surely it was not quite so warm as a few minutes ago. + +Miles stood up. "I have a guilty feeling that Miss Ross will strongly +disapprove of my disturbing you like this. If you will tell me which way +they have gone I will go and meet them." + +"They've gone to your uncle's woods, and I think they must be on their +way home by now. If you call William he'll answer." + +"I won't say good-bye," said Miles, "because I shall come back with +them." + +"I shall be on duty then," said Meg. "Good-bye." + +She turned her face from him and nestled down among her cushions. For a +full minute he stood staring at the back of her head, with its crushed +and tumbled tangle of short curls. + +Then quite silently he took his way out of the Wren's End garden. + +Meg shut her eyes very tight. Was it the light that made them smart so? + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE YOUNG IDEA + + +Squire Walcote had given the Wren's End family the run of his woods, +and, what was even more precious, permission to use the river-path +through his grounds. Lady Mary, who had no children of her own, was +immensely interested in Tony and little Fay, and would give Jan more +advice as to their management in an hour than the vicar's wife ever +offered during the whole of their acquaintance. But then _she_ had a +family of eight. + +But the first time Tony went to the river Jan took him alone; and not to +the near water in Squire Walcote's grounds, but to the old bridge that +crossed the Amber some way out of the village. It was the typical +Cotswold bridge, with low parapets that make such a comfortable seat for +meditative villagers. Just before they reached it she loosed Tony's +hand, and held her breath to see what he would do. Would he run straight +across to get to the other side, or would he look over? + +Yes. He went straight to the low wall; stopped, looked over, leaned +over, and stared and stared. + +Jan gave a sigh of relief. + +The water of the Amber just there is deep and clear, an infinite thing +for a child to look down into; but it was not of that Jan was thinking. + +Hugo was no fisherman. Water had no attraction for him, save as a +pleasant means of taking exercise. He was a fair oar; but for a stream +that wouldn't float a boat he cared nothing at all. + +Charles Considine Smith had angled diligently. In fact, he wrote almost +as much about the habits of trout as about wrens. James Ross, the +gallant who carried off the second Tranquil, had been fishing at Amber +Guiting when he first saw her. Anthony's father fished and so did +Anthony; and Jan, herself, could throw a fly quite prettily. Yet, your +true fisherman is born, not made; it is not a question of environment, +but it is, very often, one of heredity; for the tendency comes out when, +apparently, every adverse circumstance has combined to crush it. + +And no mortal who cares for or is going to care for fishing can ever +cross a bridge without stopping to look down into the water. + +"There's a fish swimming down there," Tony whispered (was it instinct +made him whisper? Jan wondered), "brown and speckledy, rather like the +thrushes in the garden." + +Jan clutched nervously at the little coat while Tony hung over so far +that only his toes were on the ground. She had brought a bit of bread in +her pocket, and let him throw bits to the greedy, wily old trout who had +defied a hundred skilful rods. On that first day old Amber whispered her +secret to Tony and secured another slave. + +For Jan it was only another proof that Tony possessed a sterling +character. Since her sister's disastrous marriage she had come to look +upon a taste for fishing as more or less of a moral safeguard. She had +often reflected that if only Fay had not been so lukewarm with regard to +the gentle craft--and so bored in a heavenly place where, if it did rain +for twenty-three of the twenty-four hours, even a second-rate rod might +land fourteen or fifteen pounds of good sea-trout in an afternoon--she +could never have fallen in love with Hugo Tancred, who was equally +without enthusiasm and equally bored till he met Fay. Jan was ready +enough now to blame herself for her absorption at this time, and would +remember guiltily the relief with which she and her father greeted Fay's +sudden willingness to remain a week longer in a place she previously had +declared to be absolutely unendurable. + +The first time Tony's sister went to Amber Bridge Meg took them both. +Little Fay descended from her pram just before they reached it, +declaring it was a "nice dly place to walk." She ran on a little ahead, +and before Meg realised what she was doing, she had scrambled up on to +the top of the low wall and run briskly along it till her progress was +stopped by a man who was leaning over immersed in thought. He nearly +fell in himself, when a clear little voice inquired, "Do loo mind if I +climb over loo?" + +It was Farmer Burgess, and he clasped the tripping lady of the white +woolly gaiters in a pair of strong arms, and lifted her down just as the +terrified Meg reached them. + +"Law, Missie!" gasped Mr. Burgess, "you mustn't do the like o' that +there. It's downright fool'ardy." + +"Downlight foolardy," echoed little Fay. "And what nelse?" + +According to Mr. Burgess it was dangerous and a great many other things +as well, but he lost his heart to her in that moment, and she could +twist him round her little finger ever after. + +To be told that a thing was dangerous was to add to its attractions. She +was absolutely without fear, and could climb like a kitten. She hadn't +been at Wren's End a week before she was discovered half-way up the +staircase on the outside of the banisters. And when she had been caught +and lifted over by a white-faced aunt, explained that it was "muts the +most instasting way of going up tairs." + +When asked how she expected to get to the other side at the top, she +giggled derisively and said "ovel." + +Jan seriously considered a barbed-wire entanglement for the outside edge +of her staircase after that. + +While Meg rested in the hammock Jan spent a strenuous morning in Guiting +Woods with the children and William. Late windflowers were still in +bloom, and early bluebells made lovely atmospheric patches under the +trees, just as though a bit of the sky had fallen, as in the oft-told +tale of "Cockie Lockie." There were primroses, too, and white violets, +so that there were many little bunches with exceedingly short stalks to +be arranged and tied up with the worsted provident Auntie Jan had +brought with her; finally they all sat down on a rug lined with +mackintosh, and little Fay demanded "Clipture." + +"Clipture" was her form of "Scripture," which Auntie Jan "told" every +morning after breakfast to the children. Jan was a satisfactory +narrator, for the form of her stories never varied. The Bible stories +she told in the actual Bible words, and all children appreciate their +dramatic simplicity and directness. + +That morning Joseph and his early adventures and the baby Moses were the +favourites, and when these had been followed by "The Three Bears" and +"Cock Robin," it was time to collect the bouquets and go home. And on +the way home they met Captain Middleton. William spied him afar off, and +dashed towards him with joyful, deep-toned barks. He was delighted to +see William, said he had grown and was in the pink of condition; and +then announced that he had already been to Wren's End and had seen Miss +Morton. There was something in the tone of this avowal that made Jan +think. It was shy, it was proud, it seemed to challenge Jan to find any +fault in his having done so, and it was supremely self-conscious. He +walked back with them to the Wren's End gate, and then came a moment of +trial for William. + +He wanted to go with his master. + +He wanted to stay with the children. + +Captain Middleton settled it by shaking each offered paw and saying very +seriously: "You must stay and take care of the ladies, William. I trust +you." William looked wistfully after the tall figure that went down the +road with the queer, light, jumpetty tread of all men who ride much. + +Then he trotted after Jan and the children and was exuberantly glad to +see Meg again. + +She declared herself quite rested; heard that they had seen Captain +Middleton, and met unmoved the statement that he was coming to tea. + +But she didn't look nearly so well rested as Jan had hoped she would. + +After the children's dinner Meg went on duty, and Jan saw no more of the +nursery party till later in the afternoon. The creaking wheels of two +small wheelbarrows made Jan look up from the letters she was writing at +the knee-hole table that stood in the nursery window, and she beheld +little Fay and Tony, followed by Meg knitting busily, as they came +through the yew archway on to the lawn. + +Meg subsided into one of the white seats, but the children processed +solemnly round, pausing under Jan's window. + +"I know lots an' lots of Clipture," her niece's voice proclaimed proudly +as she sat down heavily in her wheelbarrow on the top of some garden +produce she had collected. + +"How much do you know?" Tony asked sceptically. + +"Oh, lots an' lots, all about poor little Jophez in the bullushes, and +his instasting dleams." + +"Twasn't Jophez," Tony corrected. "It was Mophez in the bulrushes, and +he didn't have no dreams. That was Jophez." + +"How d'you know," Fay persisted, "that poor little Mophez had no dleams? +Why _shouldn't_ he have dleams same as Jophez?" + +"It doesn't say so." + +"It doesn't say he _didn't_ have dleams. He _had_ dleams, I tell you; I +know he had. Muts nicer dleams van Jophez." + +"Let's ask Meg; she'll know." + +Jan gave a sigh of relief. The children had not noticed her, and Meg had +a fertile mind. + +The wheelbarrows were trundled across the lawn and paused in front of +Meg, while a lively duet demanded simultaneously: + + {"_Did_ little Mophez have dleams?" + {"_Didn't_ deah littoo Mophez have dleams?" + +When Meg had disentangled the questions and each child sat down in a +wheelbarrow at her feet, she remarked judicially: "Well, there's nothing +said about little Moses' dreams, certainly; but I should think it's +quite likely the poor baby did have dreams." + +"What sort of dleams? Nicer van sheaves and sings, wasn't they?" + +"I should think," Meg said thoughtfully, "that he dreamed he must cry +very quietly lest the Egyptians should hear him." + +"Deah littoo Mophez ... and what nelse?" + +Meg was tempted and fell. It was very easy for her to invent "dleams" +for "deah littoo Mophez" lying in his bulrush ark among the flags at the +river's edge. And, wholly regardless of geography, she transported him +to the Amber, where the flags were almost in bloom at that moment, such +local colour adding much to the realism of her stories. + +Presently William grew restless. He ran to Anthony's Venetian gate in +the yew hedge and squealed (William never whined) to get out. Tony let +him out, and he fled down the drive to meet his master, who had come a +good half-hour too soon for tea. + +Jan continued to try and finish her letters while Captain Middleton, +coatless, on all-fours, enacted an elephant which the children rode in +turn. When he had completely ruined the knees of his trousers he arose +and declared it was time to play "Here we go round the mulberry-bush," +and it so happened that once or twice he played it hand-in-hand with +Meg. + +Jan left her letters and went out. + +The situation puzzled her. She feared for Meg's peace of mind, for +Captain Middleton was undoubtedly attractive; and then she found herself +fearing for his. + +After tea and more games with the children Captain Middleton escorted +his hostess to church, where he joined his aunt in the Manor seat. + +During church Jan found herself wondering uneasily: + +"Was everybody going to fall in love with Meg?" + +"Would Peter?" + +"What a disagreeable idea!" + +And yet, why should it be? + +Resolutely she told herself that Peter was at perfect liberty to fall +in love with Meg if he liked, and set herself to listen intelligently to +the Vicar's sermon. + + * * * * * + +Meg started to put her children to bed, only to find that her fertility +of imagination in the afternoon was to prove her undoing in the evening; +for her memory was by no means as reliable as her powers of invention. + +Little Fay urgently demanded the whole cycle of little Mophez' dleams +over again. And for the life of her Meg couldn't remember them either in +their proper substance or sequence--and this in spite of the most +persistent prompting, and she failed utterly to reproduce the +entertainment of the afternoon. Both children were disappointed, but +little Fay, accustomed as she was to Auntie Jan's undeviating method of +narrating "Clipture," was angry as well. She fell into a passion of rage +and nearly screamed the house down. Since the night of Ayah's departure +there had not been such a scene. + +Poor Meg vowed (though she knew she would break her vow the very first +time she was tempted) that never again would she tamper with Holy Writ, +and for some weeks she coldly avoided both Jophez and Mophez as topics +of conversation. + +Meg could never resist playing at things, and what "Clipture" the +children learned from Jan in the morning they insisted on enacting with +Meg later in the day. + +Sometimes she was seized with misgiving as to the propriety of these +representations, but dismissed her doubts as cowardly. + +"After all," she explained to Jan, "we only play the very human bits. I +never let them pretend to be anybody divine ... and you know the +people--in the Old Testament, anyway--were most of them extremely human, +not to say disreputable at times." + +It is possible that "Clipture's" supreme attraction for the children was +that it conveyed the atmosphere of the familiar East. The New Testament +was more difficult to play at, but, being equally dramatic, the children +couldn't see it. + +"Can't we do one teeny miracle?" Tony would beseech, but Meg was firm; +she would have nothing to do with either miracles nor yet with angels. +Little Fay ardently desired to be an angel, but Meg wouldn't have it at +any price. + +"You're not in the least _like_ an angel, you know," she said severely. + +"What for?" + +"Because angels are _perfectly_ good." + +"I could _pletend_ to be puffectly good." + +"Let's play Johnny Baptist," suggested the ever-helpful Tony, "and we +could pittend to bring in his head on a charger." + +"Certainly not," Meg said hastily. "That would be a horrid game." + +"Let me be the daughter!" little Fay implored, "and dance in flont of +Helod." + +This was permitted, and Tony, decorated with William's chain, sat +gloomily scowling at the gyrations of "the daughter," who, assisted by +William, danced all over the nursery: and Meg, watching the +representation, decided that if the original "daughter" was half as +bewitching as this one, there really might have been some faint excuse +for Herod. + +Hannah had no idea of these goings-on, or she would have expected the +roof to fall in and crush them. Yet she, too, was included among the +children's prophets, owing to her exact and thorough knowledge of +"Clipture." Hannah's favourite part of the Bible was the Book of Daniel, +which she knew practically by heart; and her rendering of certain +chapters was--though she would have hotly resented the phrase--extremely +dramatic. + +It is so safe and satisfying to know that your favourite story will run +smoothly, clause for clause, and word for word, just as you like it +best, and the children were always sure of this with Hannah. + +Anne Chitt would listen open-mouthed in astonishment, exclaiming +afterwards, "Why, 'Annah, wot a tremenjous lot of Bible verses you 'ave +learned to be sure." + +The children once tried Anne Chitt as a storyteller, but she was a +failure. + +As she had been present at several of Hannah's recitals of the Three +Children and the burning fiery furnace, they thought it but a modest +demand upon her powers. But when--instead of beginning with the sonorous +"_Then an herald cried aloud, To you it is commanded, O people, nations +and languages_"--when she wholly omitted any reference to "_the sound of +cornet, flute, harp, sackbut, psaltery, and dulcimer_, and all kinds of +musick"--and essayed to tell the story in broad Gloucestershire and her +own bald words, the disappointed children fell upon her and thumped her +rudely upon the back; declaring her story to be "_kutcha_" and she, +herself, a _budmash_. Which, being interpreted, meant that her story was +most badly made and that she, herself, was a rascal. + +Anne Chitt was much offended, and complained tearfully to Jan that she +"wouldn't 'ave said nothin' if they'd called 'er or'nery names, but them +there Injian words was more than she could abear." + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +"ONE WAY OF LOVE" + + +Among the neighbours there was none more assiduous in the matter of +calls and other friendly manifestations than Mr. Huntly +Withells--emphasis on the "ells"--who lived at Guiting Grange, about a +couple of miles from Wren's End. Mr. Withells was settled at the Grange +some years before Miss Janet Ross left her house to Jan, and he was +already a person of importance and influence in that part of the county +when Anthony Ross and his daughters first spent a whole summer there. + +Mr. Withells proved most neighbourly. He had artistic leanings himself, +and possessed some good pictures; among them, one of Anthony's, which +naturally proved a bond of union. He did not even so much as sketch, +himself--which Anthony considered another point in his favour--but he +was a really skilled photographer, possessed the most elaborate cameras, +and obtained quite beautiful results. + +Since Jan's return from India he had completely won her heart by taking +a great many photographs of the children, pictures delightfully natural, +and finished as few amateurs contrive to present them. + +It was rumoured in Amber Guiting that Mr. Withells' views on the +subject of matrimony were "peculiar"; but all the ladies, especially the +elderly ladies, were unanimous in declaring that he had a "beautiful +mind." + +Mrs. Fream, the vicar's wife, timidly confided to Jan that Mr. Withells +had told her husband that he cared only for "spiritual marriage"-- +whatever that might be; and that, as yet, he had met no woman whom he +felt would see eye to eye with him on this question. "He doesn't approve +of caresses," she added. + +"Well, who wants to caress him?" Jan asked bluntly. + +Meg declared there was one thing she could not bear about Mr. Withells, +and that was the way he shook hands, "exactly as if he had no thumbs. If +he's so afraid of touching one as all that comes to, why doesn't he let +it alone?" + +Yet the apparently thumbless hands were constantly occupied in bearing +gifts of all kinds to his friends. + +In appearance he was dapper, smallish, without being undersized, always +immaculately neat in his attire, with a clean-shaven, serious, rather +sallow face, which was inclined to be chubby as to the cheeks. He wore +double-sighted pince-nez, and no mortal had ever seen him without them. +His favourite writer was Miss Jane Austen, and he deplored the +licentious tendency of so much modern literature; frequently, and with +flushed countenance, denouncing certain books as an "outrage." He was +considered a very well-read man. He disliked anything that was "not +quite nice," and detested a strong light, whether it were thrown upon +life or landscape; in bright sunshine he always carried a white umbrella +lined with green. The game he played best was croquet, and here he was +really first class; but he was also skilled in every known form of +Patience, and played each evening unless he happened to be dining out. + +As regards food he was something of a faddist, and on the subject of +fresh air almost a monomaniac. He declared that he could not exist for +ten minutes in a room with closed windows, and that the smell of apples +made him feel positively faint; moreover, he would mention his somewhat +numerous antipathies as though there were something peculiarly +meritorious in possessing so many. This made his entertainment at any +meal a matter of agitated consideration among the ladies of Amber +Guiting. + +Nevertheless, he kept an excellent and hospitable table himself, and in +no way forced his own taste upon others. He disliked the smell of +tobacco and hardly ever drank wine, yet he kept a stock of excellent +cigars and his cellar was beyond reproach. + +He had been observing Jan for several years, and was rapidly coming to +the conclusion that she was an "eminently sensible woman." Her grey hair +and the way she had managed everything for her father led him to believe +that she was many years older than her real age. Recently he had taken +to come to Wren's End on one pretext and another almost every day. He +was kind and pleasant to the children, who amused and pleased +him--especially little Fay; but he was much puzzled by Meg, whom he had +known in pre-cap-and-apron days while she was staying at Wren's End. + +He couldn't quite place Meg, and there was an occasional glint in her +queer eyes that he found disconcerting. He was never comfortable in her +society, for he objected to red hair almost as strongly as to a smell of +apples. + +He really liked the children, and since he knew he couldn't get Jan +without them he was beginning to think that in such a big house as the +Grange they would not necessarily be much in the way. He knew nothing +whatever about Hugo Tancred. + +Jan satisfied his fastidious requirements. She was dignified, graceful, +and, he considered, of admirable parts. He felt that in a very little +while he could imbue Jan with his own views as to the limitations and +delicate demarcations of such a marriage as he contemplated. + +She was so sensible. + +Meanwhile the object of these kind intentions was wholly unaware of +them. She was just then very much absorbed in her own affairs and +considerably worried about Meg's. For Captain Middleton's week-end was +repeated on the following Saturday and extended far into the next week. +He came constantly to Wren's End, where the children positively adored +him, and he seemed to possess an infallible instinct which led him to +the village whensoever Meg and her charges had business there. + +On such occasions Meg was often quite rude to Captain Middleton, but the +children and William more than atoned for her coldness by the warmth of +their welcome, and he attached himself to them. + +In fact, as regards the nursery party at Wren's End, Miles strongly +resembled William before a fire--you might drive him away ninety and +nine times, he always came thrusting back with the same expression of +deprecating astonishment that you could be other than delighted to see +him. + +Whither was it all tending? Jan wondered. + +No further news had come from Hugo; Peter, she supposed, had sailed and +was due in London at the end of the week. + +Then Mr. Huntly Withells asked her one afternoon to bicycle over to see +his spring irises--he called them "_irides_," and invariably spoke of +"_croci_," and "_delphinia_"--and as Meg was taking the children to tea +at the vicarage, Jan went. + +To her surprise, she found herself the sole guest, but supposed she was +rather early and that his other friends hadn't come yet. + +They strolled about the gardens, so lovely in their spring blossoming, +and it happened that from one particular place they got a specially good +view of the house. + +"How much larger it is than you would think, looking at the front," Jan +remarked. "You don't see that wing at all from the drive." + +"There's plenty of room for nephews and nieces," Mr. Withells said +jocularly. + +"Have you many nephews and nieces?" she asked, turning to look at him, +for there was something in the tone of his voice that she could not +understand. + +"Not of my own," he replied, still in that queer, unnatural voice, "but +you see my wife might have ... if I was married." + +"Are you thinking of getting married?" she asked, with the real interest +such a subject always rouses in woman. + +"That depends," Mr. Withells said consciously, "on whether the lady I +have in mind ... er ... shall we sit down, Miss Ross? It's rather hot in +the walks." + +"Oh, not yet," Jan exclaimed. She couldn't think why, but she began to +feel uncomfortable. "I must see those Darwin tulips over there." + +"It's very sunny over there," he objected. "Come down the nut-walk and +see the _myosotis arvensis_; it is already in bloom, the weather has +been so warm. + +"Miss Ross," Mr. Withells continued seriously, as they turned into the +nut-walk which led back towards the house, "we have known each other for +a considerable time...." + +"We have," said Jan, as he had paused, evidently expecting a reply. + +"And I have come to have a great regard for you...." + +Again he paused, and Jan found herself silently whispering, "Curtsy +while you're thinking--it saves time," but she preserved an outward +silence. + +"You are, if I may say so, the most sensible woman of my acquaintance." + +"Thank you," said Jan, but without enthusiasm. + +"We are neither of us quite young"--(Mr. Withells was forty-nine, but it +was a little hard on Jan)--"and I feel sure that you, for instance, +would not expect or desire from a husband those constant outward +demonstrations of affection such as handclaspings and kisses, which are +so foolish and insanitary." + +Jan turned extremely red and walked rather faster. + +"Do not misunderstand me, Miss Ross," Mr. Withells continued, looking +with real admiration at her downcast, rosy face--she must be quite +healthy he thought, to look so clean and fresh always--"I lay down no +hard-and-fast rules. I do not say should my wife desire to kiss me +sometimes, that I should ... repulse her." + +Jan gasped. + +"But I have the greatest objection, both on sanitary and moral grounds +to----" + +"I can't imagine anyone _wanting_ to kiss you," Jan interrupted +furiously; "you're far too puffy and stippled." + +And she ran from him as though an angry bull were after her. + +Mr. Withells stood stock-still where he was, in pained astonishment. + +He saw the fleeing fair one disappear into the distance and in the +shortest time on record he heard the clanging of her bicycle bell as she +scorched down his drive. + +"Puffy and stippled"--"Puffy and stippled"! + +Mr. Withells repeated to himself this rudely personal remark as he +walked slowly towards the house. + +What could she mean? + +And what in the world had he said to make her so angry? + +Women were really most unaccountable. + +He ascended his handsome staircase and went into his dressing-room, and +there he sought his looking-glass, which stood in the window, and +surveyed himself critically. Yes, his cheeks _were_ a bit puffy near the +nostrils, and, as is generally the case in later life, the pores of the +skin were a bit enlarged, but for all that he was quite a personable +man. + +He sighed. Miss Ross, he feared, was not nearly so sensible as he had +thought. + +It was distinctly disappointing. + + * * * * * + +For the first mile and a quarter Jan scorched all she knew. The angry +blood was thumping in her ears and she exclaimed indignantly at +intervals, "How dared he! How dared he!" + +Then she punctured a tyre. + +There was no hope of getting it mended till she reached Wren's End, when +Earley would do it for her. As she pushed her bicycle along the lane she +recovered her sense of humour and she laughed. And presently she became +aware of a faint, sweet, elusive perfume from some flowering shrub on +the other side of somebody's garden wall. + +It strongly resembled the smell of a blossoming tree that grew on Ridge +Road, Malabar Hill. And in one second Jan was in Bombay, and was +standing in the moonlight, looking up into a face that was neither puffy +nor stippled nor prim; but young and thin and worn and very kind. And +the exquisite understanding of that moment came back to her, and her +eyes filled with tears. + +Yet in another moment she was again demanding indignantly, "How dared +he!" + +She went straight to her room when she got in, and, like Mr. Withells, +she went and looked at herself in the glass. + +Unlike Mr. Withells, she saw nothing there to give her any satisfaction. +She shook her head at the person in the glass and said aloud: + +"If that's all you get by trying to be sensible, the sooner you become a +drivelling idiot the better for your peace of mind--and your vanity." + +The person in the glass shook her head back at Jan, and Jan turned away +thoroughly disgusted with such a futile sort of _tu quoque_. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +ANOTHER WAY OF LOVE + + +Meg and the children, returning from their tea-party at the vicarage, +were stopped continually in their journey through the main street by +friendly folk who wanted to greet the children. It was quite a triumphal +progress, and Meg was feeling particularly proud that afternoon, for her +charges, including William, had all behaved beautifully. Little Fay had +refrained from snatching other children's belongings with the cool +remark, "Plitty little Fay would like 'at"; Tony had been quite merry +and approachable; and William had offered paws and submitted to +continual pullings, pushings and draggings with exemplary patience. + +Once through the friendly, dignified old street, they reached the main +road, which was bordered by rough grass sloping to a ditch surmounted by +a thick thorn hedge. They were rather late, and Meg was wheeling little +Fay as fast as she could, Tony trotting beside her to keep up, when a +motor horn was sounded behind them and a large car came along at a good +speed. They were all well to the side of the road, but William--with the +perverse stupidity of the young dog--above all, of the young +bull-terrier--chose that precise moment to gambol aimlessly right into +the path of the swiftly-coming motor, just as it seemed right upon him; +and this, regardless of terrified shouts from Meg and the children, +frantic sounding of the horn and violent language from the driver of the +car. + +It seemed that destruction must inevitably overtake William when the car +swerved violently as the man ran it down the sloping bank, where it +stuck, leaving William, unscathed and rather alarmed by all the clamour, +to run back to his family. + +Meg promptly whacked him as hard as she could, whereupon, much +surprised, he turned over on his back, waving four paws feebly in the +air. + +"Why don't you keep your dog at the side?" the man shouted with very +natural irritation as he descended from his seat. + +"He's a naughty--stupid--puppy," Meg ejaculated between the whacks. "It +wasn't your fault in the least, and it was awfully good of you to avoid +him."--Whack--whack. + +The man started a little as she spoke and came across the road towards +them. + +Meg raised a flushed face from her castigation of William, but the +pretty colour faded quickly when she saw who the stranger was. + +"Meg!" he exclaimed. "_You!_" + +For a tense moment they stared at one another, while the children stared +at the stranger. He was certainly a handsome man; melancholy, +"interesting." Pale, with regular features and sleepy, smallish eyes set +very near together. + +"If you knew how I have searched for you," he said. + +His voice was his great charm, and would have made his fortune on the +stage. It could convey so much, could be so tender and beseeching, so +charged with deepest sadness, so musical always. + +"Your search cannot have been very arduous," Meg answered drily. "There +has never been any mystery about my movements." And she looked him +straight in the face. + +"At first, I was afraid ... I did not try to find you." + +"You were well-advised." + +"Who is 'at sahib?" little Fay interrupted impatiently. "Let us go +home." She had no use for any sahib who ignored her presence. + +"Yes, we'd better be getting on," Meg said hurriedly, and seized the +handle of the pram. + +But he stood right in their path. + +"You were very cruel," the musical voice went on. "You never seemed to +give a thought to all _I_ was suffering." + +Meg met the sleepy eyes, that used to thrill her very soul, with a look +of scornful amusement in hers that was certainly the very last +expression he had ever expected to see in them. + +She had always dreaded this moment. + +Realising the power this man had exercised over her, she always feared +that should she meet him again the old glamour would surround him; the +old domination be reasserted. She forgot that in five years one's +standards change. + +Now that she did meet him she discovered that he held no bonds with +which to bind her. That what she had dreaded was a chimera. The real +Walter Brooke, the moment he appeared in the flesh, destroyed the image +memory had set up; and Meg straightened her slender shoulders as though +a heavy burden had dropped from them. + +The whole thing passed like a flash. + +"You were very cruel," he repeated. + +"There is no use going into all that," Meg answered in a cheerful, +matter-of-fact tone. "Good-bye, Mr. Brooke. We are most grateful to you +for not running over William, who is," here she raised her voice for the +benefit of the culprit, "a naughty--tiresome dog." + +"But you can't leave me like this. When can I see you again--there is so +much I want to explain...." + +"But I don't want any explanations, thank you. Come children, we _must_ +go." + +"Meg, listen ... surely you have some little feeling of kindness towards +me ... after all that happened...." + +He put his hand on Meg's arm to detain her, and William, who had never +been known to show enmity to human creature, gave a deep growl and +bristled. A growl so ominous and threatening that Meg hastily loosed the +pram and caught him by the collar with both hands. + +Tony saw that Meg was flustered and uncomfortable. "Why does he not go?" +he asked. "I thought he was a sahib, but I suppose he is the +gharri-wallah. We have thanked him--does he want backsheesh? Give him a +rupee." + +"He _does_ want backsheesh," the deep, musical voice went on--"a little +pity, a little common kindness." + +It was an embarrassing situation. William was straining at his collar +and growling like an incipient thunderstorm. + +"We have thanked you," Tony said again with dignity. "We have no money, +or we would reward you. If you like to call at the house, Auntie Jan +always has money." + +The man smiled pleasantly at Tony. + +"Thank you, young man. You have told me exactly what I wanted to know. +So you are with your friends?" + +"I can't hold this dog much longer," Meg gasped. "If you don't +go--you'll get bitten." + +William ceased to growl, for far down the road he had heard a footstep +that he knew. He still strained at his collar, but it was in a direction +that led away from Mr. Walter Brooke. Meg let go and William swung off +down the road. + +"Shall we all have a lide in loo ghalli?" little Fay asked--it seemed to +her sheer waste of time to stand arguing in the road when a good car was +waiting empty. The children called every form of conveyance a "gharri." + +"We shall meet again," said this persistent man. "You can't put me off +like this." + +He raised his voice, for he was angry, and its clear tones carried far +down the quiet road. + +"There's Captain Middleton with William," Tony said suddenly. "Perhaps +_he_ has some money." + +Meg paled and crimsoned, and with hands that trembled started to push +the pram at a great pace. + +The man went back to his car, and Tony, regardless of Meg's call to him, +ran to meet William and Miles. + +The back wheels of the car had sunk deeply into the soft wet turf. It +refused to budge. Miles came up. He was long-sighted, and he had seen +very well who it was that was talking to Meg in the road. He had also +heard Mr. Brooke's last remark. + +Till lately he had only known Walter Brooke enough to dislike him +vaguely. Since his interview with Mrs. Trent this feeling had +intensified to such an extent as surprised himself. At the present +moment he was seething with rage, but all the same he went and helped to +get the car up the bank, jacking it up, and setting his great shoulders +against it to start it again. + +All this Tony watched with deepest interest, and Meg waited, fuming, a +little way down the road, for she knew it was hopeless to get Tony to +come till the car had once started. Once on the hard road again, it +bowled swiftly away and to her immense relief passed her without +stopping. + +She saw that Miles was bringing Tony, and started on again with little +Fay. + +Fury was in her heart at Tony's disobedience, and behind it all a dull +ache that Miles should have heard, and doubtless misunderstood, Walter +Brooke's last remark. + +Tony was talking eagerly as he followed, but she was too upset to listen +till suddenly she heard Miles say in a tone of the deepest satisfaction, +"Good old William." + +This was too much. + +She stopped and called over her shoulder: "He isn't good at all; he's a +thoroughly tiresome, disobedient, badly-trained dog." + +They came up with her at that, and William rolled over on his back, for +he knew those tones portended further punishment. + +"He's an ass in lots of ways," Miles allowed, "but he is an excellent +judge of character." + +And as if in proof of this William righted himself and came cringing to +Meg to try and lick the hand that a few minutes ago had thumped him so +vigorously. + +Meg looked up at Miles and he looked down at her, and his gaze was +pained, kind and grave. _His_ eyes were large and well-opened and set +wide apart in his broad face. Honest, trustworthy eyes they were. + +Very gently he took the little pram from her, for he saw that her hands +were trembling: "You've had a fright," he said. "I know what it is. I +had a favourite dog run over once. It's horrible, it takes months to get +over it. I can't think why dogs are so stupid about motors ... must have +been a near shave that ... very decent of Brooke--he's taken pounds off +his car with that wrench." + +While Miles talked he didn't look at Meg. + +"I say, little Fay," he suddenly suggested, "wouldn't you like to walk a +bit?" and he lifted her out. "There, that's better. Now, Miss Morton, +you sit down a minute; you've had a shake, you know. I'll go on with the +kiddies." + +Meg was feeling a horrible, humiliating desire to cry. Her eyes were +bright with unshed tears, her knees refused to bear her. Thankfully she +sat down on the foot-board of Fay's little pram. The tall figure between +the two little ones suddenly grew blurred and dim. Furtively she blew +her nose and wiped her eyes. They were not a stone's throw from the +lodge at Wren's End. + +How absurd to be sitting there! + +And yet she didn't feel inclined to move just yet. + +"'Ere, my dear, you take a sip o' water; the gentleman's told me all +about it. Them sort o' shocks fair turns one over." + +And kind Mrs. Earley was beside her, holding out a thick tumbler. Meg +drank the deliciously cold water and arose refreshed. + +And somehow the homely comfort of Mrs. Earley's presence made her +realise wherein lay the essential difference between these two men. + +"He still treats me like a princess," she thought, "even though he +thinks ... Oh, what _can_ he think?" and Meg gave a little sob. + +"There, there!" said Mrs. Earley, "don't you take on no more, Miss. The +dear dog bain't 'urted not a 'air of him. 'E cum frolicking in that +friendly--I sometimes wonders if there do be anyone as William 'ud ever +bite. 'E ain't much of a watchdog, I fear." + +"He nearly bit someone this afternoon," Meg said. + +"Well, I'm not sorry to yer it. It don't do for man nor beast to be too +trustful--not in this world it don't." + +At the drive gate Miles was standing. + +Mrs. Earley took the pram with her for Earley to clean, and Meg and +Miles walked on together. + +"I'm sorry you've had this upset," he said. "I've talked to William like +a father." + +"It wasn't only William," Meg murmured. + +They were close to the house, and she stopped. + +"Good night, Captain Middleton. I must go and put my children to bed; +we're late." + +"I don't want to seem interfering, Miss Morton, but don't you let anyone +bully you into picking up an acquaintance you'd rather drop." + +"I suppose," said Meg, "one always has to pay for the things one has +done." + +"Well, yes, sooner or later; but it's silly to pay Jew prices." + +"Ah," said Meg, "you've never been poor enough to go to the Jews, so you +can't tell." + + * * * * * + +Miles walked slowly back to Amber Guiting that warm May evening. He had +a good deal to think over, for he had come to a momentous decision. When +he thought of Meg as he had just seen her--small and tremulous and +tearful--he clenched his big hands and made a sound in his throat not +unlike William's growl. When he pictured her angry onslaught upon +William, he laughed. But the outcome of his reflections was this--that +whether in the past she had really done anything that put her in Walter +Brooke's power, or whether he was right to trust to that intangible +quality in her that seemed to give the direct lie to the worst of Mrs. +Trent's story, Meg appeared to him to stand in need of some hefty chap +as a buffer between her and the hard world, and he was very desirous of +being that same for Meg. + +His grandfather, "Mutton-Pie Middleton," had married one of his own +waitresses for no other reason than that he found she was "the lass for +him"--and he might, so the Doncaster folk thought, have looked a good +deal higher for a wife, for he was a "warm" man at the time. Miles +strongly resembled his grandfather. He was somewhat ruefully aware that +in appearance there was but little of the Keills about him. He could +just remember the colossal old man who must have weighed over twenty +stone in his old age, and Miles, hitherto, had refused to buy a motor +for his own use because he knew that if he was to keep his figure he +must walk, and walk a lot. + +Like his grandfather, he was now perfectly sure of himself; Meg "was the +lass for him"; but he was by no means equally sure of her. By some +infallible delicacy of instinct--and this he certainly did not get from +the Middletons--he knew that what the world would regard as a +magnificent match for Meg, might be the very circumstance that would +destroy his chance with her. The Middletons were all keenly alive to the +purchasing powers of money, and saw to it that they got their money's +worth. + +All the same, a man's a man, whether he be rich or poor, and Miles still +remembered the way Meg had smiled upon him the first time they ever met. +Surely she could never have smiled at him like that unless she had +rather liked him. + +It was the pathos of Meg herself--not the fact that she had to +work--that appealed to Miles. That she should cheerfully earn her own +living instead of grousing in idleness in a meagre home seemed to him +merely a matter of common sense. He knew that if he had to do it he +could earn his, and the one thing he could neither tolerate nor +understand about a good many of his Keills relations was their +preference for any form of assistance to honest work. He helped them +generously enough, but in his heart of hearts he despised them, though +he did not confess this even to himself. + +As he drew near the Manor House he saw Lady Mary walking up and down +outside, evidently waiting for him. + +"Where have you been, Miles?" she asked, impatiently. "Pen has been +here, and wanted specially to see you, but she couldn't stay any longer, +as it's such a long run back. She motored over from Malmesbury." + +"What did she want?" Miles asked. "She's always in a stew about +something. One of her Pekinese got pip, or what?" + +Lady Mary took his arm and turned to walk along the terrace. "I think," +she said, and stopped. "Where _were_ you, Miles?" + +"I strolled down the village to get some tobacco, and then I saw a chap +who'd got his motor stuck, and helped him, and then ..." Here Miles +looked down at his aunt, who looked up at him apprehensively. "I caught +up with Miss Morton and the children, and walked back to Wren's End with +them. There, Aunt Mary, that's a categorical history of my time since +tea." + +Lady Mary pressed his arm. "Miles, dear, do you think it's quite wise to +be seen about so much with little Miss Morton ... wise for her I mean?" + +"I hope I'm not the sort of chap it's bad to be seen about with...." + +"Of course not, dear Miles, but, you see, her position...." + +"What's the matter with her position?" + +"Of course I know it's most creditable of her and all that ... but ... +when a girl has to go out as a sort of nursery governess, it is +different, isn't it, dear? I mean...." + +"Yes, Aunt Mary, I'm awfully interested--different from what?" + +"From girls who lead the sheltered life, girls who don't work ... girls +of our own class." + +"I don't know," Miles said thoughtfully, "that I should say Pen, for +instance, lives exactly a _sheltered_ life, should you?" + +"Pen is married." + +"Yes, but before she was married ... eh, Aunt Mary? Be truthful, now." + +Miles held his aunt's arm tightly within his, and he stooped and looked +into her face. + +"And does the fact that Pen is married explain or excuse her deplorable +taste in men? Which does it do, Aunt Mary? Speak up, now." + +Lady Mary laughed. "I'm not here to defend Pen; I'm here to get your +answer as to whether you think it's ... quite fair to make that little +Miss Morton conspicuous by running after her and making her the talk of +the entire county, for that's what you're doing." + +"What good old Pen has been telling you I'm doing, I suppose." + +"I had my own doubts about it without any help from Pen ... but she said +Alec Pottinger had been talking...." + +"Pottinger's an ass." + +"He doesn't talk _much_, anyhow, Miles, and she felt if _he_ said +anything...." + +"Look here, Aunt Mary, how's a chap to go courting seriously if he +doesn't run after a girl?... he can't work it from a distance ... not +unless he's one of those poet chaps, and puts letters in hollow trees +and so on. And you don't seem to have provided any hollow trees about +here." + +"Courting ... seriously!" Lady Mary repeated with real horror in her +tones. "Oh, Miles, you can't mean that!" + +"Surely you'd not prefer I meant the other thing?" + +"But, Miles dear, think!" + +"I have thought, and I've thought it out." + +"You mean you want to _marry_ her?" + +Lady Mary spoke in an awed whisper. + +"Just exactly that, and I don't care who knows it; but I'm not at all +sure she wants to marry me ... that's why I don't want to rush my fences +and get turned down. I'm a heavy chap to risk a fall, Aunt Mary." + +"Oh, Miles! this is worse than anything Pen even dreamt of." + +"What is? If you mean that she probably won't have me--I'm with you." + +"Of course she'd jump at you--any girl would.... But a little +nursemaid!" + +"Come now, Aunt Mary, you know very well she's just as good as I am; +better, probably, for she's got no pies nor starch in her pedigree. Her +father's a Major and her mother was of quite good family--and she's got +lots of rich, stingy relations ... and she doesn't sponge on 'em. What's +the matter with her?" + +"Please don't do anything in a hurry, dear Miles." + +"I shan't, if you and Pen and the blessed 'county,' with its criticism +and gossip, don't drive me into it ... but the very first word you +either say or repeat to me against Miss Morton, off I go to her and to +the old Major.... So now we understand each other, Aunt Mary--eh?" + +"There are things you ought to know, Miles." + +"You may depend," said Miles grimly, "that anything I ought to know I +shall be told ... over and over again ... confound it.... And remember, +Aunt Mary, that what I've told you is not in the least private. Tell +Pen, tell Mrs. Fream, tell Withells, but just leave me to tell Miss +Ross, that's all I beg." + +"Miles, I shall tell nobody, for I hope ... I hope----" + +"'Hope told a flattering tale,'" said Miles, and kissed his aunt ... but +to himself he said: "I've shut their mouths for a day or two anyway." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +THE ENCAMPMENT + + +It was the morning of the first Monday in June, and Tony had wandered +out into the garden all by himself. Monday mornings were very busy, and +once Clipture was over Jan and Meg became socially useless to any +self-respecting boy. + +There was all the washing to sort and divide into two large heaps: what +might be sent to Mrs. Chitt in the village, and what might be kept for +the ministrations of one Mrs. Mumford, who came every Monday to Wren's +End. And this division was never arrived at without a good deal of +argument between Jan and Meg. + +If Jan had had her way, Mrs. Mumford's heap would have been very small +indeed, and would have consisted chiefly of socks and handkerchiefs. If +Meg had had hers, nothing at all would have gone to Mrs. Chitt. Usually, +too, Hannah was called in as final arbitrator, and she generally sided +with Meg. Little Fay took the greatest interest in the whole ceremony, +chattered continually, and industriously mixed up the heaps when no one +was looking. + +At such times Tony was of the opinion that there were far too many women +in the world. On this particular morning, too, he felt injured because +of something that had happened at breakfast. + +It was always a joy to Meg and Jan that whatever poor Fay might have +left undone in the matter of disciplining her children, she had at least +taught them to eat nicely. Little Fay's management of a spoon was a joy +to watch. The dimpled baby hand was so deft, the turn of the plump wrist +so sure and purposeful. She never spilled or slopped her food about. Its +journey from bowl to little red mouth was calculated and assured. Both +children had a horror of anything sticky, and would refuse jam unless it +was "well covelled in a sangwidge." + +That very morning Jan and Meg exchanged congratulatory glances over +their well-behaved charges, sitting side by side. + +Then, all at once, with a swift, sure movement, little Fay stretched up +and deposited a spoonful of exceedingly hot porridge exactly on the top +of her brother's head, with a smart tap. + +Tony's hair was always short, and had been cut on Saturday, and the hot +mixture ran down into his eyes, which filled him with rage. + +He tried to get out of his high chair, exclaiming angrily, "Let me get +at her to box her!" + +Jan held him down with one hand while she wiped away the offending mess +with the other, and all the time Tony cried in _crescendo_, "Let me get +at her!" + +Little Fay, quite unmoved, continued to eat her porridge with studied +elegance, and in gently reproachful tones remarked, "Tony velly closs +littoo boy." + +Jan and Meg, who wanted desperately to laugh, tried hard to look +shocked, and Meg asked, "What on earth possessed you to do such a +thing?" + +"Tony's head so shiny and smoove." + +Tony rubbed the shiny head ruefully. + +"Can't I do nuffin to her?" he demanded. + +"No," his sister answered firmly, "loo can't, 'cos I'm plitty littoo +Fay." + +"Can't I plop some on _her_ head?" he persisted. + +"It certainly seems unfair," Jan said thoughtfully, "but I think you'd +better not." + +"It _is_ unfair," Tony grumbled. + +Jan loosed his hands. "Now," she said, "you can do what you like." + +Little Fay leaned towards her brother, smiling her irresistible, +dimpled, twinkling smile, and held out a spoonful of her porridge. + +"Deah littoo Tony," she cooed, "taste it." + +And Tony meekly accepted the peace-offering. + +"You haven't smacked her," Jan remarked. + +Tony sighed. "It's too late now--I don't feel like it any more." + +All the same he felt aggrieved as he set out to seek Earley in the +kitchen garden. + +Earley was not to be found. He saw Mrs. Mumford already hanging kitchen +cloths on a line in the orchard, but he felt no desire for Mrs. +Mumford's society. + +Tony's tormented soul sought for something soothing. + +The garden was pleasant, but it wasn't enough. + +Ah! he'd got it! + +He'd go to the river; all by himself he'd go, and not tell anybody. He'd +look over the bridge into that cool deep pool and perhaps that big fat +trout would be swimming about. What was it he had heard Captain +Middleton say last time he was down at Amber Guiting? "The Mayfly was +up." + +He had seemed quite delighted about it, therefore it must mean something +pleasant. + +After all, on a soft, not too sunny morning in early June, with a west +wind rustling the leaves in the hedges, the world was not such a bad +place; for even if there were rather too many women in it, there were +dogs and rivers and country roads where adventurous boys could see life +for themselves. + +William agreed with Tony in his dislike of Monday mornings. He went and +lay on the front door mat so that he was more than ready to accompany +anyone who happened to be going out. + +By the time they reached the bridge all sense of injury had vanished, +and buoyant expectation had taken its place. + +Three men were fishing. One was far in the distance, one about three +hundred yards up stream, and one Tony recognised as Mr. Dauncey, +landlord of "The Full Basket," the square white house standing in its +neat garden just on the other side of the bridge. The fourth gentleman, +who had forgotten his hat, and was clad in a holland smock, sandals, +and no stockings, leaned over luxuriously, with his elbows on the low +wall and his bare legs thrust out. He was very still, even trying not to +twitch when William licked his bare legs, as he did at intervals just to +show he was there on guard. + +There had been heavy rain in the night and the water was discoloured. +Nobody noticed Tony, and for about an hour nothing happened. Then Mr. +Dauncey got a rise. The rigid little figure on the bridge leaned further +over as Mr. Dauncey's reel screamed and he followed his cast down +stream. + +Presently, with a sense of irritation, Tony was aware of footsteps +coming over the bridge. He felt that he simply could not bear it just +then if anyone leaned over beside him and talked. The footsteps came up +behind him and passed; and William, who was lying between Tony's legs +and the wall, squeezed as close to him as possible, gave a low growl. + +"Hush, William, naughty dog!" Tony whispered crossly. + +William hushed, and drooped as he always did when rebuked. + +It occurred to Tony to look after this amazing person who could cross a +bridge without stopping to look over when a reel was joyfully +proclaiming that some fisherman was having luck. + +It was a man, and he walked as though he were footsore and tired. There +was something dejected and shabby in his appearance, and his clothes +looked odd somehow in Amber Guiting. Tony stared after the stranger, +and gradually he realised that there was something familiar in the back +of the tall figure that walked so slowly and yet seemed trying to walk +fast. + +The man had a stick and evidently leant upon it as he went. He wore an +overcoat and carried nothing in his hand. + +Mr. Dauncey's reel chuckled and one of the other anglers ran towards him +with a landing-net. + +But Tony still stared after the man. Presently, with a deep sigh, he +started to follow him. + +Just once he turned, in time to see that Mr. Dauncey had landed his +trout. + +The sun came out from behind the clouds. "The Full Basket," the river, +brown and rippled, the bridge, the two men talking eagerly on the bank +below, the muddy road growing cream-coloured in patches as it dried, +were all photographed upon Tony's mind. When he started to follow the +stranger he was out of sight, but now Tony trotted steadily forward and +did not look round again. + +William was glad. He had been lying in a puddle, and, like little Fay, +he preferred "a dly place." + +Meanwhile, at Wren's End the washing had taken a long time to count and +to divide. There seemed a positively endless number of little smocks and +frocks and petticoats and pinafores, and Meg wanted to keep them all for +Mrs. Mumford to wash, declaring that she (Meg) could starch and iron +them beautifully. This was quite true. She could iron very well, as she +did everything she undertook to do. But Jan knew that it tired her +dreadfully, that the heat and the wielding of the heavy iron were very +bad for her, and after much argument and many insulting remarks from Meg +as to Jan's obstinacy and extravagance generally, the things were +divided. Meg put on little Fay's hat and swept her out into the garden; +whereupon Jan plunged into Mrs. Mumford's heap, removed all the things +to be ironed that could not be tackled by Anne Chitt, stuffed them into +Mrs. Chitt's basket, fastened it firmly and rang for Anne and Hannah to +carry the things away. + +She washed her hands and put on her gardening gloves preparatory to +going out, humming a gay little snatch of song; and as she ran down the +wide staircase she heard the bell ring, and saw the figure of a man +standing in the open doorway. + +The maids were carrying the linen down the back stairs, and she went +across the hall to see what he wanted. + +"Well, Jan," he said, and his voice sounded weak and tired. "Here I am +at last." + +He held out his hand, and as she took it she felt how hot and dry it +was. + +"Come in, Hugo," she said quietly. "Why didn't you let me know you were +coming, and I'd have met you." + +The man followed her as she led the way into the cool, fragrant +drawing-room. He paused in the doorway and passed his hand across his +eyes. "It does bring it all back," he said. + +He sat down in a deep chair and leaned his head against the back, +closing his eyes. Jan saw that he was thin to emaciation, and that he +looked very ill; shabby, too, and broken. + +The instinct of the nurse that exists in any woman worth her salt was +roused in Jan. All the passionate indignation she had felt against her +brother-in-law was merged at the moment in pity and anxiety. + +"Hugo," she said gently, "I fear you are ill. Have you had any +breakfast?" + +"I came by the early train to avoid ordering breakfast; I couldn't have +paid for it. I'd only enough for my fare. Jan, I haven't a single rupee +left." + +He sat forward in the chair with his hands on the arms and closed his +eyes again. + +Jan looked keenly at the handsome, haggard face. There was no pretence +here. The man was gravely ill. His lips (Jan had always mistrusted his +well-shaped mouth because it would never really shut) were dry and +cracked and discoloured, the cheekbones sharp, and there was that deep +hollow at the back of the neck that always betrays the man in +ill-health. + +She went to him and pressed him back in the chair. + +"What do you generally do when you have fever?" she asked. + +"Go to bed--if there is a bed; and take quinine and drink hot tea." + +"That's what you'd better do now. Where are your things?" + +"There's a small bag at the station. They promised to send it up. I +couldn't carry it and I had no money to pay a boy. I came the long way +round, Jan, not through the village. No one recognised me." + +"I'll get you some tea at once, and I have quinine in the house. Will +you take some now?" + +Hugo laughed. "Your quinine would be of no earthly use to me, but I've +already taken it this morning. I've got some here in my pocket. The +minute my bag comes I'll go to bed--if you don't mind." + +Someone fumbled at the handle of the door, and Tony, followed by +William, appeared on the threshold. + +Hugo Tancred opened his eyes. "Hullo!" he said. "Do you remember me, +young shaver?" + +Tony came into the room holding out his hand. "How do you do?" he said +solemnly. + +Hugo took it and stared at his son with strange glazed eyes. "You look +fit enough, anyhow," he said, and dropped the little hand. + +"I came as quick as I could," Tony said eagerly to Jan. "But Mr. Dauncey +caught a trout, and I _had_ to wait a minute." + +"Good heavens!" Hugo exclaimed irritably. "Do you all _still_ think and +talk about nothing but fishing?" + +"Come," said Jan, holding out her hand to Tony, "and we'll go and see +about some breakfast for Daddie." + +William, who had been sniffing dubiously at the man in the chair, dashed +after them. + +As they crossed the hall Tony remarked philosophically: "Daddie's got +fever. He'll be very cross, then he'll be very sad, and then he'll want +you to give him something, and if you do--p'raps he'll go away." + +Jan made no answer. + +Tony followed her through the swing door and down the passage to speak +to Hannah, who was much moved and excited when she heard Mr. Tancred had +arrived. Hannah was full of sympathy for the "poor young widower," and +though she could have wished that he had given them notice of his +coming, still, she supposed him to be so distracted with grief that he +forgot to do anything of the kind. She and Anne Chitt went there and +then to make up his bed, while Jan boiled the kettle and got him some +breakfast. + +While she was doing this Meg and little Fay came round to the back to +look for Tony, whom they found making toast. + +"Who's tum?" asked little Fay, while Jan rapidly explained the situation +to Meg. + +"Your Daddie's come." + +Little Fay looked rather vague. "What sort of a Daddie?" she asked. + +"You take her to see him, Tony, and I'll finish the toast," said Jan, +taking the fork out of his hand. + +When the children had gone Meg said slowly: "And Mr. Ledgard comes +to-morrow?" + +"He can't. I must telegraph and put him off for a day or two. Hugo is +really ill." + +"I shouldn't put him off long, if I were you." + +Jan seized the tray: "I'll send a wire now, if you and the children will +take it down to the post-office for me." + +"Why send it at all?" said Meg. "Let him come." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +TACTICS + + +It was a fortnight since Hugo Tancred arrived at Wren's End, and Jan had +twice put off Peter's visit. + +During the first few days Hugo's temperature remained so high that she +grew thoroughly alarmed; and in spite of his protestations that he was +"quite used to it," she sent for the doctor. Happily the doctor in his +youth had been in the East and was able to reassure her. His opinion, +too, had more weight with Hugo on this account, and though he grumbled +he consented to do what the doctor advised. And at the end of a week +Hugo was able to come downstairs, looking very white and shaky. He lay +out in the garden in a deck-chair for most of the day and managed to eat +a good many of the nourishing dishes Hannah prepared for him. + +It had been a hard time for Jan, as Hugo was not an invalid who excited +compassion in those who had to wait upon him. He took everything for +granted, was somewhat morose and exacting, and made no attempt to +control the extreme irritability that so often accompanies fever. + +When the fever left him, however, his tone changed, and the second +stage, indicated by Tony as "sad," set in with severity. + +His depression was positively overwhelming, and he seemed to think that +its public manifestation should arouse in all beholders the most +poignant and respectful sympathy. + +Poor Jan found it very difficult to behave in a manner at all calculated +to satisfy her brother-in-law. She had not, so far, uttered one word of +reproach to him, but she _would_ shrink visibly when he tried to discuss +his wife, and she could not even pretend to believe in the deep +sincerity of a grief that seemed to find such facile solace in +expression. The mode of expression, too, in hackneyed, commonplace +phrases, set her teeth on edge. + +She knew that poor Hugo--she called him "poor Hugo" just then--thought +her cold and unsympathetic because she rather discouraged his +outpourings; but Fay's death was too lately-lived a tragedy to make it +possible for her to talk of it--above all, with him; and after several +abortive attempts Hugo gave up all direct endeavour to make her. + +"You are terribly Scotch, Jan," he said one day. "I sometimes wonder +whether anything could make you _really_ feel." + +Jan looked at him with a sort of contemptuous wonder that caused him to +redden angrily, but she made no reply. + +He was her guest, he was a broken man, and she knew well that they had +not yet even approached their real difference. + +Two people, however, took Hugo's attitude of profound dejection in the +way he expected and liked it to be taken. These were Mr. Withells and +Hannah. + +Mr. Withells did not bear Jan a grudge because of her momentary lapse +from good manners. In less than a week from the unfortunate interview in +the nut-walk he had decided that she could not properly have understood +him; and that he had, perhaps, sprung upon her too suddenly the high +honour he held in store for her. + +So back he came in his neat little two-seater car to call at Wren's End +as if nothing had happened, and Jan, guiltily conscious that she _had_ +been very rude, was only too thankful to accept the olive-branch in the +spirit in which it was offered. + +He took to coming almost as often as before, and was thoroughly +interested and commiserating when he heard that poor Mrs. Tancred's +husband had come home from India and been taken ill almost immediately +on arrival. He sent some early strawberries grown in barrels in the +houses, and with them a note conjuring Jan "on no account to leave them +in the sickroom overnight, as the smell of fruit was so deleterious." + +Hannah considered Hugo's impenetrable gloom a most proper and husbandly +tribute to the departed. She felt that had there been a Mr. Hannah she +could not have wished him to show more proper feeling had Providence +thought fit to snatch her from his side. So she expressed her admiration +in the strongest of soups, the smoothest of custards, and the most +succulent of mutton-chops. Gladly would she have commanded Mrs. Earley +to slay her fattest cockerels for the nourishment of "yon poor +heartbroken young man," but that she remembered (from her experience of +Fay's only visit) that no one just home from India will give a thank-you +for chickens. + +Jan had cause to bless kind Mr. Withells, for directly Hugo was able for +it, he came with his largest and most comfortable car, driven by his +trustworthy chauffeur, to take the invalid for a run right into +Wiltshire. He pressed Jan to go too, but she pleaded "things to see to" +at home. + +Hugo had seen practically nothing of Meg. She was fully occupied in +keeping the children out of their father's way. Little Fay "pooah +daddied" him when they happened to meet, and Tony stared at him in the +weighing, measuring way Hugo found so trying, but Meg neither looked at +him nor did she address any remark whatever to him unless she positively +could not help it. + +Meg was thoroughly provoked that he should have chosen to turn up just +then. She had been most anxious that Peter should come. Firstly, +because, being sharply observant, she had come to the conclusion that +his visit would be a real pleasure to Jan, and secondly, because she +ardently desired to see him herself that she might judge whether he was +"at all good enough." + +And now her well-loved Jan, instead of looking her best, was growing +thin and haggard, losing her colour, and her sweet serenity, and in +their place a patient, tired expression in her eyes that went to Meg's +heart. + +She had hardly seen Jan alone for over a week; for since Hugo came +downstairs Meg had taken all her meals with the children in the nursery, +while Jan and Hugo had theirs in the rarely-used dining-room. The girls +breakfasted together, as Hugo had his in his room, but as the children +were always present there was small chance of any confidential +conversation. + +The first afternoon Mr. Withells took Hugo for a drive, Meg left her +children in Earley's care the minute she heard the car depart, and went +to look for Jan in the house. + +She found her opening all the windows in the dining-room. Meg shut the +door and sat on the polished table, lit a cigarette and regarded her own +pretty swinging feet with interest. + +"How long does Mr. Tancred propose to stay?" she asked. + +"How can I tell," Jan answered wearily, as she sat down in one of the +deep window-seats. "He has nowhere to go and no money to go with; and, +so far, except for a vague allusion to some tea-plantation in Ceylon, he +has suggested no plans. Oh, yes! I forgot, there was something about +fruit-farming or vine-growing in California, but I fancy considerable +capital would be needed for that." + +"And how much longer do you intend to keep Mr. Ledgard waiting for _his_ +visit?" + +"It would be small pleasure for Mr. Ledgard to come here with Hugo, and +horrid for Hugo, for he knows perfectly well what Peter ... Mr. Ledgard +thinks of him." + +"But if friend Hugo knew Mr. Ledgard was coming, might it not have an +accelerating effect upon his movements? You could give him his +fare--single, mind--to Guernsey. Let him go and stay with his people for +a bit." + +Jan shook her head. "I can't turn him out, Meg; and I'm not going to let +Mr. Ledgard waste his precious leave on an unpleasant visit. If I could +give him a good time it would be different; but after all he did for us +while we were in Bombay, it would be rank ingratitude to let him in for +more worries at home." + +"Perhaps he wouldn't consider them worries. Perhaps he'd _like_ to +come." + +Jan's strained expression relaxed a little and she smiled with her eyes +fixed on Meg's neat swinging feet. "He _says_ he would." + +"Well, then, take him at his word. We can turn the excellent Withells on +to Hugo. Let him instruct Hugo in the importance of daily free +gymnastics after one's bath and the necessity for windows being left +open at the top 'day and night, but _especially_ at night.' Let's tell +that Peter man to come." + +Jan shook her head. + +"No, I've explained the situation to him and begged him not to consider +us any more for the present. We must think of the maids too. You see, +Hugo makes a good deal of extra work, and I'm afraid Hannah might turn +grumpy if there was yet another man to do for." + +Meg thoughtfully blew beautiful rings of smoke, carefully poked a small +finger exactly into the centre of each and continued to swing her feet +in silence. + +Jan leaned her head against the casement and closed her eyes. + +Without so much as a rustle Meg descended from the table. She went over +to Jan and dropped a light kiss on the top of the thick wavy hair that +was so nearly white. Jan opened her tired eyes and smiled. + +This quaint person in the green linen frock and big white apron always +looked so restfully neat and clean, so capable and strong with that +inward shining strength that burns with a steady light. Jan put her arms +round Meg and leaned her head against the admirable apron's cool, smooth +bib. + +"You're here, anyway," she said. "You don't know how I thank God for +that." + +Meg held her close. "Listen to me," she said. "You're going on quite a +wrong tack with that brother-in-law. You are, Jan--I grieve to say +it--standing between him and his children--you don't allow him to see +his children, especially his adored daughter, nearly enough. Now that he +is well enough to take the air with Mr. Withells I propose that we allow +him to _study_ his children--and how can he study them if they are never +left with him? Let him realise what it would be if he had them with him +constantly, and no interfering aunt to keep them in order--do you +understand, Jan? Have you tumbled to it? You are losing a perfectly +magnificent opportunity." + +Jan pushed Meg a little away from her and looked up: "I believe there's +a good deal in what you say." + +"There's everything in what I say. As long as the man was ill one +couldn't, of course, but now we can and will--eh, Jan?" + +"Not Tony," Jan said nervously. "Hugo doesn't care much for Tony, and +I'm always afraid what he may say or do to the child." + +"If you let him have them both occasionally he may discover that Tony +has his points." + +"They're _both_ perfect darlings," Jan said resentfully. Meg laughed and +danced a two-step to the door. + +"They're darlings that need a good deal of diplomatic managing, and if +they don't get it they'll raise Cain. I'm going to take them down to the +post-office directly with my Indian letters. Why not come with us for +the walk?" + + * * * * * + +Hugo quite enjoyed his run with Mr. Withells and Mr. Withells enjoyed +being consulted about Hugo's plans. He felt real sympathy for a young +man whose health, ruined by one bad station after another, had forced +him to give up his career in India. He suggested various ameliorating +treatments to Hugo, who received his advice with respectful gratitude, +and they arranged to drive again together on Saturday, which was next +day but one. + +Hugo sought the sofa in the drawing-room for a quiet hour before dinner +and lit a cigar. He had hardly realised his pleasantly tired and rather +somnolent condition when his daughter entered carrying a large +Teddy-bear, two dolls, a toy trumpet and a box containing a wooden +tea-set. She dropped several of these articles just inside the door. +"Come and help me pick up my sings," she commanded. "I've come to play +wis loo, Daddie." + +Hugo did not move. He was fond of little Fay; he admired her good looks +and her splendid health, but he didn't in the least desire her society +just then. + +"Poor Daddie's tired," he said in his "saddest" tone. "I think you'd +better go and play in the nursery with Tony." + +"No," said little Fay, "Tony's not zere; _loo_ mus' play wis me. +Or"--she added as a happy alternative--"loo can tell me sumfin +instastin." + +"Surely," said Hugo, "it's your bed-time?" + +"No," little Fay answered, and the letters were never formed that could +express the finality of that "no," "Med will fesh me when it's time. +I've come to play wis _loo_. Det up, Daddie; loo can't play p'oply lying +zere." + +"Oh, yes, I can," Hugo protested eagerly. "You bring all your nice toys +one by one and show them to me." + +"'At," she remarked with great scorn, "would be a velly stupid game. Det +up!" + +"Why can't Meg play with you?" Hugo asked irritably. "What's she doing?" + +Little Fay stared at her father. She was unaccustomed to be addressed +in that tone, and she resented it. Earley and Mr. Burgess were her +humble slaves. Captain Middleton did as he was told and became an +elephant, a camel, or a polar bear on the shortest notice, moreover he +threw himself into the part with real goodwill and enjoyment. The lazy +man lying there on the sofa, who showed no flattering pleasure in her +society, must be roused to a sense of his shortcomings. She seized the +Teddy-bear, swung it round her head and brought it down with a +resounding thump on Hugo's chest. "Det up," she said more loudly. "Loo +don't seem to know any stolies, so you _mus'_ play wis me." + +Hugo swung his legs off the sofa and sat up to recover his breath, which +had been knocked out of him by the Teddy-bear. + +"You're a very rude little girl," he said crossly. "You'll have to be +punished if you do that sort of thing." + +"What sort of sing?" + +"What you did just now; it's very naughty indeed." + +"What nelse?" + +Little Fay stood with her head on one side like an inquisitive sparrow. +One of the things she had not dropped was the tin trumpet. She raised it +to her lips now, and blew a blast that went through Hugo's head like a +knife. + +He snatched it from her. "You're not to do that," he said. "I can't +stand it. Go and pick up those other things and show them to me." + +"Loo can see zem from here." + +"Not what's in the box," he suggested diplomatically. + +"I'm tah'ed too," she said, suddenly sitting down on the floor. "You +fesh 'em." + +"Will you play with them if I do?" + +She shook her head. "Not if loo're closs, and lude and naughty and ... +stupid." + +Hugo groaned and stalked over to collect the two dolls and the +tea-things. He brought them back and put them down on one end of the +sofa while he sat down at the other. + +"Now," he said, "show me how you play with them." + +His cigar had gone out and he struck a match to light it again. Little +Fay scrambled to her feet and blew it out before he had touched his +cigar with it. + +"Adain," she said joyously. "Make anozer light." + +He struck another match, but sheltered it with his hand till he'd got +his cigar going, his daughter blowing vigorously all the time. + +"Now," she said, "you can be a nengine and I'll be the tlain." + +Round that drawing-room the unfortunate Hugo ran, encouraged in his +efforts by blasts upon the trumpet. The chairs were arranged as +carriages, the dolls as passengers, and the box of tea-things was +luggage. None of these transformations were suggested by Hugo, but +little Fay had played the game so often under Meg's brilliant +supervision that she knew all the properties by heart. + +At the end of fifteen minutes Hugo was thoroughly exhausted and audibly +thanked God when Meg appeared to fetch her charge. But he hadn't +finished even then, for little Fay, aided and abetted by Meg, insisted +that every single thing should be tidily put back exactly where it was +before. + +At the door, just as they were on the point of departure, Meg paused. +"You must enjoy having her all to yourself for a little while," she said +in honeyed, sympathetic tones such as Hugo, certainly, had never heard +from her before. "I fear we've been rather selfish about it, but for the +future we must not forget that you have the first right to her.... Did +you kiss your dear Daddie, my darling?" + + * * * * * + +Through the shut door Hugo heard his daughter's voice proclaiming in +lofty, pitying tones, "Pooah Daddie velly stupid man, he was a velly bad +nengine, he did it all long." + +"Damn!" said Hugo Tancred. + + * * * * * + +During dinner that night Jan talked continually about the children. She +consulted Hugo as to things in which he took not the smallest interest, +such as what primers he considered the best for earliest instruction in +reading, and whether he thought the Montessori method advantageous or +not. + +As they sat over dessert he volunteered the remark that little Fay was +rather an exhausting child. + +"All children are," Jan answered, "and I've just been thinking that +while you are here to help me, it would be such a good chance to give +Meg a little holiday. She has not had a day off since I came back from +India, and it would be so nice for her to go to Cheltenham for a few +days to see Major Morton." + +"But surely," Hugo said uneasily, "that's what she's here for, to look +after the children. She's very highly paid; you could get a good nurse +for half what you pay her." + +"I doubt it, and you must remember that, because she loved Fay, she is +accepting less than half of what she could earn elsewhere to help me +with Fay's children." + +"Of course, if you import sentiment into the matter you must pay for +it." + +"But I fear that's just what I don't do." + +"My dear Jan, you must forgive me if I venture to think that both you +and your father, and even Fay, were quite absurd about Meg Morton. She's +a nice enough little girl, but nothing so very wonderful, and as for her +needing a holiday after a couple of months of the very soft job she has +with you ... that's sheer nonsense." + +There was silence for a minute. Hugo took another chocolate and said, +"You know I don't believe in having children all over the place. The +nursery is the proper place for them when they're little, and school is +the proper place--most certainly the proper place, anyway, for a boy--as +soon as ever any school can be found to take him." + +"I quite agree with you as to the benefit of a good school," Jan said +sweetly. "I am painfully conscious myself of how much I lost in never +having had any regular education. Have you thought yet what preparatory +school you'd prefer for Tony?" + +"Hardly yet. I've not been home long enough, and, as you know, at +present, I've no money at all...." + +"I shall be most pleased to help with Tony's education, but in that case +I should expect to have some voice in the school selected." + +"Certainly, certainly," Hugo agreed. "But what I really want to know is +what you propose to do to help me to attain a position in which I _can_ +educate my children as we both should wish." + +"I don't quite see where I come in." + +"My dear Jan, that's absurd. You have money--and a few hundreds now will +start me again...." + +"Start you again in what direction?" + +"That's what we've got to thresh out. I've several propositions to lay +before you." + +"All propositions will have to be submitted to Mr. Davidson." + +"That's nonsense. You must remember that I could contest Fay's will if I +liked--it was grossly unfair to leave that two thousand pounds away from +me." + +"She left it to her children, Hugo, and _you_ must remember you spent +eight thousand pounds of her money." + +"_I_ didn't spend it. Do you think _I_ benefited? The investments were +unfortunate, I grant you, but that's not to say I had it." + +"Anyway that money is gone." + +"And the sooner I set about making some more to replace it the better, +but I must have help." + +"It takes every penny of my income to run things here." + +"Well, you know, Jan, to be quite candid, I think it's rather ridiculous +of you to live here. You could let this place easily and for a good +rent. In a smaller house you'd be equally comfortable and in easier +circumstances. I'm not at all sure I approve of my children being +brought up with the false ideas they will inevitably acquire if they +continue to live in a big place like this." + +"You see, Hugo, it happens to be my house, and I'm fond of it." + +"No doubt, but if you make a fetish of the house, if the house stands in +the way of your helping your own flesh and blood...." + +"I don't think I've ever refused to help my _own_ relations." + +"Which means, I suppose, that your sister's husband is nothing to you." + +Jan rose. "You are rather unjust, I think," she said quietly. "I must +put the children first." + +"And suppose you marry----" + +"I certainly wouldn't marry any man who would object to my doing all I +could for my sister's children." + +"You think so now, but wait till a man comes along. You're just getting +to the age, Jan, when a woman is most apt to make a fool of herself over +a man. And, remember this, I'd much rather my children were brought up +simply with my people in Guernsey than that they should grow up with all +sorts of false ideas with nothing to back them." + +Jan clenched her teeth, and though outwardly she was silent, her soul +was repeating, "I _will_ not fear," over and over again. + +"Perhaps you are right, Hugo," she said quietly. "You must arrange as +you think best; only please remember that you can hardly expect me to +contribute to the keeping of the children if I am allowed no voice in +their upbringing. Have you consulted your parents as to their living +with them in Guernsey? Shall we go out? It's such a beautiful evening." + +Hugo followed her into the hall and out into the garden. Involuntarily +he looked after her with considerable admiration. She held herself well, +that quiet woman. She waited for him in the drive, and as she did so +Tony's words came back to her: "I used to feel frightened inside, but I +wouldn't let him know it, and then--it was funny--but quite sunnly I +wasn't frightened any more. You try it." + + * * * * * + +Jan had tried it, and, again to quote Tony, "it just happened." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +"THE WAY OF A MAN WITH A MAID" + + +Peter began to feel annoyed. More and more clearly did he realise that +his chief object in coming home was to see Jan again; and here was he, +still in London in the third week of June, and never so much as a +glimpse of her. + +Her last letter, too, had postponed his visit indefinitely, and he +almost thought she was not treating him quite fairly. It was, of course, +a confounded bore that Hugo Tancred should have turned up just now, but +Peter saw no reason for staying away for ever on that account. He knew +Wren's End was a good-sized house, and though he appreciated Jan's +understanding of the fact that he wouldn't exactly choose to be a +fellow-guest with such a thoroughly bad hat as Hugo Tancred, still he +considered it was laying too much stress upon the finer shades of +feeling to keep him away so long. + +His aunt was delighted to have him; London was very pleasant; he had +dined out quite a number of times, attended some big parties, seen all +the best plays, and bought or ordered all the new clothes he needed, and +a good deal that he didn't need at all. He had also bought a motor to +take out with him. It was more than time to get within range of the main +objective of his leave. + +Suggestions that Jan _must_ have shopping to do and might as well come +up for a day or two to do it only elicited the reply that she had no +money for shopping and that it was most unlikely that she would be in +London again for ages. + +She hadn't answered his last letter, either, which was another +grievance. + +Then came a letter with the Amber Guiting post-mark, and in a +handwriting he did not know--a funny little, clear, square handwriting +with character in every stroke. + +He opened it and read: + + "DEAR MR. LEDGARD, + + "It is just possible you may have heard of me from Mrs. + Tancred or Miss Ross, but in case you haven't I will + explain that I am nurse to the little Tancreds and that + Miss Ross is my dearest friend. I think it would be a very + good thing if you came down to see her, for her + brother-in-law is here, and I am never quite sure what he + might persuade her to do if he put the screw on about the + children. There is a comfortable inn called 'The Green + Hart,' and there's another called 'The Full Basket,' but I + fear you'd not get a room there as it's very small and + always chock-full at this time of year with fishing people. + + "You see, if you came down to 'The Green Hart,' Jan + couldn't say anything, for you've a perfect right to stay + there if you choose, and I know it would help her and + strengthen her hands to talk things over with you. She has + spoken much of your kindness to them all in India. + + "Do you fish, I wonder? I'm sure Squire Walcote would be + amiable to any friend of Jan's. + + "Believe me, yours truly, + + "MARGARET MORTON." + +Peter put the letter in his pocket and left the rest of his +correspondence till after breakfast, and his aunt decided that he really +was a most amusing and agreeable companion, and that she must have been +mistaken last night in thinking he seemed rather depressed and worried. + +After breakfast he went out to send a reply-paid telegram, and then to +the garage, where he kept his car. Among other places he drove to "Hardy +Brothers" in Pall Mall, where he stayed over an hour. + +By the time he got back to Artillery Mansions it was lunch time. More +letters awaited him, also a telegram. + +During lunch he mentioned casually that he was going down into the +country for the week-end to fish. He was going to motor down. + +"Yes," in answer to his aunt's inquiry, "I do know people down there, +but I'm not going to stay with them. I'm going to the inn--one's freer, +you know, and if the sport's good I may stay on a few days." + + * * * * * + +Mr. Withells came again for Hugo on Saturday morning and proposed a run +right over to Cheltenham for a rose show. Hugo declined the rose show, +but gratefully accepted the drive. He would potter about the town while +Mr. Withells inspected the flowers. The Grange head-gardener had +several exhibits, and was to be taken on the front seat. + +They started soon after breakfast and would be gone the whole day, for +it was an hour and three-quarters run by road and two by train. + +"I wish he had offered to take you," Jan said to Meg when the big motor +had vanished out of the drive. "It would have been so nice for you to +see Major Morton." + +"And sit bodkin between Hugo and Mr. Withells or on one of those horrid +little folding-seats--no, thank you! When I go to see my poor little +papa I shall go by train by myself. I'll choose a day when their dear +father can help you with the children." + +After lunch Meg began to find fault with Jan's appearance. "I simply +won't see you in that old grey skirt a minute longer--go and put on a +white frock--a nice white frock. You've got plenty." + +"Who is always grumbling about the washing? Besides, I want to garden." + +"You can't garden this afternoon. On such a lovely day it's your duty to +dress in accordance with it. I'm going to clean up my children, and then +we'll all go down to the post-office to buy stamps and show ourselves. +_You_ ought to call on Lady Mary--you know you ought. Go and change, and +then come and see if I approve of you. You might leave a card at the +vicarage, too. I know they're going to the rose show, so you'd be quite +safe." + +"You're a nuisance, Meg," Jan complained. "Let you and little Fay go +swanking down the village if you like, but why can't you leave Tony and +me to potter comfortably in our old clothes?" + +"I'm tired of your old clothes; I want you to look decent for once. You +haven't done anything I asked you for ages. You might as well do this." + +Jan sighed. "It seems rather absurd when you yourself say every soul we +know will be at the flower show." + +"I never said anything of the kind. I said Mrs. Fream was going to the +flower show. Hurry up, Jan." + + * * * * * + +"Well, will I do? Will I satisfy the hedges and ditches, do you think?" +Jan asked later, as she appeared in the hall clad in the white raiment +Meg had commanded. + +Meg turned her round. "Very nice indeed," she said. "I'm glad you put on +the expensive one. It's funny why the very plain things cost such a lot. +I like the black hat with your white hair. Yes, I consent to take you +out; I don't mind owning you for my missus. Children, come and admire +Auntie Jan." + +Jan dutifully delivered a card at the vicarage, and the nursery party +left her to walk up the Manor drive alone. Lady Mary was in, and pleased +to see her, but she only stayed a quarter of an hour, because Meg had +made her promise to meet them again in the village. They were to have +tea in the garden with the children and make it a little festival. + +What a funny little thing Meg was, she thought as she strolled down the +drive under the splendid beeches. So determined to have her own way in +small things, such an incarnation of self-sacrifice in big ones. + +A man was standing just outside the great gates in a patch of black +shade thrown by a holly-tree in the lodge garden. Jan was long-sighted, +and something in the figure and its pose caused her to stop suddenly. He +wore the usual grey summer suit and a straw hat. Yet he reminded her of +somebody, but him she had always seen in a topee, out of doors. + +Of course it was only a resemblance--but what was he waiting there for? + +He moved out from the patch of shade and looked up the drive through the +open gates. He took off his hat and waved it, and came quickly towards +her. + +"I couldn't wait any longer," he said. "I won't be the least bit of a +nuisance. I've come to fish, and I'm staying at 'The Green Hart'.... And +how are you?" + +She could never make it out, when she thought it over afterwards, but +Jan found herself standing with both her hands in his and her beautiful +black parasol tumbled unheeded in the dust. + +"I happened to meet the children and Miss Morton, and they asked me to +tell you they've gone home. They also invited me to tea." + +"So do I," said Jan. + +"I should hardly have known Tony," he continued; "he looks capital. And +as for little Fay--she's a picture, but she always was." + +"Did they know you?" + +"_Did_ they know me!" + +"Were they awfully pleased?" + +"They were ever so jolly; even Tony shouted." + +At the lodge they met the Squire. Jan introduced Peter and explained +that he had just come down for a few days' fishing and was staying at +"The Green Hart." The Squire proffered advice as to the best flies and a +warning that he must not hope for much sport. The Amber was a difficult +river, very; and variable; and it had been a particularly dry June. + +Peter bore up under this depressing intelligence and he and Jan walked +on through warm, scented lanes to Wren's End; and Peter looked at Jan a +good deal. + +Those who happened to be in London during the season of 1914 will +remember that it was a period of powder and paint and frankest +touching-up of complexions. The young and pretty were blackened and +whitened and reddened quite as crudely as the old and ugly. There was no +attempt at concealment. The faces of many Mayfair ladies filled Peter +with disrespectful astonishment. He had not been home for four years, +and then nice girls didn't do that sort of thing--much. + +Now one of Jan's best points was her complexion; it was so fair and +fresh. The touch of sunburn, too, was becoming, for she didn't freckle. + +Peter found himself positively thankful to behold a really clean face; +a face, too, that just then positively beamed with warm welcome and +frank pleasure. + +A clean face; a cool, clean frock; kind, candid eyes and a gentle, +sincere voice--yes, they were all there just as he remembered them, just +as he had so often dreamt of them. Moreover, he decided there and then +that the Georgian ladies knew what they were about when they powdered +their hair--white hair, he thought, was extraordinarily becoming to a +woman. + +"You are looking better than when I was in Bombay. I think your leave +must have done you good already," said the kind, friendly voice. + +"I need a spell of country air, really to set me up," said Peter. + +They had an hilarious tea with the children on the Wren's lawn, and the +tamest of the robins hopped about on the step just to show that he +didn't care a fig for any of them. + +Meg was just going to take the children to bed when Mr. Withells brought +Hugo back. It was an awkward moment. Peter knew far too much about Hugo +to simulate the smallest cordiality; and Hugo was too well aware of some +of the things Peter knew to feel at all comfortable in his presence. But +he had no intention of giving way an inch. He took the chair Meg had +just vacated and sat down. Mr. Withells, too, sat down for a few +minutes, and no sooner had he done so than William dashed out from +amongst them, and, returning, was accompanied by Captain Middleton. + +"No tea, thank you. Just got down from town, came with a message from +my uncle--would Miss Ross's friend care for a rod on the Manor water on +Monday? A brother officer who had been coming had failed at the last +minute--there was room for four rods, but there wasn't a chance of much +sport." + +Miles was introduced to Peter and sat down by him. The children rushed +at Miles and, ably impeded by William, swarmed over him in riotous +welcome, wholly regardless of their nurse's voice which summoned them to +bed. + +Meg stood waiting. + +"Miss Morton's father lives in Cheltenham," Jan said to Mr. Withells, +who seemed rather left out. "She's going to see him on Tuesday--to spend +the day." + +"Then," said Mr. Withells in his clear staccato, "she must take the +9.15--it's much the best train in the day. And the 4.55 back. No other +trains are at all suitable. I hope you will be guided by me in this +matter, Miss Morton. I've made the journey many times." + +So had Meg; but Mr. Withells always irritated her to such an extent that +had it been possible, she would have declared her intention to go and +return by quite different trains. As it was, she nodded pleasantly and +said those were the very trains she had selected. + +Miles thrust his head out from among the encompassing three and +respectfully implored Mr. Withells' advice about trains to Cricklade, +which lay off the Cheltenham route, even going so far as to note the +hours of departure and arrival carefully in a little book. + +Finally Meg came and disencumbered Miles of the children and bore them +away. + +When her voice took on a certain tone it was as useless to cope with Meg +as with Auntie Jan. They knew this, and like wise children gave in +gracefully. + +Elaborate farewells had to be said to everybody, and with a final warm +embrace for Miles, little Fay called to him "Tum and see me in my baff." + +"Captain Middleton will have gone long before you are ready for that," +Meg said inhospitably, and trying to look very tall and dignified she +walked up the three steps leading to the nursery. But it is almost +impossible to look imposing with a lagging child dragging at each hand, +and poor Meg felt that her exit was far from effective. + +William settled himself comfortably across his master's knees and in two +minutes was snoring softly. + +Miles manifested so keen an interest in Mr. Withells' exhibits (he had +got a second prize and a highly commended) that the kindly little man +was quite attracted; and when Miles inquired about trains to Cheltenham +he gave him precisely the same advice that he had given Meg. + + * * * * * * * * + +The station at Amber Guiting is seldom crowded; it's on a shuttle line, +and except on market-day there is but little passenger traffic. + +Therefore a small young lady with rather conspicuously red hair, a neat +grey coat and skirt, a shady grey straw hat trimmed with white clover +and green leaves, and a green parasol, was noticeable upon the platform +out of all proportion to her size. + +The train was waiting. The lady entered an empty third-class carriage, +and sitting in the corner with her back to the engine, shut herself in. +The train departed punctually, and she took out from her bag a note-book +which she studied with frowning concentration. + +Ten minutes further down the line the train stops again at Guiting +Green, and here the young lady looked out of the window to see whether +anyone was travelling that she recognised. + +There was. But it was impossible to judge from the young lady's +expression whether the recognition gave her pleasure or not. + +She drew in her head very quickly, but not before she had been seen. + +"Hullo, Miss Morton! Where are you going? May I get in here?" + +"Aren't you travelling first?" + +"Not a bit of it. Sure you don't mind? How jolly to have met you!" + +Miles looked so smiling, so big and well turned out, and pleased with +life, that Meg's severe expression relaxed somewhat. + +"I suppose," she said, "you're just going to the junction. But why come +to Guiting Green?" + +"I came to Guiting Green because it's exactly four miles from the Manor +House. And I've walked those four miles, Miss Morton, walked 'em for +the good of my health. Wish it wasn't so dusty, though--look at my +boots! _I'm_ going to Cheltenham. Where are you going?" + +"Cheltenham?" Meg repeated suspiciously. "What are you going to do +there?" + +"I'm going to see about a horse--not a dog this time--I hear that +Smith's have got a horse that may suit me; really up to my weight they +say it is, so I took the chance of going over while I'm with my +uncle--it's a lot nearer than town, you know. But where are _you_ +going?" + +"I," said Meg, "am going to Cheltenham----" + +"To Cheltenham!" Miles exclaimed in rather overdone astonishment. "What +an extraordinary coincidence! And what are _you_ going to buy in +Cheltenham?" + +"I am going to see my father. I thought I had told you he lives there." + +"So you did, of course. How stupid of me to forget! Well, it's very +jolly we should happen to be going down together, isn't it?" + +They looked at one another, and Miles laughed. + +"I'm not at all sure that we ought to travel together after we reach the +junction, and I don't believe you've got a third-class ticket." Meg +looked very prim. + +Miles produced his ticket--it _was_ third-class. + +"There!" he said triumphantly. + +"You would be much more comfortable in a smoker." + +"So would you. We'll take a smoker; I've got the sort of cigarette you +like." + +At the junction they got a smoker, and Miles saw to it that they had it +to themselves; he also persuaded the guard to give Meg a square wooden +box to put her feet on, because he thought the seats were too high for +her. + +It seemed a very short journey. + +Major Morton was awaiting Meg when they arrived; a little gentleman +immaculately neat (it was quite clear whence Meg got her love of detail +and finish)--who looked both washed-out and dried-up. He embraced her +with considerable solemnity, exclaiming, "God bless you, my dear child! +You look better than I expected." + +"Papa, dear, here is Captain Middleton, a friend from Amber Guiting. We +happened to travel together." + +"Pleased to meet you, sir," said the little Major graciously; and +somehow Miles contrived in two minutes so to ingratiate himself with +Meg's "poor little papa" that they all walked out of the station +together as a matter of course. + +Then came the question of plans. + +Meg had shopping to do, declared she had a list as long as her arm, but +was entirely at her father's disposal as to whether she should do it +before or after lunch. + +Miles boldly suggested she should do it now, at once, while it was still +fairly cool, and then she could have all her parcels sent to the station +to meet her. He seemed quite eager to get rid of Meg. The little Major +agreed that this would be the best course. He would stroll round to his +club while Meg was shopping, and meet her when she thought she would +have finished. They walked to the promenade and dropped her at Cavendish +House. Miles, explaining that he had to go to Smith's to look at a +horse, asked for directions from the Major. Their way was the same, and +without so much as bidding her farewell, Miles strolled up one of the +prettiest promenades in England in company with her father. Meg felt +rather dazed. + +She prided herself on having reduced shopping to a fine art, but to-day, +somehow, she didn't get through as quickly as usual, and there was a +number of items on her list still unticked when it was time to meet her +father just outside his club at the top of the promenade. + +Major Morton was the essence of punctuality. Meg flew to meet him, and +found he had waited five minutes. He was not, however, upset, as might +have been expected. He took her to his rooms in a quiet terrace behind +the promenade and comfortably near his club. The sun-blinds were down +outside his sitting-room windows, and the room seemed cool and pleasant. + +Then it was that Meg discovered that her father was looking at her in +quite a new way. Almost, in fact, as though he had never seen her +before. + +Was it her short hair? she wondered. + +Yet that was not very noticeable under such a shady hat. + +Major Morton had vigorously opposed the nursemaid scheme. To the +sympathetic ladies who attended the same strictly evangelical church of +which he was a pillar, he confided that his only daughter did not care +for "a quiet domestic life." It was a grief to him--but, after all, +parents are shelved nowadays; every girl wants to "live her own life," +and he would be the last man to stand in the way of his child's +happiness. The ladies felt very sorry for Major Morton and indignant +with the hard-hearted, unfilial Meg. They did not realise that had Meg +lived with her father--in rooms--and earned nothing, the Major's +delicate digestion might occasionally have suffered, and Meg would +undoubtedly have been half-starved. + +To-day, however, he was more hopeful about Meg than he had been for a +long time. Since the Trent episode he had ceased even to imagine her +possible marriage. By her own headstrong folly she had ruined all her +chances. "The weariful rich" who had got her the post did not spare him +this aspect of her deplorable conduct. To-day, however, there was a rift +in these dark clouds of consequence. + +Captain Middleton--he only knows how--had persuaded Major Morton to go +with him to see the horse, had asked his quite useless advice, and had +subtly and insidiously conveyed to the Major, without one single +incriminating sentence, a very clear idea as to his own feelings for the +Major's daughter. + +Major Morton felt cheered. + +He had no idea who Miles really was, but he had remarked the gunner tie, +and, asking to what part of the Royal Regiment Miles belonged, decided +that no mere pauper could be a Horse-Gunner. + +He regarded his daughter with new eyes. + +She was undoubtedly attractive. He discovered certain resemblances to +himself that he had never noticed before. + +Then he informed her that he had promised they would both lunch with her +agreeable friend at the Queen's Hotel: "He made such a point of it," +said Major Morton, "I could hardly refuse; begged us to take pity on his +loneliness, and so on--and I'm feeling rather better to-day." + +Meg decided that the tide of fate was too strong for her, she must just +drift with it. + +It was a most pleasant lunch, save for one incident. Lady Penelope +Pottinger and her husband, accompanied by Lottie Trent and a man, were +lunching at another table. + +Lady Penelope's party came in late. Miles and his guests had already +arrived at coffee when they appeared. + +They had to pass Miles' table, and Lady Penelope stopped; so did her +husband. She shook hands with Meg. Miss Trent passed by with her nose in +the air. + +Miles presented his relations to the Major and they passed on. + +The Major was quite pleased and rather flattered. He had no idea that +the tall young woman with Lady Penelope had deliberately cut his host. +But Meg knew just why she had done it. + +After lunch Miles very properly effaced himself, but made a point of +asking the Major if he might act as Miss Morton's escort on the journey +back to Amber Guiting. + +The Major graciously accompanied Meg while she did the rest of her +shopping, and in the promenade they met the Pottinger party again. + +The 4.55 was crowded. Miles collected Meg's parcels and suggested to the +Major that it would be less tiring for his daughter if they returned +first-class. Should he change the tickets? + +The Major thought it a sensible proposition, especially with all those +parcels. Meg would pay Captain Middleton the difference. + +Again an amiable porter secured them an empty carriage. The parcels +spread themselves luxuriously upon the unoccupied seats. The Major +kissed his daughter and gave her his benediction, shaking hands quite +warmly with her "pleasant young friend." + +The 4.55 runs right up to the junction without a stop. Meg took off her +best hat and placed it carefully in the rack. She leaned her bewildered +head against the cushions and closed her eyes. She would drift with the +tide just a few minutes more, and then---- + +Miles put a box of groceries for Lady Mary under her feet. She smiled +faintly, but did not speak. + +Presently she opened her eyes to find him regarding her with that +expression she had surprised once or twice before, and never understood. + +"Tired?" he asked. + +"Only pleasantly. I think I've only travelled first-class about five +times in my life before--and then it was with Mr. Ross." + +"And now it's with me, and I hope it's the first of many." + +"You say very odd things." + +"What I mean isn't in the least odd--it's the most natural thing in the +world." + +"What is?" + +"To want to go on travelling with you." + +"If you're going to talk nonsense, I shall go to sleep again." + +"No, I don't think I can allow you to go to sleep. I want you to wake up +and face facts." + +"Facts?" + +"A fact." + +"Facts are sometimes very unpleasant." + +"I hope the fact I want you to face isn't exactly that--if it is ... +then I'm ... a jolly miserable chap. Miss Morton--Meg--you must see how +it is with me--you must know that you're dearer to me than anything on +earth. I think your father tumbled to it--and I don't think he minded +... that I should want you for my wife." + +"My poor little papa would be relieved to think that anyone could...." + +"Could what?" + +"Care for me ... in that way." + +"Nonsense! But I'm exceedingly glad to have met your father." + +"Why?" + +"Because I wanted to meet him." + +"Again, why?" + +"Because he's your father." + +"Did you observe that Miss Lotty Trent cut you dead at the Queen's +to-day?" + +"I did notice it, and, like you, I wonder why." + +"I can tell you." + +"I don't think you'd better bother. Miss Trent's opinion of me really +doesn't matter----" + +"It was because you were with me." + +"But what a silly reason--if it is a reason." + +"Captain Middleton, will you answer a question quite truthfully?" + +"I'll try." + +"What have you heard about me in connection with the Trents?" + +"Not much, and that I don't believe." + +"But you must believe it, some of it. It may not be so bad--as it might +have been--but I put myself entirely in the wrong. I deceived Mrs. Trent +and I did a thing no girl in her senses ought to have done." + +"Look here, Meg," said Miles, leaning forward. "I don't want to know +anything you don't choose to tell me; but since you _are_ on the +subject--what did happen between you and that ... and Walter Brooke?" + +Meg, too, leant forward; the express swayed and lurched. Their faces +were very near; their eyes met and held each other in a long, searching +gaze on the one side and an answering look of absolute candour on the +other. + +"I promised to go away with him, and I went away a few miles, and +something came over me that I couldn't go any further, and I broke my +promise and ran away. Jan knows it's true, for it was to them I went. +But the Trents would never believe it, though Mr. Ross saw Mrs. Trent +herself, and told her exactly what had happened. And I daresay ... they +are quite justified." + +"And how many times have you seen him since?" + +"Never till the other day, when he nearly ran over William." + +"And how long ago is it since all this happened?" + +"Nearly six years." + +"Don't you think it's about time you put it all out of your mind?" + +"I had put it out of my mind ... till ... you came." + +"It didn't make any difference to me." + +"I shall never forget that," Meg said, so low that the rattle of the +train wholly drowned her remark, but it couldn't conceal her smile. + +Miles lost his head. He kneeled down plump on the floor of that +compartment and took her in his arms and kissed her. + + * * * * * * * * + +"All the same, I don't believe I can marry you," she said later. + +"Why on earth not?" + +"Because I don't think I'm a suitable wife for you." + +"Surely I'm the best judge of that." + +"No, you're not a judge at all. You think you're in love with me...." + +"I'm hanged if I do--I _know_." + +"Because you're sorry for me----" + +"On the contrary, I'm sorry for myself. I think you're a hard-hearted +... obstinate ... little...." + +Mr. Withells would have been scandalised at the conduct of Miles. He +would undoubtedly have described it as both "insanitary and improper." + +"Oh, please listen!" Meg gasped. "Perhaps a long time hence ... if +you're still of the same mind...." + +"Anyway, may I tell people?" + +"Not a soul. I won't have my Jan worried just now. I've undertaken those +children ... and she's having a bad time with that brother-in-law----" + +"I say, Meg, what is it about that chap Tancred? I can't stick him.... +Is he a bad egg, or what?" + +"He is...." + +"Poor Miss Ross! But why does she have him there?" + +"Oh, it's a long story--and here we are at the junction, and I'm not +going on first to Amber Guiting--so there!" + + * * * * * + +Jan in the pony-cart was waiting outside when Meg came from the little +station. Captain Middleton followed in her train, laden with parcels +like a Father Christmas. + +He packed her and the parcels in, covered both the ladies with the +dust-holland, announced that he had bought a charger, and waited to get +into the Manor motor till they had driven out of the station. + +They neither of them spoke till they had turned into the road. Then Jan +quoted softly: "When I go to see my poor little papa, I shall go by +train _by myself_." + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +A DEMONSTRATION IN FORCE + + +Hugo was dissatisfied. So far, beyond a miserable ten pounds to buy some +clothes, he had got no money out of Jan; and he was getting bored. + +To be sure, he still had most of the ten pounds, for he had gone and +ordered everything in the market-town, where the name of Ross was +considered safe as the Bank of England. So he hadn't paid for anything. + +Then there was that fellow Ledgard--what did he want hanging about, +pretending to fish? He was after Jan and her money, that was his game. + +But however clear Peter Ledgard's nefarious intentions might be, Hugo +confessed his sister-in-law puzzled him. She wasn't nearly as much +afraid of him as he had expected. She was always gentle and courteous, +but under the soft exterior he had occasionally felt a rock of +determination, that was disconcerting. + +He had ceased to harp upon the string of his desolation. Somehow Jan +contrived to show him that she didn't believe in it, and yet she never +said one word to which he could take exception. + +It was awkward that his own people were all of them so unsympathetic +about the children. His father and mother declared themselves to be too +old to undertake them unless Hugo could pay liberally for their board +and for a thoroughly capable nurse. Neither of his sisters would +entertain the idea at all; and both wrote pointing out that until Hugo +was able to make a home for them himself, he would be most foolish to +interfere with the arrangements of a devoted aunt who appeared not only +willing but anxious to assume their entire maintenance. + +He had told his people that his health forced him to relinquish his work +in India. His brothers-in-law, although they had no idea of the real +cause, thought there was something fishy about this, and were +unsympathetic. + +Peter got at the doctor, and the doctor declared sea-air to be the one +thing necessary to insure Hugo's complete restoration to health. Jan +happened to mention that her brother-in-law's people lived in Guernsey, +close to the shore. The doctor said he couldn't do better than go and +stay with them, and that the journey wouldn't hurt him a bit. + +Still Hugo appeared reluctant to leave Wren's End. + +Peter came one day and demanded a business talk with him. It was a most +unpleasant conversation. Peter declared on Jan's behalf that she was +quite ready to help him to some new start in life, but that if it meant +a partnership in any rubber plantation, fruit-farm, or business of any +sort whatsoever, the money required must be paid through her lawyer +directly into the hands of the planter, farmer, or merchant concerned. + +Hugo declared such an offer to be an insult. Peter replied that it was +a great deal better than he deserved or could expect; and that he, +personally, thought Miss Ross very silly to make it; but she did make +it, and attached to its acceptance was a clause to the effect that until +he could show he was in a position to maintain his family in comfort, he +was to give their aunt an undertaking that he would not interfere with +her arrangements for the welfare of the children. + +"I see no reason," said Hugo, "why you should interfere between my +sister-in-law and me, but, of course, any fool could see what you're +after. _You_ want her money, and when you've married her, I suppose my +poor children are to be thrown out into the street, and me too far off +to see after them." + +"Up to now," Peter retorted, "you have shown no particular desire to +'see after' your children. Why are you such a fool, Tancred? Why don't +you thankfully accept Miss Ross's generous offer, and try to make a +fresh start?" + +"It's no business of yours what I do." + +"Certainly not, but your sister-in-law's peace and happiness is my +business, because I have the greatest admiration, respect and liking for +her." + +"_Les beaux yeux de sa cassette_," growled Hugo. + +"You _are_ an ass," Peter said wearily. "And you know very little of +Miss Ross if you haven't seen by this time ..." Peter stopped. + +"Well, go on." + +"No," said Peter, "I won't go on, for it's running my horses on a rock. +Think it over, that's all. But remember the offer does not remain open +indefinitely." + +"Well, and if I choose to refuse it and go to law and _take_ my +children--what then?" + +"No court in England would give you their custody." + +"Why not?" + +"Because you couldn't show means to support them, and we could produce +witnesses to prove that you are not a fit person to have the custody of +children." + +"We should see about that." + +"Well, think it over. It's your affair, you know." And Peter went away, +leaving Hugo to curse and bite his nails in impotent rage. Peter really +was far from conciliatory. + +Jan needed a fright, Hugo decided; that's what she wanted to bring her +to heel. And before very long he'd see that she got it. She shouldn't +shelter herself for ever behind that supercilious beast, Ledgard. Hugo +was quite ready to have been pleasant to Jan and to have met her more +than half-way if she was reasonable, but since she had chosen to bring +Ledgard into it, she should pay. After all, she was only a woman, and +you can always frighten a woman if you go the right way about it. It was +damned bad luck that Ledgard should have turned up just now. It was +Ledgard he'd got to thank that Fay had made that infamously unjust will +by which she left the remnant of her money to her children and not to +her husband. Oh yes! he'd a lot to thank Ledgard for. Well, he wouldn't +like it when Jan got hurt. Ledgard was odd about women. He couldn't +bear to see them worried; he couldn't bear to see Fay worried, +interfered then. A blank, blank, blank interfering chap, Ledgard was. +_What Jan needed was a real good scare._ + +They suggested Guernsey. Well, he'd go to Guernsey, and he wouldn't go +alone. Hugo thoroughly enjoyed a plot. The twilight world that had been +so difficult and perplexing to poor Fay had for him a sort of exciting +charm. Wren's End had become dreadfully dull. For the first week or two, +while he felt so ill, it had been restful. Now its regular hours and +ordered tranquillity were getting on his nerves. All those portraits of +his wife, too, worried him. He could go into no room where the lovely +face, with youth's wistful wonder as to what life held, did not confront +him with a reminder that the wife he had left to die in Bombay did not +look in the least like that. + +There were few things in his life save miscalculation that he regretted. +But he did feel uncomfortable when he remembered Fay--so trustful +always, so ready to help him in any difficulty. People liked her; even +women liked her in spite of her good looks, and Hugo had found the world +a hard, unfriendly place since her death. + +The whole thing was getting on his nerves. It was time to shuffle the +cards and have a new deal. + +He packed his suit-case which had been so empty when he arrived, and +waited for a day when Peter had taken Jan, Meg and the children for a +motor run to a neighbouring town. He took care to see that Earley was +duly busy in the kitchen garden, and the maids safely at the back of the +house. Then he carried it to the lodge gate himself and waited for a +passing tradesman's cart. Fortune favoured him; the butcher came up with +(had Hugo known it) veal cutlets for Hugo's own dinner. Hugo tipped the +butcher and asked him to leave the suit-case at the station to be sent +on as carted luggage to its address. + +Next morning he learned that Tony was to go with Earley to fetch extra +cream from Mr. Burgess' farm. + +It was unfortunate that he couldn't get any of Tony's clothes without +causing comment. He had tried the day before, but beyond a jersey and +two little vests (which happened to be little Fay's), he had been unable +to find anything. Well, Jan would be glad enough to send Tony's clothes +when he let her know where they were to be sent. Tony had changed a good +deal from the silent, solemn child he had disliked in India. He was +franker and more talkative. Sometimes Hugo felt that the child wasn't +such a bad little chap, after all. But the very evident understanding +between Jan and Tony filled Hugo with a dull sort of jealousy. He had +never tried to win the child, but nevertheless he resented the fact that +Tony's attitude to Jan and Meg was one of perfect trust and +friendliness. He never looked at them with the strange judging, weighing +look that Hugo hated so heartily. + +He strolled into the drive and waited. Meg and Jan were busy in the +day-nursery, making the little garments that were outgrown so fast. +Little Fay was playing on the Wren's lawn and singing to herself: + + The fox went out one moonlight night, + And he played to the moon to give him light, + For he had a long way to tlot that night + Before he could leach his den-oh. + +Hugo listened for a minute. What a clear voice the child had. He would +like to have taken little Fay, but already he stood in wholesome awe of +his daughter. She could use her thoroughly sound lungs for other +purposes than song, and she hadn't the smallest scruple about drawing +universal attention to any grievance. Now Tony would never make a scene. +Hugo recognised and admired that quality in his queer little son. He did +not know that Tony already ruled his little life by a categorical +imperative of things a sahib must not do. + +At the drive gate he met Earley carrying the can of cream, with Tony +trotting by his side. + +"I'm going into the village, Tony, and Auntie Jan says you may as well +come with me for company. Will you come?" + +Tony looked dubious. Still, he remembered that Auntie Jan had said he +must try and be kind to poor Daddie, who had been so ill and was so sad. + +"All right," he said with a little sigh, and took the hand Hugo held +out. + +"He'll be quite safe with me, Earley," Hugo said with a pleasant smile. +"Miss Ross knows I'm going to take him." + +Nevertheless Earley went to the back door and asked Hannah to inform her +mistress that "Mr. Tancred had taken Mazter Tony along of 'im." + +Hannah was busy, and serene in her conception of Hugo as the sorrowing +widower, did not think the fact that Tony had gone for a walk with his +own father was worth a journey to the day-nursery. + +"How would you like a ride down to the junction?" Hugo said. "I believe +we could just catch a train if we take the omnibus at 'The Green Hart.' +I want to make inquiries about something for Auntie Jan." + +Tony loved trains; he had only been twice to the junction since he came +to Wren's End; it was a fascinating place. Daddie seemed in an agreeable +mood this morning. Auntie Jan would be pleased that he should be nice to +him. + +It all fell out as if the fates had arranged things for Hugo. They saw +very few people in the village; only one old woman accompanied them in +the bus; he heard his father ask for a ticket to the junction, and they +arrived without incident of any kind. + +The junction, however, was busy. There were quite a lot of people, and +when Hugo went to the ticket-office he had to stand in a queue of others +while Tony waited outside the long row. + +Suddenly Tony began to wonder why his father should go to the +ticket-office at all to inquire for a parcel. Tony was observant, and +just because everything was so different from things in India small +incidents were impressed upon his mind. If his father was going on +anywhere else, he wasn't going; for Peter had promised to take them out +in his car again that afternoon. When Hugo reached the window of the +ticket-office Tony heard something about Paddington. + +That decided him. Nothing would induce him to go to Paddington. + +He pushed his way among the crowd and ran for dear life up the stairs, +and over the bridge to the other platform where the train for Amber +Guiting was still waiting, lonely and deserted. He knew that train. It +went up and down all day, for Amber Guiting was the terminus. No one was +on the platform as he ran along. With the sure instinct of the hunted he +passed the carriages with their shut doors. Right at the end was a van +with empty milk-cans. He had seen a porter putting them in the moment +the train stopped. Tony darted into the van and crouched down between +the milk-cans and the wall. He thought of getting into one of them. The +story of Morgiana and the Forty Thieves was clear in his mind, for Meg +had told it to them the night before. But the cans were so high and +narrow he decided that it was impossible. Someone slammed the door of +the van. There came a bump and a jar, and the train moved out onto a +siding till it should go back to Amber Guiting when the 1.30 from London +came in. Tony sat quite still in the dark, stuffy van. His little heart +was beating with hammer strokes against his ribs, but his face expressed +nothing but scorn. + +Again his father had lied to him. Again he had said he was going to do +one thing when he fully intended to do another. The pleasantness, the +kindliness, the apparent desire for Tony's society were a cheat. Tony +spoke rapidly to himself in Hindustani, and by the time he had finished +expressing his views Hugo Tancred hadn't a shred of character left. + +He didn't know when the train would go back to Amber Guiting. It might +not be till evening. Tony could wait. Some time it would go back, and +once in that dear, safe place all would be well. + +He disliked the sound of Paddington; it had to do with London, he knew. +He didn't mind London, but he wasn't going there with his father, and no +Meg and no Jan and no little Fay and no kind sahibs who were _real_ +sahibs. + +He was very hungry, and his eyes grew a bit misty as he thought of +little Fay consuming scones and milk at the "elevens" Meg was always so +careful they should have. + +A new and troubling thought perturbed him. Did Auntie Jan know he had +gone at all? Would she be frightened? Would she get that look on her +dear face that he couldn't bear to see? That Auntie Jan loved them both +with her whole heart was now one of the fixed stars in Tony's firmament +of beliefs. He began to think that perhaps it would be better for Auntie +Jan to give his father some of her twinkly things and let him go away +and leave them in peace; but he dismissed that thought as cowardly and +unworthy of a sahib. + +Oh, dear! it was very long sitting in the dark, scrunched up behind +those cans. He must tell himself stories to pass the time; and he +started to relate the interminable legend of Cocky-locky and Henny-Penny +who by their superior subtlety evaded the snares set for them by +Toddy-Loddy the fox. He felt a sort of kinship with those harried fowls. +Gradually the constant repetition of the various other birds involved, +"Juckie-Puckie, Goosie-Loosie, Turkey-lurkey and Swannie-Lonnie," had a +soothing effect, and Tony fell asleep. + + * * * * * + +Meanwhile Hugo had hunted through every corner of the four platforms; he +had even gone to look for the Amber Guiting train, but was told it +always was moved on to a siding directly it had discharged its +passengers. + +It was mysterious, it was profoundly annoying, but it was not, to Hugo, +alarming. He suspected that Peter Ledgard was in some way mixed up in +it; that he, himself, had been shadowed and that Peter had stolen Tony +in the crowd. In his mistrustful wrath he endowed Peter with such +abnormal foresight and acumen as he certainly did not possess. + +It really was an impossible situation. Hugo could not go about asking +porters and people for a lost child, or the neighbourhood would be +roused. He couldn't go back to Wren's End without Tony, or there would +be the devil to pay. He even got a porter to look in every carriage of +the side-tracked train for a mythical despatch-case, and accompanied him +in his search. Naturally they didn't seek a despatch-case in the van. + +He had lost his train, but there was another, very slow, about +three-quarters of an hour later, and this he decided to take. He would +telegraph to Jan from London. Somehow he was not in the least concerned +about the fate of Tony. Peter and Peter's car had something to do with +this mysterious disappearance. He was sure of that. + +Well, if this particular deal had failed, he must shuffle the cards and +deal again. In any case Jan should see that where his children were +concerned he was not to be trifled with. + +He was sorry, though, he had bought the half-ticket for Tony, and to ask +them to take it back might cause comment. + +As the slow train steamed out from the junction Hugo felt a very +ill-used man. + + * * * * * + +At eleven o'clock Anne Chitt brought in the tray with two cups of milk +and a plate of Hannah's excellent scones. + +"Please go into the kitchen garden and ask Master Tony to come for his +lunch," Jan said. + +Presently Anne returned. "Master Tony ain't in the garden, miss; and +'Annah says as 'e most likely ain't back yet, miss." + +"Back! Back from where?" + +"Please, miss, 'Annah says as 'is pa've took him with him down the +village." + +Jan laid her sewing on the table and got up. + +"Is Earley in the garden?" + +"Yes, miss. I ast Earley an' 'e says the same as 'Annah. Mr. Tancred +'ave took Master Tony with 'im." + +Anne went away, and Jan and Meg, who had stopped her machining to +listen, stared at each other across the table. + +"I suppose they'll be back directly," Jan said uneasily. "I'll go and +ask Earley when Hugo took Tony." + +"He got up to breakfast to-day for the first time," Meg remarked +irrelevantly. + +Jan went out into the Wrens' garden and through Anthony's gate. She +fumbled at the catch, for her hands trembled. + +Earley was picking peas. + +"What time did Mr. Tancred take Master Tony?" she asked. + +"Just as we got back from fetchin' the cream, miss. I should say as it +was about 'alf-past nine. He did meet us at the lodge, and took the +young gentleman with 'im for company--'e said so." + +"Thank you, Earley," Jan said quietly. + +Earley looked at her and over his broad, good-natured face there passed +a shade of misgiving. "I did tell Hannah to let you know the minute I +cum in, miss." + +"Thank you," Jan said again; "that's quite right." + +"Be you feelin' the 'eat, miss?" Earley asked anxiously. "I don't think +as you ought to be out without an 'at." + +"No, I expect not. I'll go and get one." + +By lunch time there was still no sign of Hugo and Tony; and Jan was +certainly as much scared as even Hugo could have wished. + +Meg had been down to the village and discovered that Hugo and Tony had +gone by bus to the junction in time for the 10.23. + +Peter was playing golf with Squire Walcote on a little course he had +made in some of his fields. It was impossible to go and hunt for Peter +without giving away the whole situation, and Jan was loth to do that. + +She and Meg stared at one another in dismayed impotence. + +Jan ordered the pony-carriage; she would drive to the junction, leaving +a note for Peter at "The Green Hart," but it was only too likely he +would lunch with the Walcotes. + +"You must eat something," said Meg. "There's a train in at a quarter to +two; you'd better meet that before you go to the junction; the guard +might be able to tell you something." + +At lunch little Fay wept because there was no Tony. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +IN WHICH SEVERAL PEOPLE SPEAK THEIR MINDS + + +"After all, you know," Meg said, with intent to comfort, "no great harm +can happen to Tony. Hugo will only take the child a little way off, to +see what he can get out of you." + +"It's the moral harm to Tony that I mind," Jan answered sadly. "He was +getting so happy and trustful, so much more like other children. I know +his father has got him to go away by some ruse, and he will be miserable +and embittered because he has been cheated again." + +"Shall you drive to the junction if you hear nothing at the station?" + +"Yes, I think so, though I've little hope of learning anything there. +You see, people come there from three directions. They couldn't possibly +notice everybody as they do at a little station like this." + +"Wait," said Meg, "don't go to the junction. Have you forgotten Mr. +Ledgard was to fetch us all at half-past two? He'll run you over in his +car in a quarter the time you'd take to go with Placid, and be some use +as well. You'd better come straight back here if you get no news, and +I'll keep him till you get back if he turns up first." + +By this time the pony-cart was at the door. Meg helped Jan in, kissed +her, and whispered, "Cheer up; I feel somehow you'll hear something," +and Jan drove off. She found a boy to hold the pony when she reached the +station, and went in. The old porter was waiting for the train, and she +asked if he happened to notice her little nephew that morning. + +"Yes, miss, I did see 'un along with a holder gentleman unbeknownst to +me." + +Jan walked up and down in an agony of doubt and apprehension. + +The train came in. There were but few passengers, and among them was +Miles, come down again for the week-end. + +He greeted Jan with effusion. Had she come to meet anyone, or was it a +parcel? + +To his astonishment Miss Ross broke from him and rushed at the guard +right up at the far end of the train. + +The guard evidently disclaimed all knowledge of the parcel, for Miles +saw him shaking his head vigorously. + +"Any other luggage, sir?" asked the old porter, lifting out Miles' +suit-case. + +"Yes, a box of rods in the van." + +The old porter went to the end of the train near where Jan had been to +the guard three minutes before. + +He opened the van door and nearly tumbled backward in astonishment, for +right in the doorway, blinking at the light, stood "Miss Rass' young +gen'leman." + +"Well, I am blessed!" exclaimed the porter, and lifted him out. + +Tony was dreadfully dirty. The heat, the dust, the tears he had shed +when he woke up with the putting in of luggage at the junction and +couldn't understand what had happened to him, all combined to make him +about the most miserable-looking and disreputable small boy you could +imagine. He had left his hat behind the milk-cans. + +Jan had gone out of the station. She had passed Miles blindly, and her +face caused that young man to whistle softly, just once. Then he dashed +after her. + +"Your haunt bin askin' for you," the old porter said to Tony. "'Peared +to me she was a bit worried-like." + +Tony moved stiffly down the little station, the old porter following +with Miles' luggage on a truck. + +The ticket-collector stood in the doorway. Tony, of course, had none. +"Don't you say nothin'," whispered the old porter. "'Is haunt'll make it +good; there's some sort of a misteree." + +Tony felt queer and giddy. Jan, already in her little pony-trap, had +started to drive away. Miles, waiting for his baggage beside his uncle's +car, saw the dejected little figure appear in the station entrance. + +He let fly a real barrack-square bellow after Jan, and she pulled up. + +She looked back and saw the reason for Captain Middleton's amazing roar. + +She swung the indignant Placid round, and in two minutes she was out of +the pony-trap and had Tony in her strong arms. + +Miles tipped the porter and drove off. He, too, realised that there was +some sort of a "misteree," something painful and unpleasant for Miss +Ross, and that she would probably prefer that no questions were asked. + +Whatever mischief could that young Tony have been after? And dared Miles +call at Wren's End that evening, in the hope of a glimpse of Meg, or +would it look inquisitive and ill-bred? + +Placid turned a mild, inquiring head to discover the reason for this new +delay. + +When Jan, after paying Tony's fare back from the junction, had driven +away, the old porter, the ticket-collector, and the station-master sat +in conclave on the situation. And their unanimous conclusion was summed +up by the old porter: "Byes be a mishtiful set of young varmints, an' it +warn't no job for a lone 'ooman to 'ave to bring 'em up." + +The lone woman in question held her reins in one hand and her other arm +very tightly round the dirty little boy on the seat beside her. + +As they drove through the village neither of them spoke, but when they +reached the Wren's End Road, Tony burst into tears. + +"I _am_ so hungry," he wailed, "and I feel so nasty in my inside." + + * * * * * + +As Meg was putting him to bed that night she inquired if he had done +anything with his green jersey, for she couldn't find it. + +"No," Tony answered. "I haven't had it for a long time--it's been too +warm." + +"It's very odd," said Meg. "It has disappeared, and so have two vests +of little Fay's that I put in the nursery ottoman to mend. Where can +they be? I hate to lose things; it seems so untidy." + +"I 'spect," said Tony, thoughtfully, "my Daddie took them. He'd never +leave without takin somefin." + + * * * * * + +There was a dinner-party at the Manor House. Peter had come down from +town for it, and this time he was staying at Wren's End. Lady Penelope +and her husband were to dine and sleep at the Manor, likewise Miles, who +had come down with Peter; and Lady Pen contrived thoroughly to upset her +aunt before dinner, by relating how she had met Miles with Miss Morton +and her father in Cheltenham. And poor Lady Mary had been hoping that +the unfortunate affair would die a natural death. She had asked the +prettiest girl in the neighbourhood for Miles to take in, and now, +looking down the table at him, she would have said he was as +well-pleased with his neighbour as any young man could be. The Freams +were there and Mr. Withells, the pretty girl's mamma and a bride and +bridegroom--fourteen in all. A dangerous number to ask, the Squire had +declared; one might so easily have fallen through. No one did, however, +and Peter found himself allotted to Lady Penelope, while Jan's fate was +the bridegroom. "His wife won't be jealous of Miss Ross, you know," Lady +Mary had said while arranging her couples. + +It happened that Peter sat opposite to Jan, and he surveyed her across +the sweet-peas with considerable satisfaction. He had never seen Jan in +what her niece bluntly called "a nekked dless" before. To-night she wore +black, in some soft, filmy stuff from which her fine arms and shoulders +and beautiful neck stood out in challenging whiteness. Her hair, too, +had "pretty twinkly things" in it, and she wore a long chain of small +but well-matched pearls, her father's last gift to her. Yes, Jan was +undoubtedly distinguished, and oh, thank heaven! she _had_ a clean face. + +Beautiful Lady Pen was painted to the eyes, and her maid was not quite +skilful in blending her complexion rightly with her vivid hair; +beautiful hair it was, with a large ripple that was most attractive, but +Mr. Withells, sitting on the other side of Lady Pen, decided that he +didn't approve of her. She was flamboyant and daring of speech. She made +him nervous. He felt sincerely sorry for Pottinger. + +Peter found Lady Pen very amusing, and perhaps she rather neglected her +other neighbour. + +The dinner was excellent and long; and after it the ladies, when they +left the men to smoke, strolled about on the terrace, and Jan found +herself side by side with Lady Penelope. + +"How's your little friend?" she asked abruptly. "I suppose you know my +cousin's playin' round?" + +Jan was a little taller than Lady Pen, and turned her head slowly to +look at her: "I'm afraid I don't quite understand," she said. + +"Surely," Lady Pen retorted, "you must have seen." + +"If you mean that Captain Middleton admires Miss Morton, I believe he +does. But you see, to say that anyone is 'playing round' rather reflects +on me, because she is in my charge." + +"I should say you've got a pretty good handful," Lady Pen said +sympathetically. + +"I don't think you quite understand Miss Morton. I've known her, as it +happens, known her well, for close upon nine years." + +"And you think well of her?" + +"It would be difficult to express how well." + +"You're a good friend, Miss Ross. I had occasion to think so once +before--now I'm pretty sure of it. What's the sayin'--'Time tryeth +thingummy'?" + +"Troth?" Jan suggested. + +"That's it. 'Time tryeth troth.' I never was any good at quotations and +things. But now, look here, I'd like to ask you somethin' rather +particular ..." Lady Pen took Jan's arm and propelled her gently down a +side-walk out of earshot of the others. "Suppose you knew folks--and +they weren't exactly friends, but pleasant, you know, and all that, and +you were aware that they went about sayin' things about a third person +who also wasn't exactly a friend, but ... well, likeable; and you +believed that what the first lot said gave a wrong impression ... in +short, was very damaging--none of it any business of yours, mind--would +you feel called upon to do anything?" + +The two tall women stopped and faced one another. + +The moon shone full on Lady Pen's beautiful painted face, and Jan saw, +for the first time, that the eyes under the delicately darkened eyebrows +were curiously like Miles'. + +"It's always tiresome to interfere in other people's business," said +Jan, "but it's not quite fair, is it, not to stand up for people if you +believe an accusation to be untrue--whether you like them or not. You +see, it may be such a serious thing for the person implicated." + +"I believe you're right," said Lady Pen, "but oh, lord! what a worry it +will be." + +Lady Mary called to them to come, for the bride was going to sing. + +The bride's singing was not particularly pleasing, and she was followed +by Miles, who performed "Drake's Drum," to his aunt's rather uncertain +accompaniment, in a voice that shook the walls. Poor Mr. Withells fled +out by the window, and sat on the step on his carefully-folded +handkerchief, but even so the cold stones penetrated, and he came in +again. + +And after "Drake's Drum" it was time to go home. + +Jan and Peter walked back through the scented night, Peter carrying her +slippers in a silk bag, for the sternly economical Meg wouldn't hear of +wasting good suede slippers at 22s. 6d. a pair by walking half a mile in +them, no matter how dry it was. + +When all the guests had gone, Lady Pen seized Miles by the arm and +implored him to take her outside for a cigarette. "That little Withells +had given her the hump." + +Lady Mary said it was bed-time and the servants wanted to lock up. The +Squire and Mr. Pottinger melted away imperceptibly to smoke in peace +elsewhere. + +Lady Pen, still holding Miles in an iron grip, pulled him over to the +door, which she shut, led him back, and stood in front of Lady Mary, who +was just going to ring for the servants to shut the windows. + +"Wait a minute, Aunt Mary. I've got somethin' to say, and I want to say +it before Miles." + +"Oh, don't let us go into all that to-night," Lady Mary implored, "if +what you have to say has anything to do with what you told me before +dinner." + +"It has and it hasn't. One thing I've decided is that I've got to tell +the Trents they are liars; and the other thing is that, though I +disapprove with all my strength of the game Miles is playing, I believe +that little girl is square...." + +"You see," Lady Pen went on, turning to Miles, "I've repeated things to +Aunt Mary that I heard from the Trents lately--but I heard a different +story at the time--and though I think you, Miles, are throwing yourself +away, I won't be a party to spreadin' lies. Somethin' that _poudree_ +woman with the good skin said to-night made me feel a swab----" + +"I'm glad you've spoken up like this, Pen," Miles said slowly, "for if +you hadn't, we couldn't have been friends any more. I promised Meg I +wouldn't tell anybody--but I've asked her to marry me ... and though she +isn't over keen, I believe I'll get her to do it some day." + +"Isn't over keen?" Lady Mary repeated indignantly. "Why, she ought to be +down on her knees with joy!" + +Miles laughed. "She's not a kneeling sort, Aunt Mary. It's I who'll have +to do the kneeling, I can tell you." + +Lady Pen was looking straight at her cousin with the beautiful candid +eyes that were so like his own. "Just for curiosity," she said slowly, +"I'd dearly like to know if Meg Morton ever said anything to you about +me--anything rather confidential--I won't be offended, I'd just like to +know." + +"About you?" Miles echoed in a puzzled voice. + +"About my appearance, you know--my looks." + +"I think she called you good-looking, like everybody else, but I don't +remember that she was specially enthusiastic. To tell you the honest +truth, Pen, we've had other things to talk about than you." + +"Now listen, you two," said Lady Pen. "That little girl is straight. You +won't understand, Miles, but Aunt Mary will. Meg Morton knew I was +against her--about you, Miles--women always know these things. And yet +she held her tongue when she could have said something true that I'd +rather not have talked about. You'll hold your tongue, old chap, and so +will Aunt Mary. I've got her hair; got it on this minute. That's why +she's such a croppy." + +Lady Mary sat down on the nearest chair and sighed deeply. + +"It's been a real satisfaction to me, this transformation, because I +know where it came from." + +Miles took his cousin's hand and kissed it. "If somebody had to have it, +I'm glad it's you," he said. + +"Yes, she's straight," Lady Pen repeated. "I don't believe there's many +girls who would have kept quiet--not when the man they cared about was +being got at. You may ring now, Aunt Mary. I'm through. Good night." + + * * * * * * * * + +"Do you realise," said Peter as they turned out of the dark Manor drive +into the moonlit road, "that I've been here on and off over a month, and +that we are now nearly at the end of July?" + +"You've only just come to _us_," said Jan. "You can't count the time you +stayed at 'The Green Hart' as a visit." + +"And now I have come ... I'm not quite sure I've done wisely, +unless...." + +"Unless what?" + +"Unless I can put something through that I came back from India to do." + +Jan did not answer. They walked on in silence, and Peter looked at the +moon. + +"I think," he said, "you've always had a pretty clear idea why I came +home from India ... haven't you?" + +"It was time for your leave," Jan said nervously. "It isn't good to +stay out there too long." + +"I shouldn't have taken leave this year, though, if it hadn't been for +you." + +"You've always been kind and helpful to me ... I hope it hasn't been +very ... inconvenient." + +Peter laughed, and stopped in the middle of the road. + +"I'm fond of fencing," he said lightly, "and free play's all very well +and pretty; but I've always thought that the real thing, with the +buttons off the foils, must have been a lot more sport than anything we +get now." + +Again Jan was silent. + +"You've fenced with me, Jan," he said slowly, "ever since I turned up +that day unexpectedly. Now, I want a straight answer. Do you care at +all, or have you only friendship for me? Look at me; tell me the truth." + +"It's all so complicated and difficult," she faltered, and her eyes fell +beneath Peter's. + +"What is?" + +"This caring--when you aren't a free agent." + +"Free fiddlestick! You either care or you don't--which is it?" + +"I care a great deal too much for my own peace of mind," said Jan. + +"I am quite satisfied," said Peter. And if Mr. Withells had seen what +happened to the "sensible" Miss Ross just then, his neatly-brushed hair +would have stood straight on end. + +In the road, too! + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +AUGUST, 1914 + + +"No," said Jan, "it would be like marrying a widow ... with +encumbrances." + +"But you don't happen to be a widow--besides, if you were, and had a +dozen encumbrances, if we want to get married it's nobody's business but +our own." + +Peter spoke testily. He wanted Jan to marry him before he went back to +India in October, and if he got the billet he hoped for, to follow him, +taking the two children out, early in November. + +But Jan saw a thousand lions in the way. She was pulled in this +direction and that, and though she knew she had got to depend on Peter +to--as she put it--"a dreadful extent," yet she hesitated to saddle him +with her decidedly explosive affairs, without a great deal more +consideration than he seemed disposed to allow her. + +Hugo, for the present, was quiet. He was in Guernsey with his people, +and beyond a letter in which he directly accused Peter Ledgard of +abducting Tony when his father was taking him to visit his grandparents, +Jan had heard nothing. + +By Peter's advice she did not answer this letter. But they both knew +that Hugo was only waiting to make some other and more unpleasant +demonstration than the last. + +"You see," Jan began again, "I've got so many people to think of. The +children and Meg and the house and all the old servants.... You mustn't +hustle me, dear." + +"Yes, I see all that; but I've got _you_ to think of, and if we're +married and anything happens to me you'll get your pension, and I want +you to have that." + +"And if anything happened to me, you'd be saddled with the care of two +little children who've got a thoroughly unsatisfactory father, who can +always make life hateful for them and for you. No, Peter, it wouldn't be +fair--we must wait and see how things work out." + +"At present," Peter said gloomily, "it looks as if things were working +out to a fair bust-up all round." + +This was on the 30th of July. + +Peter went up to London, intending to return on the first to stay over +the Bank Holiday, but he did not come. He wanted to be within easy reach +of recalling cablegram. + +Meg got a wire from Miles on Saturday: "Try to come up for to-morrow and +Monday I can't leave town must see you." + +And half an hour after it, came a note from Squire Walcote, asking her +to accept his escort, as he and Lady Mary were going up to the +Grosvenor, and hoped Meg would be their guest. + +It was during their stay in London that Lady Mary and the Squire got the +greatest surprise of their whole lives. + +Miles, looking bigger than ever in uniform, rushed in and demanded an +interview with Meg alone in their private room. He showed her a special +licence, and ordered, rather than requested, that she should marry him +at once. + +"I can't," she said, "it's no use asking me ... I _can't_." + +"Listen; have you any objection to me?" + +Meg pulled a little away from him and pretended to look him up and down. +"No ... in fact ... I love every bit of you--especially your boots." + +"Have you thought how likely it is that I may not come back ... if +there's war?" + +"Don't!" said Meg. "Don't put it into words." + +"Then why won't you marry me, and let me feel that, whether I'm killed +or not, I've had the thing I wanted most in this world?" + +"Dear, I can't help it, but I feel if I married you now ... you would +never come back ... but if I wait ... if I don't try to grasp this +wonderful thing too greedily ... it will come to us both. I _daren't_ +marry you, Miles." + +"Suppose I'm all smashed up ... I couldn't ask you then ... suppose I +come back minus an arm or a leg, or blind or something?" + +"If the least little bit of you comes back, I'll marry that; not you or +anyone else could stop me then." + +"You'd make it easier all round if you'd marry me now...." + +"That's it ... I don't want it to be easier. If I was your wife, how +could I go on being nurse to those children?" + +"I wouldn't stop you--you could go back to Miss Ross and do just +exactly what you're doing. I agree with you--the children are +cheery----" + +Meg shook her head. "No; if I was your wife, it wouldn't do. As it is +... the nursemaid has got her soldier, and that's as it should be." + +"Will you marry me the first leave I get, if I live to get any?" + +"I'll think about that." + +He gave her the ring she had refused before. Such an absurd little ring, +with its one big sapphire set with diamonds, and "no backing to it," +Miles said. + +And he gave her a very heavy brass-studded collar for William, and on +the plate was engraved her name and address. + +"You see," he explained, "Miss Ross would never really have him, and I'd +like to think he was your dog. And here's his licence." + +Then Miles took her right up in his arms and hugged her close, and set +her gently down and left her. + +That night he asked his uncle and a brother-officer to witness his will. +He had left most of his money among his relations, but twenty thousand +pounds he had left to Meg absolutely, in the event of his being killed +before they were married. + +His uncle pointed out that there was nothing said about her possible +marriage. "She'll be all the better for a little money of her own if she +does marry," Miles said simply. "I don't want her to go mourning all her +days, but I do want the capital tied up on her so that he couldn't +waste it ... if he was an unfortunate sort of chap over money." + +The Squire blew his nose. + +"You see," Miles went on, "she's a queer little thing. If I left her too +much, she'd refuse it altogether. Now I trust to you, Uncle Edward, to +see that she takes this." + +"I'll do my best, my boy, I'll do my best," said the Squire; "but I hope +with all my soul you'll make settlements on her yourself before long." + +"So do I, but you never can tell in war, you know. And we must always +remember," Miles added with his broad, cheerful smile, "there's a good +deal of target about me." + +Miles wrote to the little Major, a very manly, straightforward letter, +telling him what he had done, but swearing him to secrecy as regarded +Meg. + +He also wrote to Jan, and at the end, he said, "I am glad she is to be +with you, because you really apreciate her." + +The one "p" in "appreciate" fairly broke Jan down. It was so like Miles. + +Meg, white-faced and taciturn, went back to Wren's End on Tuesday night. +The Squire and Lady Mary remained in town. + +In answer to Jan's affectionate inquiries, Meg was brief and +business-like. Yes; she had seen Miles several times. He was very busy. +No, she did not expect to see him again before ... he left. Yes; he was +going with the First Army. + +Jan asked no more questions, but was quietly, consistently kind. Meg +was adorable with her children and surpassed herself in the telling of +stories. + +The First Army left England for Flanders with the silence of a shadow. + +But Meg knew when it left. + +That night, Jan woke about one o'clock, conscious of a queer sound that +she could neither define nor locate. + +She sat up in bed to listen, and arrived at the conclusion that it came +from the day-nursery, which was below her room. + +Tony was sleeping peacefully. Jan put on her dressing-gown and went +downstairs. The nursery door was not shut, and a shaft of light shone +through it into the dark hall. She pushed it open a little way and +looked in. + +Meg was sitting at the table, making muslin curtains as if her life +depended on it. She wore her nightgown, and over it a queer little +Japanese kimono of the green she loved. Her bare feet were pillowed upon +William, who lay snoring peacefully under the table. + +Her face was set and absorbed. A grave, almost stern, little face. And +her rumpled hair, pushed back from her forehead, gave her the look of a +Botticelli boy angel. It seemed to merge into tongues of flame where the +lamplight caught it. + +The window was wide open and the sudden opening of the door caused a +draught, though the night was singularly still. + +The lamp flickered. + +Meg rested her hand on the handle of the sewing-machine, and the +whirring noise stopped. She saw Jan in the doorway. + +"Dear," said Jan gently, standing where she was, half in and half out of +the door, "are you obliged to do this?" + +Meg looked at her, and the dumb pain in that look went to Jan's heart. + +Jan came towards her and drew the flaming head against her breast. + +"I'm sorry I disturbed you," Meg murmured, "but I was _obliged_ to do +something." + +William stirred at the voices, and turning his head tried to lick the +little bare feet resting on his back. + +"Dearest, I really think you should go back to bed." + +"Very well," said Meg meekly. "I'll go now." + +"He," Jan continued, "would be very angry if he thought you were making +curtains in the middle of the night." + +"He," Meg retorted, "is absurd--and dear beyond all human belief." + +"You see, he left you in my charge ... what will he say if--when he +comes back--he finds a haggard Meg with a face like a threepenny-bit +that has seen much service?" + +"All right, I'm coming." + +When Meg got back to her room, she went and leaned over little Fay +sleeping in the cot beside her bed. Rosy and beautiful, warm and +fragrant, the healthy baby brought comfort to Meg's stricken heart. + +Perhaps--who knows--the tramp of that silent army sounded in little +Fay's ears, for she stretched out her dimpled arms and caught Meg round +the neck. + +"Deah Med!" she sighed, and was still. + +William stood at attention. + +Presently Meg knelt down by her bed, and according to the established +ritual he thrust his head into her encircling arm. + +"Pray for your master, William," Meg whispered. "Oh, William, pray for +your master as you never prayed before." + + * * * * * * * * + +The strange tense days went on in August weather serene and lovely as +had not been seen for years. Young men vanished from the country-side +and older men wistfully wondered what they could do to help. + +Peter came down from Saturday to Monday, telling them that every officer +and every civilian serving in India was recalled, but he had not yet +learned when he was to sail. + +They were sitting in the wrens' garden with the children. + +"Earley's going," Tony said importantly. + +"Earley!" Jan exclaimed. "Going where?" + +"To fight, of course," little Fay chimed in. + +"Oh, poor dear Earley!" Jan sighed. + +"Happy, fortunate Earley," said Peter. "I wish I stood in his shoes." + +Earley joined the Gloucesters because, he said, "he couldn't abear to +think of them there Germans comin' anigh Mother and them childring and +the ladies; and he'd better go and see as they didn't." + +Mr. Withells called the men on his place together and told them that +every man who joined would have his wages paid to his wife, and his wife +or his mother, as the case might be, could stop on in her cottage. And +Mr. Withells became a special constable, with a badge and a truncheon. +But he worried every soldier that he knew with inquiries as to whether +there wasn't a chance for him in _some_ battalion: "I've taken great +care of my health," he said. "I do exercises every day after my bath; +I'm young-looking for my age, don't you think? And anyway, a bullet +might find me instead of a more useful man." + +No one laughed then at Mr. Withells and his exercises. + +Five days after the declaration of war Jan got a letter from Hugo +Tancred. He was in London and was already a private in a rather famous +cavalry regiment. + +"They didn't ask many questions," he wrote, "so I hadn't to tell many +lies. You see, I can ride well and understand horses. If I get knocked +out, it won't be much loss, and I know you'll look after Fay's kiddies. +If I come through, perhaps I can make a fresh start somewhere. I've +always been fond of a gamble, and this is the biggest gamble I've ever +struck." + +Jan showed the letter to Peter, who gave it back to her with something +like a groan: "Even the wrong 'uns get their chance, and yet I have to +go back and do a deadly dull job, just because it _is_ my job." + +Peter went up to town and two days after came down again to "The Green +Hart" to say good-bye. He had got his marching orders and was to sail in +the _Somali_ from Southampton. Some fifteen hundred civilians and +officers serving in India were sailing by that boat and the _Dongola_. + +By every argument he could bring forward he tried to get Jan to marry +him before he sailed. Yet just because she wanted to do it so much, she +held back. She, too, she kept telling herself, had her job, and she knew +that if she was Peter's wife, nothing, not even her dear Fay's children, +could be of equal importance with Peter. + +The children and Meg and the household had by much thinking grown into a +sort of Frankenstein's monster of duty. + +Her attitude was incomprehensible to Peter. It seemed to him to be +wrong-headed and absurd, and he began to lose patience with her. + +On his last morning he sought and found her beside the sun-dial in the +wrens' garden. + +Meg had taken little Fay to see Lady Mary's Persian kittens, but Tony +preferred to potter about the garden with the aged man who was trying to +replace Earley. William was not allowed to call upon the kittens, as +Fatima, their mother, objected to him vehemently, and Tony cared to go +nowhere if William might not be of the party. + +Peter came to Jan and took both her hands and held them. + +"It's the last time I shall ask you, my dear. If you care enough, we +can have these last days together. If you don't I must go, for I can't +bear any more of this. Either you love me enough to marry me before I +sail or you don't love me at all. Which is it?" + +"I do love you, you know I do." + +"Well, which is it to be?" + +"Peter, dear, you must give me more time. I haven't really faced it all. +I can't do anything in such a hurry as that." + +Peter looked at her and shook his head. + +"You don't know what caring is," he said. "I can't stand any more of +this. Do you see that motto on the sun-dial: 'I bide my time'--I've read +it and read it, and I've said it over to myself and waited and hoped to +move you. Now I can't wait any more." + +He kissed her, dropped her hand, and turning from her went out through +the iron gate and down the drive. For a moment Jan stood by the sun-dial +as though she, too, were stone. + +Then blindly she went up the steps into the empty nursery and sat down +on an old sofa far back in the room. She leaned face-downward against +the cushions, and great, tearing sobs broke from her. + +Peter was gone. He would never come back. She had driven him from her. +And having done so she realised that he was the one person in the world +she could not possibly do without. + +Tony's own hen had laid an egg. Carrying it very carefully in a +cabbage-leaf, he went, accompanied by the faithful William, to show it +to Auntie Jan, and was just in time to see Peter going down the drive. + +He went through the wrens' garden and in by the window. For a moment he +didn't see his aunt; and was turning to go again when a strange sound +arrested him, and he saw her all huddled up at the head of the sofa, +with hidden face and heaving shoulders. + +He laid his egg on the table and went and pulled at her arm. + +"What is the matter?" he asked anxiously. "And why has Peter gone?" + +Jan raised her head; pride and shame and self-consciousness were dead in +her: "He's gone," she sobbed. "He won't come back, and I shall never be +happy any more," and down went her head again on her locked arms. + +Tony did not attempt to console her. He ran from the room, and Jan felt +that this was only an added pang of abandonment. + +Down the drive ran Tony, with William galumphing beside him. But William +was not happy, and squealed softly from time to time. He felt it unkind +to leave a poor lady crying like that, and yet was constrained to go +with Tony because Meg had left him in William's charge. + +Tony turned out of the gate and into the road. + +Far away in the distance was a man's figure striding along with +incredible swiftness. Tony started to run all he knew. Now, seldom as +William barked, he barked when people ran, and William's bark was so +deep and sonorous and distinctive that it caused the swiftly striding +man to turn his head. He turned his body, too, and came back to meet +Tony and William. + +Tony was puffed and almost breathless, but he managed to jerk out: "You +must go back; she's ... crying dreadful. You _must_ go back. Go quick; +don't wait for us." + +Peter went. + + * * * * * + +Jan very rarely cried. When she did it hurt fiercely and absorbed all +her attention. She was crying now as if she would never stop. If people +seldom cry it has a devastating effect on their appearance when they do. +Jan's eyelids were swollen, her nose scarlet and shiny, her features all +bleared and blurred and almost scarred by tears. + +Someone touched her gently on the shoulder, and she looked up. + +"My dear," said Peter, "you must not cry like this. I was losing my +temper--that's why I went off." + +Jan sprang to her feet and flung her arms round his neck. She pressed +her ravaged face against his: "I'll do anything you like," she +whispered, "if you'll only like it. I can't stand by myself any more." + +This was true, for as she spoke her knees gave under her. + +Peter held her close. Never had Jan looked less attractive and never had +Peter loved her more, or realised so clearly how dear and foolish and +wise and womanly she was. + +"You see," she sobbed, "you said yourself everyone _must_ do his job, +and I thought----" + +"But surely," said Peter, "I _am_ your job--part of it, anyway." + +Jan sobbed now more quietly, with her head against his shoulder. + +Tony and William came and looked in at the window. + +His aunt was still crying, crying hard, though Peter was there close +beside her, very close indeed. + +Surely this was most unreasonable. + +"She said," Tony remarked accusingly to Peter, "she was crying because +you had gone, so I ran to fetch you back. And now I _have_ fetched you, +she's crying worse nor ever." + +But William Bloomsbury knew better. William had cause to know the +solitary bitter tears that hurt. These tears were different. + +So William wagged his tail and ran into the room, jumping joyously on +Peter and Jan. + + + + +[Transcriber's Note: + + +The following corrections were made: + +p. 44: Daddy to Daddie, to match all other occurrences (Daddie was very +daylight.) + +p. 113: log to long (long grey dust-cloak) + +p. 113: froward to forward (Anthony came forward) + +p. 118: bread-an-butter to bread-and-butter (several pieces of +bread-and-butter) + +p. 152: minunte to minute (pondered this for a minute) + +p. 284: quit to quick ("I came as quick as I could,") + +p. 318: fluttered to flattered (rather flattered) + +In the Latin-1 plain text version, an a-macron and an o-breve have been +removed from the word Jao! (p. 196). + +Inconsistencies in hyphenation (e.g. country-side vs. countryside) have +not been changed. All dialect and "baby talk" has been left as in the +original. Two different types of thought breaks were used in the +original: extra whitespace between paragraphs (represented by 5 spaced +asterisks in this text) and a line of 8 spaced asterisks (left as in the +original.) Ellipses match the original, even when inconsistent. The +exception is when they occur at the end of a paragraph, where they are +always accompanied by a period.] + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Jan and Her Job, by L. 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