A Little World Part 30

And eager whispered words those seemed to her to be, but replied to only in monosyllables, and at last, when she raised her head and gazed through the open door, she winced as if she had been struck, on seeing a be-ringed hand stretched across the counter, and tightly holding one of Patty's little white palms.

Janet did not heed that the young girl seemed to be vainly trying to release that hand, as she stood right back against the cages at the side of the shop.

It was a bright hot summer day, with window and door open, so as to catch every wandering breeze that might lose itself in the vast maze of bricks and mortar; and as Janet had that one glance in at the shop, the door of communication banged loudly, and her view was cut off.

For a moment the girl's face was contracted by pain; then a fierce malicious look swept over it as she rose to re-open the door.

"No, no--no, no, _mon enfant_; let the door rest," said Monsieur Canau.

"Wait till I have finished this one bird. Patty will be here directly."

Janet shrunk back into her chair, craning her neck forward, though, as she tried in vain to make out the words that were spoken. Her teeth gnawed her lip, and her nails seemed to be pressed into her hands, while the twitching of her wide nostrils told of the agitation that moved her so strongly.

Twice she made as though to leap up, determined not to bear longer the restraint put upon her, but only to subside again into her eager listening att.i.tude, as Monsieur Canau still painted on, humming softly an operatic air the while, as from time to time he stood to watch the progress of his work.

He was evidently totally ignorant of what was taking place in the shop, his occupation for the time being completely filling his mind, so that neither did he notice the agitation of Janet, which grew each moment more marked and decided in character.

At last the girl sprang sharply up, and walked towards the door, but only to be stayed by Canau.

"A moment, little one!" he said; "the Indian ink is not here. Reach it down for me from the closet."

With trembling hands, Janet crossed to the cupboard, and strove to find the cake of paint; but it was beyond her reach, and she had to take a chair before she could find it and return to the table.

"Good! Now mix me a little upon that saucer; not too much."

Janet obeyed without a word, and still Canau did not notice her agitation.

At last, though, she was free; and with eyes glittering, she made towards the door, just as she could hear now some hurried words, uttered in a low tone, as if some one were pleading importunately.

Then a few quick broken sentences followed, and one of the cages was slightly moved from its place.

Another moment, and Janet's hand was upon the fastening of the door, and she had thrown it open in time to see Patty's drawn farther and farther over the counter in spite of her resistance, and there it was held.

There were more words--hurried, eager words--a faint cry of remonstrance, and then Patty's hand was s.n.a.t.c.hed away with a violent effort, and she rushed, hot and excited, into the room.

"Aha! there, mind, my child," said Canau; "but you will make the feathers fly. What is it? Has one of the little dogs got loose, and have you hunted him? Eh? Ah, _ma foi_! but you are hot and red-faced, and angry! Has any one dared--but what is this?"

Monsieur Canau uttered this last query in fierce tones, for, following rapidly upon the entrance of Patty, there was the dislodging a cage or two, the rattle of some chains, and a general fluttering amongst D.

Wragg's feathered possessions, as Lionel Redgrave, in full pursuit, forced his way into the little room.

Volume 2, Chapter XI.

LIONEL'S CHECK.

"There! I told you I would," cried Lionel, who had hurried round the end of the counter, but not quickly enough to arrest the fleeing girl.

"You know I met Wragg--"

He stopped short upon finding himself face to face with Monsieur Canau, who, reading at a glance, from Patty's flushed and troubled face, the meaning of her retreat, started angrily to his feet, saying--

"Monsieur is in error; he makes a mistake. This room is private, and he will instantly retire."

Taken by surprise, and half abashed for the moment, Lionel shrank from the shabby little figure before him. For the Frenchman, sallow and seamed of countenance, appeared to brighten up, and his breast began to swell, as he stepped towards the intruder.

But Lionel's discomfiture did not last a minute. Waiting until Canau was close up to him, he exclaimed--

"And pray, who the devil are you?"

"Who am I, sir?" exclaimed Canau, fiercely; "I, sir, am a gentleman, the protector of these ladies. In my country, sir--in La France--it is not money, but birth, and the habits of a gentleman, that serve to make the aristocrat. You are in error, sir; and you will directly leave this room."

Lionel was perfectly astounded, and each moment he grew more confused, hardly knowing whether to be amused, or to think that he was in some other part of the world.

Was he dreaming? he asked himself, or was this really Decadia?

But his short reverie was made even shorter, as, quite in an agony, Janet clung to Canau's hand, whispering imploringly, as she gazed in his face--

"Oh! for my sake, pray, don't! Do not be angry."

"Hush! hush! my little one," said the Frenchman, softly, a most benignant aspect overspreading his poor worn countenance. "Be not afraid--it is nothing. You, sir," he continued, calmly turning to Lionel, "you are young, and you make mistakes. In my country satisfaction would have been asked; but this is not La France, and I forget. But monsieur will leave at once."

In spite of himself, angry even at what he chose to call his weakness, Lionel felt that he was overmatched by his little adversary. He knew that they were standing upon different bases, and that while the one occupied by the Frenchman was solid and substantial, his own was rotten and untrustworthy. Above all, too, it would keep striking him as being startling, that there, in that low, wretched street, which he told himself he had visited for the purpose of carrying on a vulgar amour, one should start up with all the grand courtesy of a gentleman of the old _regime_, to rebuke him, and to call him to account for his flagrant breach of etiquette.

He could do no other; and at last, stepping over the threshold, half annoyed, half puzzled, he suffered himself to be backed into the shop, and then to the door, Monsieur Canau putting on his hat as he progressed, but only to raise it with grim courtesy to the young man, who, frowning and humiliated, involuntarily raised his own, before walking fuming away.

"This young man, this foolish boy--do you encourage him to come here, Janet?" said Monsieur Canau, angrily, as he returned to the room to find both the young girls in tears.

Her answer was a shake of the head, while Patty came forward and placed both her little hands in his, as she thanked him for his conduct, and begged him not to speak angrily to Janet.

"It is well," he said, nodding his head many times, "and I am not angry with Janet. But this must not be: he must be stopped: he must come here no more."

He paused, for a loud sob from Janet took his attention, and turning, he found her with her face buried in her hands as she bent down, weeping bitterly.

"Poor child!" said Canau, tenderly, "she is soon alarmed. The scene has been too much; but we will go up to our own room and have some music.

It will greatly soothe and calm this troubled spirit. But no--not so; we must wait for Wragg--we must not leave till he comes; and Patty, my child, you must no more be in the shop alone. It is not right for you.

But enough--enough of this. I will stay with you now, and we will finish the birds."

Turning to the painting, he sketched on as if nothing had happened, conversing lightly in French, till seeing once more that the tears would flow, he raised his brows slightly, shrugged his shoulders, rolled up and lit a cigarette, and strolled into the shop, muttering, as he left the girls to each other's sympathy--

"But this must be stopped: he must come here no more."

Very thoughtful was Monsieur Canau, as he stood there in the shop, his gaze lighting here and there upon bird, beast, or fish. But he saw them not, for his mind was filled with the recollection of the incident of that morning, and his seamed countenance grew more full of line and pucker as he sent the blue vapour from his cigarette, eddying out upon the air in furious puffs.

Then he walked to the door to look up and down the street, considering within himself the while what he should say to the dealer on his return; then he wondered whether it was the little man's doing that Lionel Redgrave had gone there while Janet and her friend were in charge, and he frowned again and again as the thoughts came thick and fast. But at last, muttering to himself these words--"He must come here no more," he was about to turn into the house, when he became aware of a low surly face close to him, apparently watching his every motion.

Volume 2, Chapter XII.

D. WRAGG'S DAY OUT.

If there is one thing more loved of your genuine Londoner than sh.e.l.l-fish, it is what he calls an "outing."