Betty Trevor Part 3

"Oh, Cynthia!" cried the lady--and there was a world of mother-yearning in her voice--"is it that old trouble again? Poor child, it is dull for you, but I do all I can for you, darling. I stayed at home especially to be near you, and I do my best to be a companion, and to sympathise in all your interests. Don't tell me that I have failed altogether!"

Cynthia crossed the room, knelt down on the floor by her mother's couch and laid both hands on her knee. The two faces that confronted each other were as much alike as was possible, given a difference in age of twenty-five years. Cynthia was a beautiful girl, and her mother was a beautiful woman, and the beauty lay as much in expression as in feature.

Miles Trevor had been entirely mistaken when he compared the girl to a doll, for the direct glance of the eye, the sweet, firm lips and well- formed chin, belonged to no puppet, but showed unusual strength of character.

"You are a darling, and I adore you!" cried Cynthia fondly. "But you are old, you know, and I am so dreadfully young. There's something all fizzling inside me for want of a vent. I'm just desperate sometimes to do something wild, and exciting, and hilarious; it doesn't matter how silly it is; the sillier the better! I'm so dreadfully well-regulated, mother, considering I'm only sixteen. Lessons--'studies,' as Miss Mason calls them--musical exercises, const.i.tutional, luncheon, more studies, dinner, polite conversation, performances upon the piano, that's my daily round, and I get _so_ tired! Don't think I don't appreciate you, mother. You know I do. We are the best friends in the world, but still--"

"I know," said Mrs Alliot, and sighed once more. She stroked her daughter's golden head in thoughtful silence, then asked curiously, "What made you feel your loneliness especially to-day, dear?"

A flicker of laughter pa.s.sed over Cynthia's pink-and-white face.

"The boy and girl in Number 1, the corner house, were playing tricks on me, trying to dazzle my eyes with something--a piece of old looking- gla.s.s, I suppose. I could not understand what caused the sudden glare until I caught a glimpse of their faces peering out from behind the curtains."

"Trying to dazzle you! That doctor's children? How exceedingly rude!

They must be very badly brought up. And you were sitting with your eyes shut pretending to go on reading. You curious child! Why?"

"It was their joke; they enjoyed it. It would have been mean to cut it short. Besides," added Cynthia, with a twinkle, "it was my joke too!

They must have been so puzzled when I seemed to go on reading, for they couldn't see that my eyes were shut, and I went on turning over the pages at regular intervals, as if I were perfectly comfortable and happy. Oh no, I don't think they are rude, mother; only frisky, and I love frisky people! There are such a lot of them, and they do have such a good time. Schoolroom tea all together, and the big girl pours out.

I could see them quite well when they first came, and the afternoons were light. They go in pairs--a big boy and a big girl, a middling boy and a middling girl, and then a dear little girl with a face like a kitten. I like them all so much, but--" and her voice died away in a plaintive cadence, "they don't like me!"

"And how have you found that out, may I ask?"

"I--I feel they don't," sighed Cynthia sadly. "They watch me out of the windows, and talk and laugh, and make remarks among themselves. The window seemed full of faces the other day..."

Mrs Alliot's delicate face flushed resentfully.

"Abominably rude! Really, dear, I don't think you need worry yourself what such people think. There can be no possible excuse for such behaviour!"

"Oh yes, dear, there is, for they don't intend me to see! It was quite extraordinary how they all vanished into s.p.a.ce the very instant I raised my eyes. You might just as well say it is rude of me to stare into their windows, and I do, for I can't help it. It's a sort of magnet to me every time I pa.s.s. I do so wish I knew them, mother dear!"

Mrs Alliot smiled and stroked her daughter's head once more. She was thinking that for Cynthia's sake she must really manage to cultivate some friends with large families; but she had not the least intention of introducing her daughter to the strange doctor's mischievous, unconventional children.

In many cases, however, there is something stronger than the will of parents and guardians. Some people call it fate, some by a higher name.

In later years Cynthia Alliot considered her friendship with the Trevor family as one of the greatest providences of her life.

CHAPTER FIVE.

AN OLD TRICK.

It was very dull and dreary for the remainder of the month, typical November weather, with what the Trevors called a "pea-soup" atmosphere, deepening now and then into a regular fog. The Square gardens were soaking with moisture, the surrounding houses looked greyer and gloomier than ever, until it seemed impossible to believe that the sky had ever been blue, or that gay-coloured spring flowers had flourished in those black-looking beds.

Jack and Jill had the bad taste to approve of fogs. They were "ripping," they declared. "So adventurous and jolly! Yesterday, when I was walking to school, a hansom drove on the pavement beside me. Think of that!" cried Jill in a tone of triumph. "The horse's nose nearly touched my shoulder, and an old lady near me shrieked like anything. It _was_ sport!"

Jack was rather envious of the hansom episode, but had had his own share of amus.e.m.e.nt. "I followed Johnston all the way home, and chaffed him with a pebble in my mouth to disguise my voice. He was nearly mad with rage, and whenever he turned round I simply bent double, and he went for another fellow, and there was no end of a game."

"But how did it happen that you could see him when he couldn't see you?"

queried Jill, when Jack was forced to admit that he _had_ made mistakes more than once; but it only added to the sport to see the consternation of innocent pedestrians when an accusing voice suddenly hissed in their ears, "Who sneaked the indiarubber from Smith's desk?"

The twins were happily const.i.tuted to enjoy all things, and from their conversation it would have appeared that to be hopelessly lost in a fog would be the climax of earthly joy; but Betty hated the gloom of the long days, when the gas burned steadily from breakfast to bedtime, and was nervous about trusting herself alone in the streets. In her leisure moments she devoted herself to the preparation of Christmas presents, and turned over the contents of her sc.r.a.p-drawers, debating how to make a dozen handsome articles with the least possible expenditure. It is to be feared that Betty's gifts were arranged more to suit her own convenience than the tastes of the recipients. "This will make a book- cover for Jill. I don't suppose she'll ever use it, but it's not big enough for anything else, so she'll just have to like it!" This was the spirit in which she a.s.sorted her materials, and set to work thereon.

Not the ideal att.i.tude by any means, but one must make allowances for a girl with a small allowance and a large family connection, and must also enter it to the credit of this particular damsel that she grudged no work which could beautify the simple background. Poor Betty! For two whole gloomy afternoons did she work at a spray of roses on a linen work-bag, and on the third day a feeble gleam of sunlight showed itself, and lo, the roses were a harlequin study in pinks and orange!

"Is it at all trying? Is it enough to make you pitch the whole thing into the fire?" she demanded dramatically of the chairs and tables, as the horrible discovery burst upon her, and she proceeded to snap at the silk with her sharp little scissors, and viciously tear away the st.i.tches. "Shan't bother to fill them in any more! They'll just have to do in outline, and if she doesn't like it she can do the other thing!" she grunted under her breath; but that was only the impulse of the moment, and when it came to action each st.i.tch was put in as carefully as before.

"What are you sewing away at those old things for?" Jill demanded, coming into the room and seating herself easily on the edge of the table. "It's much easier to buy match-boxes and needle-books. You can get beauties for sixpence three-farthings at the Christmas bazaars, and it saves no end of f.a.g. You can give me safety-pins if you like, for my clothes are all coming to pieces, and my pins disappear like smoke.

Mary eats them, I believe! What are you going to give mother?"

"Can't think! She wants a palm for the drawing-room, but a nice one costs half a guinea, and I couldn't possibly sc.r.a.pe together more than three and six."

Jill pondered, swinging her feet to and fro. "Five more Sat.u.r.days at fourpence each,--one and eight-pence, and I've got about two shillings in hand. No! I couldn't possibly offer to join. I wish we could have managed it, for the drawing-room doesn't look half furnished, and a big palm would have made a fine effect, but we can't, so there's an end of that!"

A gasp of suppressed nervousness sounded from the end of the room, and Pam's voice said with the usual funny little squeak, "I've got sixpence with a hole in it. I'll join, Betty! Do get mother a palm! She wants it so badly. We saw one in a shop window yesterday, and she said it was just the thing for our room!"

"Sorry, Pam, but it can't be done. They are a frightful price in the shops, and even old 'All a-growing all a-blowing' has none under seven and six. Perhaps when her birthday comes round we can manage it, but at Christmas there are so many presents to buy that one can't afford big things."

"I want to get it now," squeaked Pam obstinately, while Jill jumped down from the table and turned to the door.

"I'm going out! Can't afford to waste holiday afternoons. Why don't you put away that stupid work and come too?"

"Where are you going? A walk?"

"Rather not! Am I a Pampered Pet to promenade up and down? Jack and I are going to have some fun in the Square. I'm not going to tell you what it is, but you can come too if you like."

Betty raised her head and peered out of the window. Black railings, black trees, sodden gra.s.s, paths strewn with decaying leaves, a fast- failing light. She gave a shudder of distaste and sank back in her chair.

"Thanks! I prefer the fire. I can't understand you, Jill, going in for an exam, and wasting every spare moment you get! When I went in, I stewed every Sat.u.r.day afternoon the whole term, and never dreamed of going out."

"Yes, and got plucked for your pains!" retorted Jill brutally. Poor Betty! She had pa.s.sed so well in everything but that fatal arithmetic, which made all the difference between success and failure. The figures would not add up, the lines danced before her eyes, she could not remember the simplest table. It was cruel to rake up that old sore.

She pressed her lips together and sat in offended dignity, while Jill skipped to the door, tossing her pretty pert head.

"I shall take care of my health and my nerves, and not have them breaking down just when I need them most. If the worst comes to the worst, I shall be no worse off than you were yourself, and I shall have had my fun!"

She ran downstairs into the hall, where Jack was awaiting her with a brown-paper parcel tucked under his arm, and together they crossed the road to the nearest gate, and let themselves into the garden with a heavy key.

"The other corner is the best," Jack cried, leading the way forward at an eager pace, "more traffic, and thicker bushes. I spotted the exact place yesterday. Have you got the reel in your pocket all right?"

"Yes, yes! And you must give me my turn, Jack. It's only fair, because you wouldn't let me have a parcel of my own on the other side."

"Of course not! You wouldn't expect to find two lost parcels within a few yards of each other, would you? You want to give the whole show away!" cried Jack in indignant schoolboy fashion. "Now don't talk so much, but creep between these bushes when n.o.body is pa.s.sing. There's room for us both, and I can get a pull at the string between these branches. We'll have a rehearsal now, and see how it works." He crawled forward on the dank earth, in easy unconcern for the knees of his trousers, dropped the daintily-wrapped parcel on to the centre of the pavement, and crept back to his place, holding in his hand the end of a long black thread.

They crouched together behind the bushes, as mischievous a Jack and Jill as have been known since the world began, giggling with antic.i.p.ated glee, nudging each other violently at the sound of approaching footsteps, and peering eagerly through their loopholes to see what manner of prey was about to fall into their hands.

First, a fine lady walking gingerly along, both hands occupied in keeping her skirt from contact with the greasy pavement. She looked at the parcel with blank indifference, and pa.s.sed quietly on her way. The twins gasped with stupefaction. Could such things be? Was it possible that a human creature could be so surfeited with the good things of this world, that she could behold an unopened parcel lying on the ground, and feel no curiosity to discover what was inside? Imagination refused to picture such a position!

"Mad!" was Jack's scornful explanation. "Mad as a March hare! Ought to be shut up out of the way. Walked straight over the string too. Hope to goodness she hasn't broken it!"

A flick to the end of the string proved that this fear was unfounded, and the twins composed themselves for another period of waiting.

Pedestrians seemed to prefer the pavement by the houses instead of that darker one overshadowed by the trees of the gardens, and several moments elapsed before a brisk footstep announced the approach of a tall, well set-up man clad in a light overcoat. His eye lit on the parcel, he bent his head and stretched out a hand to raise it up. Instantly Jack gave a flick to the string, to which the parcel responded by jumping an inch or two farther along the pavement. The brown-coated man straightened himself, gave a funny little grunt, half amused, half-angry, and strode on his way. He had been a boy himself!