Janet's Love and Service Part 76

And so on, till she was tired, at last, and went away.

"What nonsense that woman talks, to be sure!" said Rose.

"Worse than nonsense, I am afraid, sometimes," said Graeme. "Really, Harry's terror of her is not surprising. n.o.body seems safe from her tongue."

"But don't let us lose our walk, altogether. We have time to go round the square, at any rate. It is not late," said Rose.

They went out, leaving, or seeming to leave, all thought of Mrs Gridley and her news behind them. They met f.a.n.n.y returning home, before they had gone far down the street.

"Come with us, f.a.n.n.y. Baby is all right. Are you tired?" said Rose.

"No, I am not tired. But is it not almost dinner time? Suppose we go and meet Arthur."

"Well--only there is a chance of missing him; and it is much nicer up toward S street. However, we can go home that way. There will be time enough. How delightful the fresh air is, after a whole day in the house!"

"And after Mrs Gridley," said Graeme, laughing.

"Have you had Mrs Gridley?" said f.a.n.n.y.

"Yes, and columns of news, but it will keep. Is it not nice to be out?

I would like to borrow that child's skipping rope, and go up the street as she does."

f.a.n.n.y laughed. "Wouldn't all the people be amazed? Tell me what news Mrs Gridley gave you."

Rose went over a great many items, very fast, and very merrily.

"All that, and more besides, which Graeme will give you, if you are not satisfied. There is your husband. I hope he may be glad to see us all."

"If he is not, he can go home by himself."

Arthur professed himself delighted, but suggested the propriety of their coming one at a time, after that, so that the pleasure might last longer.

"Very well, one at a time be it," said Rose. "Come, f.a.n.n.y, he thinks it possible to have too much of a good thing. Let him have Graeme, to-night, and we will take care of ourselves."

They went away together, and Arthur and Graeme followed, and so it happened that Graeme had lost sight of her sister; when she saw something that brought some of Mrs Gridley's words unpleasantly to her mind. They had turned into S street, which was gay with carriages, and with people riding and walking, and the others were at a distance before them under the trees, when Arthur spoke to some one, and looking up, she saw Miss Roxbury, on horseback, and at her side rode Mr Millar. She was startled, so startled that she quite forgot to return Miss Roxbury's bow and smile, and had gone a good way down the street before she noticed that her brother was speaking to her. He was saying something about the possible admission of young Roxbury into the new firm, apropos of the encounter of Mr Millar and Amy.

"Harry is very close about his affairs," said Graeme, with a little vexation. "Mrs Gridley gave us that among other pieces of news, to-day. I am not sure that I did not deny it, decidedly. It is rather awkward when all the town knows of our affairs, before we know them ourselves."

"Awkward, indeed!" said Arthur, laughing. "But then this partnership is hardly our affair, and Mrs Gridley is not all the town, though she is not to be lightlified, where the spreading of news is concerned; and she tells things before they happen, it seems, for this is not settled, yet, and may never be. It would do well for some things."

But Graeme could not listen to this, or to anything else, just then.

She was wondering whether Rose had seen Charles Millar and Miss Roxbury, and hoping she had not. And then she considered a moment whether she might not ask Arthur to say nothing about meeting them; but she could not do it without making it seem to herself that she was betraying her sister. And yet, how foolish such a thought was; for Rose had nothing to betray, she said, a little anxiously, to herself. She repeated it more firmly, however, when they came to the corner of the street where f.a.n.n.y and Rose were waiting for them, and laughing and talking merrily together. If Rose felt any vexation, she hid it well.

"I will ask f.a.n.n.y whom they met. No, I will not," said Graeme, to herself, again. "Why should Rose care. It is only I who have been foolish. They have known each other so long, it would have happened long ago, if it had been to happen. It would have been very nice for some things. And it might have been, if Rose had cared for him. He cared for her, I am quite sure. Who would not? But she does not care for him. I hope she does not care for him. Oh! I could not go through all that again! Oh, my darling, my darling!"

It was growing dark, happily, or her face might have betrayed what Graeme was thinking. She started a little when her sister said,--

"Graeme, do you think it would be extravagant in me to wish for a new velvet jacket?"

"Not very extravagant just to wish for one," said Graeme, dubiously.

Rose laughed.

"I might as well wish for a gown, too, while I am wishing, I suppose, you think. No, but I do admire those little jackets so much. I might cut over my winter one, but it would be a waste of material, and something lighter and less expensive would do. It wouldn't take much, they are worn so small. What do you think about it, Graeme?"

"If you can afford it. They are very pretty, certainly."

"Yes, are they not? But, after all, I daresay I am foolish to wish for one."

"Why, as to that, if you have set your heart on one, I daresay we can manage it between us."

"Oh! as to setting my heart on it, I can't quite say that. It is not wise to set one's heart on what one is not sure of getting--or on things that perish with the using--which is emphatically true of jackets. This one has faded a great deal more than it ought to have done, considering the cost," added she, looking gravely down at her sleeve.

There was no time for more.

"Here we are," said f.a.n.n.y, as they all came up to the door. "How pleasant it has been, and how much longer the days are getting. We will all come to meet you again, dear. I only hope baby has been good."

"She did not see them," said Graeme, to herself, "or she does not care.

If she had seen them she would have said so, of course, unless--. I will watch her. I shall see if there is any difference. But she cannot hide it from me, if she is vexed or troubled. I am quite sure of that."

If there was one among them that night more silent than usual, or less cheerful, it certainly was not Rose. She was just what she always was.

She was not lively and talkative, as though she had anything to hide; nor did she go to the piano, and play on constantly and noisily, as she sometimes did when she was vexed or impatient. She was just as usual.

She came into Graeme's room and sat down for a few minutes of quiet, just as she usually did. She did not stay very long, but she did not hurry away as though she wished to be alone, and her mind was full of the velvet jacket still, it seemed, though she did not speak quite so eagerly about it as she had done at first. Still it was an important matter, beyond all other matters for the time, and when she went away she laughingly confessed that she ought to be ashamed to care so much about so small a matter, and begged her sister not to think her altogether vain and foolish. And then Graeme said to herself, again, that Rose did not care, she was quite sure, and very glad and thankful.

Glad and thankful! Yet, Graeme watched her sister next day, and for many days, with eyes which even f.a.n.n.y could see were wistful and anxious. Rose did not see it, or she did not say so. She was not sad in the least degree, yet not too cheerful. She was just as usual, Graeme a.s.sured herself many times, when anxious thoughts would come; and so she was, as far as any one could see.

When Mr Millar called the first time after the night when Graeme had met him with Miss Roxbury, Rose was not at home. He had seen her going into the house next door, as he was coming up the street, he told Mrs Elliott, when she wondered what had become of her. She did not come in till late. She had been beguiled into playing and singing any number of duets and trios with the young Gilberts, she said, and she had got a new song that would just suit f.a.n.n.y's voice, and f.a.n.n.y must come and try it.

And then, she appealed to Arthur, whether it was a proper thing for his wife to give up all her music except nursery rhymes, and carried her in triumph to the piano, where they amused themselves till baby wanted mamma. She was just as friendly as usual with Mr Millar during the short time he stayed after that--rather more so, perhaps, for she reminded him of a book which he had promised to bring and had forgotten.

He brought it the very next night, but Rose, unhappily, had toothache, and could not come down. She was not "making believe," Graeme a.s.sured herself when she went up-stairs, for her face was flushed, and her hands were hot, and she paid a visit to the dentist next morning. In a day or two Harry came home, and Mr Millar came and went with him as usual, and was very quiet and grave, as had come to be his way of late, and to all appearance everything went on as before.

"Graeme," said f.a.n.n.y, confidentially, one night when all but Rose were sitting together, "I saw the _prettiest_ velvet jacket to-day! It was trimmed in quite a new style, quite simply, too. I asked the price."

"And were astonished at its cheapness," said Harry.

"For baby, I suppose?" said Arthur.

"For baby! A velvet jacket! What are you thinking of, Arthur?" said f.a.n.n.y, answering her husband first. "No, Harry, I was not astonished at the cheapness. But it was a beauty, and not very dear, considering."

"And it is for baby's mamma, then," said Arthur, making believe to take out his pocket book. f.a.n.n.y shook her head.

"I have any number of jackets," said she.

"But, then, you have worn them any number of times," said Harry.

"They are as good as new, but old-fashioned? Eh, f.a.n.n.y?" said her husband.

"Three weeks behind the latest style," said Harry.

"Nonsense, Arthur! What do you know about jackets, Harry? But, Graeme, Rosie ought to have it. You know, she wants one so much."