Paddy The Next Best Thing Part 37

He leaned back presently with a little sigh.

"I'd rather have thought of you running wild at Omeath still," he said, "but it can't be helped, and I shall have to make the best of it.

Perhaps, sometimes you'll be glad to feel there's some one thinking of you, some one awfully sorry for you, across the sea. At least, I hope you won't forget altogether?"

Still Paddy kept her face averted.

"I shall not forget," was all she would say.

"I wonder if it would be too much to ask for an occasional letter," he went on. "Perhaps, if you remembered what a boon it would be to the exile--?"

"Oh, yes, I'll write to you sometimes," with frankness. "I dare say I shall be glad to air my opinions upon London and things generally, now and again."

"Not so glad as I shall be to get them. How I wish I could have been here and, perhaps, helped you all a little, and still had the good position. I could at least have taken you to theatres, and down the river."

"It would have been nice," she a.s.sented.

"I may get back in four years," he continued, "but hardly before."

"When do you sail?"

"Next week."

"Next week!" in astonishment. "How near it seems."

"Yes." He hesitated. "May I come and see you again!"

"Of course you must come and say good-by."

"Very well then. Next Friday evening!"

It was agreed so, and just then Mrs Adair and the doctor came in, and after a little Ted rose to go.

The following Friday, as luck would have it, Basil took it into his head to remain at home, and ensconced himself in the drawing-room as if he meant to stay. When Ted arrived he was still there, and Paddy felt vexed. Her feelings, however, were nothing to Ted's. He would gladly have picked the young man up by his collar and dropped him out of the window into the street below. After half-an-hour of vain efforts to keep the conversation going naturally, the kindly doctor himself came to the rescue.

"I'm sure these young people would like to talk over old times together without us," he said, "as they're not to meet again for so long. Come along, my dear, we'll go to my room as usual, and Basil can come too."

Basil looked annoyed, but could hardly do other than follow the others from the room, though he loftily declined the invitation to the surgery.

"Is that young man your cousin!" asked Ted when they were alone.

"Yes, but I'm not proud of the relationship," said outspoken Paddy.

Ted only smiled. He could afford to be more magnanimous now he had gone. He got up and strolled round the room, not because he was tired of sitting at all, but because he was thus enabled to make an entirely free choice of where he would sit down again. Paddy was on the sofa, so as it is much easier to talk to anyone from the same sofa, instead of shouting from another chair, he chose the vacant s.p.a.ce beside her.

Paddy fidgeted with her hands, and again took to studying the glowing coals as if she had never seen a fire before.

"Do you know I have taken a great liberty?" he said presently.

"Yes!" looking up.

"I've--well, I've taken upon myself to bring you a small talisman. You won't be angry with me?"

"I think it is very nice of you."

"And you'll accept it?" eagerly.

"What is it?" turning to the coals again.

Ted took a little parcel from his pocket, and unfolded a very valuable old gold coin with a hole in it.

"It's a lucky coin," he said. "I noticed you had a chain bracelet and I thought, perhaps, you wouldn't mind letting me fix it on for you. It's rather a rare one. My father was a great collector, and it used to belong to him."

"Oh! but you mustn't give it to me then," she cried.

"Yes, I want to," firmly, "and I am going to fix it on myself."

She gave him her bracelet, impelled by some unseen force, and watched him silently while he carefully fixed the coin to one of the links. A little while afterward he wrung her hand, looked a whole world of love into her eyes, and hurried away.

When Paddy was alone, she became unusually thoughtful, and fingered the coin gently. Then for the first time she discovered something had been engraved on it, and held it curiously to the light. In small writing, across the centre, were the two words, "Dinna forget," and underneath the date of the morrow when his ship would sail.

"Poor Ted," murmured Paddy softly, and a little flush crept into her white cheeks.

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.

THE NEW HOME.

It was not until March, when Paddy had been in London over two months, that her mother and Eileen joined her. By that time she and the doctor had the furniture all in place and everything ready. A letter Paddy received the last day rather surprised her.

"Do not meet us," Eileen wrote, "nor wait at uncle's for us. We particularly want to receive you in our own little home, and shall be eagerly watching for you about six o'clock."

Paddy thought it rather queer, but fell in with their wishes, and went off as usual to her cla.s.ses. When she reached home in the evening Eileen was watching at the little front bow-window and flew to the door, her mother following closely, and none of the three knew quite whether to laugh or cry, they were all so glad and so sad together.

"It's just good to have a home again," said Paddy, and bustled into the little sitting-room while her mother and Eileen exchanged glances. No sooner had she entered than she gave a cry of delight, for there, on each side of the fireplace, in their usual manner, sat the two aunties.

The next moment they were both pleading for mercy in stifled tones beneath her vigorous hugs.

"You dear, _dear_, dear aunties!" she cried; "to come all this long way at such a cold time of year. How I just love you both! I shall have to go on hugging you all the evening. However did you make up your minds to come?"

"Well, you see, dear," said Aunt Jane, "we could never have rested content without being quite sure you were all as comfortable as circ.u.mstances would permit, and so we felt the only thing to do was to come and see for ourselves."

"Yes," nodded little Miss Mary, "we have come to see for ourselves."

The tea-table caught Paddy's eye then, and she had to go into raptures over again.

"Omeath eggs!" she cried. "Omeath ham!--cream! honey!--marmalade!-- parsonage tea cakes!--parsonage scones--parsonage apple pie! Oh, goodness! how ill I shall be to-morrow! Was ever such a delicious-looking meal! I shall be practising dispensing upon the whole household, I expect, in a few hours." And then, just to relieve her feelings, she started hugging everybody over again, until the two poor little ladies' caps were at such an impossible angle they were obliged to retire to put them straight.

"If only Jack were here," Paddy said longingly, as they sat down, "what a lovely occasion for a scramble it would be!"

"We have had a letter from him," said Miss Jane, in a glad voice. "You shall see it afterward. He has reached Buenos Aires safely and had a good voyage, and he gives a wonderful description of the flowers and loveliness of Montevideo. It is nice to think that the boy is seeing something of the world at last. We ought to have sent him abroad before. I am afraid we were very selfish." And little Miss Mary chimed in with mournful agreement.

"Oh, no, you weren't," a.s.serted Paddy; "nothing of the kind. Jack was lazy, and I encouraged him, and it just serves us both right to have to work hard now."