The Daughters of a Genius Part 14

"Sn.o.b!" she cried scornfully; "working himself, and despising others because they try to do the same. Dear Hope, don't look so doleful. You surely won't let yourself be discouraged by a worm like that."

"Oh, it is so hateful!" murmured poor Hope tremulously. "Suppose they _all_ treat us in the same way. You know very well, Madge, that that circular will never see the light."

"Oh, won't it, though? It shall be up on that board before a week is over," returned Madge obstinately; and when breathlessly questioned how and why, she answered imperturbably, "Haven't the slightest idea, but I'll find out a way. Cheer up now, and for goodness' sake don't look as if you were ashamed of yourself. I'd send you home and go the round myself if we could exchange faces for the occasion, but if you will only perk up you can do far better than I. Look smiling and self-possessed, and as if you were rather conferring than asking a favour."

It was admirable advice, but, alas! Hope was not the girl to carry it into effect. Her cheeks would flush; her voice _would_ shake; she looked so unmistakably the amateur that, in spite of her charming appearance, she met with but scant success wherever she went. No one actually refused her circular, but the manner of its acceptance was so lukewarm and careless that it would have depressed the stoutest heart.

Even Madge looked downcast when home was reached, but she was smiling again by dinner-time; and what was more, Philippa and Theo were smiling too, with a mischievous enjoyment which seemed strangely unsympathetic to the crushed adventurer.

For several days no explanation was forthcoming; then came an afternoon when housekeeper and author arrayed themselves in all the splendour they possessed and sallied forth on a mysterious errand. Hope wondered, questioned, and was amiably snubbed for her pains; but at five o'clock back came two flushed, triumphant conspirators, only too eager to tell the tale of their adventures.

"We have been working for you, my dear," cried Phil, nodding cheery encouragements at the dear, pretty sister who had grown to look so pathetically pale and wistful of late; "but the idea came from Madge, so you have to thank her most of all. Well, we sallied forth, and went the round of the shops where you had left your circulars. Theo took one direction, I took another, and we met at the Stores. The first shop I went into was empty, and I had quite a long talk with the man. I wanted to know what entertainment he could provide for a juvenile party. He suggested a magic-lantern--cinematograph--Punch and Judy--conjurer. I looked profoundly bored, and drawled out, 'So terribly commonplace!

Have you nothing _new_?' He declared there was nothing else, and I was feeling very baffled and angry, when suddenly he remembered your circular, and began searching for it in a drawer. I regarded it with judicial calm, thought the terms rather high, but on the whole was much taken with the idea. The difficulty, of course, was to withdraw without settling anything definitely; but some other people came in, and I murmured polite nothings about 'thinking it over,' and beat a retreat.

At the next place my pumping failed, for the wretch had forgotten all about you, or had thrown your circular into the fire. You must send him another with a polite reminder of his promise to find you engagements, 'subject, of course, to the usual commission.' Number three had actually pinned you up on the board, beside the Performing Brothers and the Negro Troupe. He ought to have been an author, for he had a beautiful imagination! When I inquired about you he waxed quite enthusiastic about your abilities and popularity. I regarded him more in joy than in anger, and hoped he embroidered as eloquently to all his customers."

"Oh! oh!" cried Hope, aghast. She was torn in twain between elation and pangs of conscience. "How sweet of you, Phil! But--do you think it is quite right?"

"Why not? Does not every unknown author implore his friends to ask for his books at their libraries and express untold surprise because they are unknown? Why should not we advertise you in your turn?"

"You must be boomed, my dear, or you may wait for ever for an engagement. I was even more bold than Phil," confessed Theo, "for I purposely hung about until other people went into the shop, and then spoke in such a loud voice that they were obliged to hear what I said.

They seemed quite interested, and I left one lady reading the circular and asking questions about you. In another shop I said in an anxious voice, 'I _hope_ she will be able to come to me when I want her. Will it be necessary to engage her a _long_ time ahead?' The man looked as solemn as an owl, and said, 'Well, madam, it would be wise. There is sure to be a rush in the Christmas holidays.' What do you think of that? Won't it be exciting when the letters come in?"

There was no doubt about that, but unfortunately no letters arrived; and the weeks pa.s.sed by, and the Christmas holidays began, and not a mother in the whole Metropolis expressed the slightest desire to engage the services of the "children's charming entertainer." Hope's wistful look each time that the postman's knock came to the door moved her sisters to fresh efforts on her behalf, and an ingeniously worded inquiry was despatched for publication in the pages of a popular fashion magazine:

"Can any lady recommend a new form of entertainment for a children's party? No lanterns, conjurers, or marionettes. Early answer much appreciated."

An early answer was, in fact, in readiness from the hour when the inquiry was posted, wherein Theo was prepared to certify that, having heard Miss Hope Charrington's entertainment (at the mission-room of Saint Paul's Church!), she was able most enthusiastically to recommend it to all mothers and guardians. Alas! the all-important inquiry was one of many more "unavoidably delayed through want of s.p.a.ce," and how to reply to an advertis.e.m.e.nt which had never appeared was a problem which baffled even Madge's ingenuity.

"I shall go to see Minnie Caldecott this afternoon," announced Hope one Tuesday morning when the post had produced nothing more inspiring than a couple of circulars and a coal-bill. "I can't sit here any longer doing nothing, and it is evidently no use writing to her. I have not even heard if the song arrived. Would any one like to come with me and get a peep into professional life?--Theo?"

"Yes," said the author quickly. "It will be 'copy,' and I want it badly. I have quite a stock of heroes and heroines on hand--fascinating creatures, every one--but I can't think what to do with them! Perhaps one might be a public singer. I've given her a lovely voice already.

I'll come, Hope, and make a study of the lady while you discuss business."

A few hours later, therefore, behold the two sisters seated in the warm, flower-scented little room, where the portraits of becurled ladies still smirked from the walls, and the presiding G.o.ddess dispensed tea, and kept up a stream of cheerful, inconsequent babble. She appeared overjoyed to see her visitors, kissed them effusively, addressed Hope affectionately as "Miss What's-your-name," and declared that she remembered her quite well. "You brought me a song with ridiculous words; and you have all come up to town to make your fortunes. It isn't too easy, is it? I'm supposed to be one of the lucky ones, but it is the solemn truth, my dears, that there are only a few pounds between myself and the workhouse. It is a hand-to-mouth business, and what with cabs and gloves, there is precious little to be made out of these suburban engagements. I shall have to get married one of these days.

There is one man now--that is his portrait on the mantelpiece--the one with the big nose! He has been worrying me for years, and I tell him the first time I get a really bad cold on my chest I'll marry him then and there. I could never stand the expense of an illness. Look at that girl laughing! It is your sister, isn't it, dear? What is her name!

Theo! I say, how toney! Are you clever too, Theo? What is your line?"

"I--write!" replied Theo, shrinking in antic.i.p.ation of the question which is fraught with so much humiliation to the would-be author. Of course, Miss Caldecott would instantly want to know what she had written and where it could be found, and then how agonising to be obliged to explain that; with the exception of a few stories in a village paper, not a word of her writing had yet appeared in print! Hope came to the rescue with a reply which was at once tactful and diplomatic, since it turned the conversation into the desired channel.

"I have been keeping her busy lately. She has been writing children's stories for an entertainment which I am hoping to give. I brought one of the advertis.e.m.e.nts to show you, as I thought you might be interested."

The undisguised yawn with which Miss Caldecott greeted this announcement was the reverse of encouraging; but she read the circular with increasing interest, p.r.o.nounced the idea to be "rattling good," and wanted to know who was responsible for the design. "I'll have a programme got up like that some day," she declared; but she yawned again when the girls expatiated on the skill of their artist-sister, and interrupted with another question:

"Have you written any more songs lately?"

Hope looked at her gravely, and found it impossible to keep a tinge of reproach out of her voice as she replied, "Why, of course! You know I have. I have been waiting for weeks to hear what you thought of the one I wrote especially for you."

"Gracious!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Miss Caldecott; "I never got it. I remember now that you _did_ write to me about it, but I get so many letters that I forget half what's in them. I've never seen it, anyway. Perhaps it is in that cupboard with the newspapers. That is my bogy-hole, and if I haven't time to open things I stick them in there, and forget all about them. You can look if you like, dear; I'm too lazy."

There was an air of dignified displeasure in the manner in which Hope crossed the room to avail herself of this permission; but Miss Caldecott drank her tea in blissful unconsciousness, and when the MS was discovered, wrapped in an unopened covering, exclaimed cheerily:

"Think of that now! It would have lain there till doomsday if you hadn't looked. Do you want me to hear it? Strum it over, then, my dear; but I give you notice that I'm full up for this season."

"But--but it was a commission! You _asked_ me to write it," cried Hope, stung into retort by the keenness of her disappointment. "Don't you remember saying you wanted a domestic song about children, to make the mothers cry? You suggested the words yourself, and we carried out your idea."

"I suggested it, did I? How clever of me! I suppose I saw you were disappointed, dear, and wanted to let you down easily. I hate being disagreeable, but I never thought you would take it seriously. Here!

let me see it. I can tell in a moment if it is any good."

She rose, and standing by the piano, glanced over the pages once or twice, then motioned to Hope to play the accompaniment. The next moment the rich, melodious tones filled the room, and Theo held her breath in rapturous enjoyment. What a glorious organ of a voice--how sweet, how full, how true! What a melting tenderness of expression! What skill in seizing on effective phrases and bringing them delicately into prominence! If her eyes had been shut, what a lovely, spirituelle vision she would have pictured as the owner of this wonderful voice!

But, alas! there stood Minnie Caldecott, flushed, fat, and tousled, enveloped in the blue silk tea-gown, which was beginning to show decided signs of age--as far removed from spirituality as it was possible for a human creature to be. She sang the song to its last note, and nodded her head approvingly at its conclusion.

"It is not at all bad, dear. Quite a fetching little song! I could make them howl over that, couldn't I? And it is different from anything I have on hand. I might find room for it sometimes, if we could agree about other things. What was your idea as to terms?"

"Oh, thank you! You ore too kind. I did not think of charging you at all. It would be an advertis.e.m.e.nt for me if you sang it, and that would be sufficient payment."

Hope was fully convinced that she was acting in a generous manner, and Theo agreed with this conclusion, so that it came as a shock to both when Miss Caldecott burst into a peal of laughter, and cried loudly, "Bless your innocent heart! I meant, what are you going to pay _me_?

Didn't you know that we were always paid for taking up a song? That is why we sing such rubbish half the time. I'm a business woman, and can't afford to work for nothing. I'd like to oblige you, dear, and it's a useful little song in its way--I believe I could do something with it-- but I must have my commission."

"Then I am afraid it is no use discussing the subject any longer. I cannot afford to pay anything," said Hope quietly. She had turned very white, but her manner was calm and collected, and she rolled up the song with an air of finality which showed that she meant what she said.

"Perhaps another day, when we are better off--"

"Charmed to see you, dear, at any time. But you'll never get on in the world if you don't pay out a bit at first; or if you _do_, it will be a mighty slow process. You think I'm a wretch, no doubt, but I dare say if the truth were known I'm as hard up as you are yourself; and I have no rich friends to help me. You _have_, and you ought to make them useful. Now, I'll tell you what I _will_ do for you! You mention my name when you hear of any one giving a reception, and every time you get me an engagement I'll sing your song, and you shall play the accompaniment. That would help us both, and I'll do as much for you if I hear of any children's parties coming off."

Hope's thanks were very sweetly expressed, but disappointment was still the predominating feeling, and when the sisters found themselves in the street they exchanged a rueful glance under the light of a lamp.

"It seems as if no one wanted us," sighed Hope sadly. "Whatever we try to do, there are a thousand people who do it a thousand times better. I wonder if we shall _ever_ succeed."

"As Mr Hammond said, it depends upon how much heart-breaking we can stand. We never shall if we lose heart before six months are over,"

said Theo st.u.r.dily. "Cheer up, old girl; those letters will be arriving soon, and then you will be too busy to be depressed."

Hope sighed and was silent. The ache at her heart made disappointment harder to bear, and Miss Caldecott's offer of help seemed at present of little value. Aunt Loftus might, indeed, be willing to engage the services of a professional, but there was no one else of whom such a favour could be asked, and the reflection brought an added sense of friendlessness to the tired girl as she walked home through the crowded streets.

It is always the darkest hour before the dawn. So says the proverb, and in this instance it was fully justified, for no sooner had the girls pa.s.sed the Hermit's door than Philippa and Mudge flew to meet them, each waving a letter in her hand and keeping up a loud, excited chatter.

"For you, Hope! At last! Here they come!"

"A coat of arms. Such lovely paper! Beautiful writing."

"Mine is from one of the agencies. Application from a client, no doubt.

Be quick--be quick! We are dying to read them."

"Why didn't you open them, then? It is your business as well as mine."

Hope opened the agency letter first, and shuddered dramatically at the intelligence that a certain Mrs Annesley would be glad to engage her services for the evening of December the 27th; then came the turn of the second letter, and her sisters saw the pale cheeks deepen into rose as she read its contents.

"It is from a Mrs Welsby, in Belgrave Square, a sister of the Mr Merrilies who was at The Shanty. He has told her about me, and she wants me for the 29th. I--I think I shall take a berth on an Atlantic liner and emigrate. I daren't face it. I shall make an idiot of myself; I know I shall."

"All right. If you don't go--_I shall_!" cried Madge. "I can sing too--in a fashion--and that money would be remarkably useful to us just now. Choose between yourself and me; that is the position."