The Daughters of a Genius Part 20

She looked coquettishly at the Hermit, who was immediately seized with a paroxysm of embarra.s.sment, twitched nervous fingers, and looked as supremely miserable as if his last hour had come. With the energy of despair he managed to blurt out a few words to the effect that--"Stephen--Mr Charrington--home presently--like to be present.

After dinner, perhaps--could go together if Miss Caldecott kindly--left address."

"Well, _he_ doesn't know how to flirt!" Minnie exclaimed blightingly five minutes later as she and Hope stood in the little hall for a few parting words. "Can't understand a man like that. No patience with him either. No relation of yours, I hope, dear?"

"None whatever; but, oh Minnie, you should not want to flirt when you are engaged! I do hope you are not going to be married just because you are tired and discouraged and need a rest. I do trust you are not making a mistake," cried Hope earnestly. "Are you quite sure you care for hint, and can be happy?"

Miss Caldecott laughed lightly. "My dear," she said, "if I look thirty in my best new veil, it is more than time I was married. And I am so tired of paying my own bills! Jack is very well off, and I intend to make his money fly. It will be a new experience to spend money that some one else has earned." She paused, looked for a moment into Hope's wistful face, and added impulsively, "If you will promise faithfully never to tell Jack if you should meet him, I'll let you into a secret.

I'm frightfully happy! I've been in love with him for years. It was difficult to make up my mind when I had been my own mistress for so long, but now that I _have_ given in, I wouldn't go back for the world.

It is nice to be loved and taken care of--far nicer than being independent. You will find that out for yourself some day soon."

"Dear Minnie, I am so glad! I do congratulate you with all my heart; and 'Jack' too. You will make such a nice, cheerful, good-tempered wife!" cried Hope bravely; whereat Miss Minnie indulged in an elephantine byplay of bashfulness, and ran rustling down the staircase.

"An appalling woman!" the Hermit was reiterating in the drawing-room; but none of the sisters would agree with this denunciation.

"She doesn't wear her heart on her sleeve; neither do we," maintained Hope. "She is ever so much nicer when you know her well."

"She shows great perspicuity in her judgment. Did you hear her say that I was sure to get on?" cried Madge; and Theo smiled as at a pleasant recollection.

"Did you notice how her face softened when we spoke of our trouble? Her lips drooped, and her eyes grew so soft and liquid. My next heroine shall have eyes like that."

"And if she helps us to find Barney," sighed Philippa softly, "I shall bless the name of Minnie Caldecott as long as I live."

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

REJOICINGS.

It can be imagined with what eagerness Steve was greeted on his return from the City that evening, how he was hurried through his dinner, and despatched forthwith, in company with the Hermit, to interview "Jim,"

otherwise Mr James Matthews. The time of waiting seemed unbearably long, but when the two men returned it was at once evident that they were the bearers of good news. The companion of the newspaper shop had been found at last, while Barney himself was now on his way to the Cape, working for his pa.s.sage in the capacity of steward!

Briefly, the tale which Mr Matthews had to tell was as follows. He had made the boy's acquaintance in a luncheon-bar, had been attracted by his breezy, high spirits, and taken some pains to arrange further meetings.

The two had attended theatres and concerts together, and finally Barney had visited his new friend in his rooms, and become the confidant of certain betting transactions in which he was in the habit of indulging.

The boy had begun to bet on his own account, had been unlucky, and had called at the shipping office one day, declaring himself in trouble at home, and anxious to get out of the country for a time at least Mr Matthews told him that his only chance was to ship as a steward, and Barney, being not only willing but eager, was sent to wait his turn at Southampton, and had been fortunate in finding an opening three days after his arrival. "Jim," as Miss Caldecott had called him, appeared to be a good-natured, easy-going individual with little sense of responsibility. When sternly questioned by Steve as to whether he considered it right to encourage a boy of seventeen to bet, he smilingly declared that "every one did it--even the little office-boys put their coppers on the races;" and refused altogether to acknowledge that he should have consulted Barney's friends before sending him abroad.

"But you were the very people he wanted to avoid. There is no need to worry yourself, my good sir. He has signed for the round voyage, and you will see him back in a couple of months, all the better for having to rough it a bit and finding out what hard work means."

This was his opinion, and, on the whole, Barney's brother and sisters were inclined to agree. After the suspense of the past weeks it was a blessed relief to hear definite news, and, with a good ship and a good captain, there was little fear of the boy's safety. There was just a chance that letters written at once might arrive at Capetown before the vessel sailed on her homeward voyage, and Philippa was already rehearsing loving messages, when Madge cried eagerly:

"Can't we _do_ something to celebrate the occasion? Not to-night, I mean, but to-morrow. We have been in the depths for so long that we need a little festivity. I'm _tired_ of being miserable!"

She felt a pa.s.sing wonder as to the moaning of Hope's quick frown, but Theo chimed in with an eager a.s.sent, and even the grave Steve stretched himself, as if throwing off a burden, and looked pleased at the suggestion.

"I believe we should all be the better for a change. There has been too much work and too little play lately to be good for any of us. The question is, what can we do that is cheap and exciting!"

Madge's grimace was the reverse of approving.

"The greatest change we could have would be to be expensive and lazy.

It is not my idea of pleasure to stand shivering in a queue for a couple of hours, and hunt for omnibuses after a performance. I want to see how the other people live--the people who toil not, neither wear their last year's clothes! I should like to dine at the Carlton, and sit in the hall after dinner watching the coming and going--the pretty girls in their fashion-plate cloaks, and the old ladies in sables and diamonds, going out to theatres and evening receptions--and watch the flirtations, and listen to Theo making up stories. It would be so good for us both; we should get lots of ideas."

"I'm afraid"--began Steve the prudent, but the Hermit did not give him time to finish.

"I will engage a table at the Carlton to-morrow morning," he cried.

"You shall all come and dine with me. It is a capital idea. I'm very much obliged to Miss Madge for suggesting it."

Polite murmurs of dissent greeted this speech. Steve cried, "No, no, my dear fellow; we couldn't think of it." Philippa blushed, and declared, "You mustn't, Mr Neil; you really mustn't." But the Hermit was firm and would brook no refusal.

"It is impossible for me to entertain at home, and it is quite time that you dined with me for a change. I have been your guest for about fifty Sunday-night suppers."

"Cold roast beef and beetroot in winter; cold lamb and mint-sauce in summer! There is an appalling lack of variety in the menus of an English household," said Madge, with an expressive grimace. "When I am married I shall make a point of serving my loved one with constant surprises."

"You will find it more difficult than painting pictures. What is one to do in winter, when poultry is so dear and none of the nice spring things have come in?" queried the dear, literal Martha, looking straight at the Hermit as she spoke, as if asking him to vindicate her housekeeping abilities; the which he proceeded to do with a zeal untempered by knowledge, while Hope studied his face with anxious eyes, and Madge sat silent, a monument of long-chinned solemnity.

No further objections were made to the Hermit's invitation--which, in truth, was too tempting to be refused--and the next morning was spent in hunting up old fineries, turning ribbons, washing laces, and sewing them on again in as near an imitation of the latest Parisian fashion as could be obtained with insufficient quant.i.ties and 'prentice fingers.

"To think that it is eighteen months since I wore an evening-dress!"

sighed Madge tragically. "Do you remember how I talked of holding a _salon_ for all the greatest intellects in London! It is rather a come-down to reflect that the Hermit is the only youngish man who has crossed this threshold since we came. And he is no good to me either, for"--She looked round the room to make sure that Philippa was not present. "I'll tell you a secret, Theo. He is--not falling--he could not do anything so precipitate--but _crawling_ in love with Phil; but he will never find it out unless somebody tells him!"

"I'll tell you another stale item. Phil is crawling in love with him too; but wild horses wouldn't make her confess it. If he ever winds himself up to proposing, she will refuse him for the sake of the family and never say a word about it, but only snap off our heads, and grow so cross and cantankerous that there will be no living with her."

This from Theo. The other ungrateful sister shrugged her shoulders and exclaimed, "What a nuisance it is when people _will_ make martyrs of themselves! Now, it would really be very nice if Phil lived on the next landing, and could run in and out half-a-dozen times a day; and though the Hermit is not my pa.s.sion, he is a worthy old thing, and would make a devoted husband. It strikes me, my dear, that you and I will have to take this matter in hand. It is no use asking Hope. She has grown so proper lately that I am quite afraid of her."

"Oh no, we won't ask Hope!" said Theo quickly. "But really it would be rather fun to see what we could do--as good as a story in real life.

The first step is to make them aware of their own feelings. But how is it to be done?"

"We might try jealousy. How would it be if I flirted with him violently under her very eyes?"

"He would be horribly bored, without understanding in the least what you were trying to do, and Phil would forbid him the house in case you were blighted in your youthful affections."

"Should we take him aside, then, and drop a casual hint of the curate who proposed to her in Leabourne?"

"My dear, he would take fright on the moment and consider it his duty to stand aside in favour of a better man. He is so absurdly quixotic that he would positively enjoy immolating himself."

"What about pity, then? Snub Phil violently in his presence, and confide to her in secret that his cough sounds consumptive! That would make them sorry for each other, you see, and rouse a desire to help.

They would sympathise, and grow sentimental, and--"

"It might do," said Theo thoughtfully. "Really, Madge, you ought to write instead of me; you are far more inventive. My only idea is propinquity. Impress upon Phil that the Hermit is her best counsellor in all matters concerning Barney, and advise her to talk things over quietly with him when Steve is not present. The Hermit has about as much worldly wisdom as a babe in arms, and consequently would be immensely flattered by being asked to impart it. He will repeat all her suggestions with an air of wisdom, and Phil will dote upon him for helping her to her own way."

"Propinquity does it! We will be as innocent as cherubs, and have smashing headaches when he comes to call. Also, it might be well to take a more active share in the housekeeping department, in order to show Phil that she is not so indispensable as she imagines. We must be cruel to be kind."

Theo's shoulders shook with laughter, and just at that moment in marched Philippa herself, looking round with an air of surprise.

"What is the matter with you two this morning! You are giggling like a couple of schoolgirls."

"We are so excited at the prospect of this evening! What have _you_ been so busy about in your room? Writing to Barney?"

"N-not just lately," faltered Phil, and blushed in guilty fashion. As a matter of fact she had been trying experiments in hairdressing, and studying her profile to see which arrangement gave the best effect to-- er--to any one who happened to be seated by her side! "How ore you getting on with your work?" she asked, eager to change the subject, when Madge held up the venerable chiffon bodice on which she had been sewing "applications" of lace, and regarded it with critical approval.

"Subdued elegance is to be the keynote of my costume. I shall wear no jewels! I don't think it is in good taste for a young girl to wear valuable diamonds. What do you think of the arrangement of lace? Exact copy of one of Lady G.o.diva's dinner-dresses as drawn in last week's _Queen_. Wouldn't it be thrilling if I were mistaken for her and written about in the papers? The only drop of bitterness in my cup is the want of an evening-cloak. It does give one away so horribly to go in a golf-cape!"