The Fortunes of the Farrells Part 17

"Well," he conceded magnanimously, "perhaps the champing was the more in evidence. I was not citing myself as a model, Miss Mollie. I know quite well that--that I might be more patient than I am."

"More patient! More! You are not patient at all. You are the most impatient person I ever met. If anyone dares even to have a different opinion from you, you can hardly contain yourself. I wish you could see your face! You look like this."

Mollie drew herself up, making a valiant attempt to draw her eyebrows together, send out lightning sparks from her eyes, inflate her nostrils, and tug the ends of an imaginary moustache at one and the same time; and succeeded in looking at once so pretty and so comical that, instead of being convicted, Jack laughed more heartily than before.

"As bad as that? Really? I must be ferocious! It's rather unkind of you to pitch into me like this, Miss Mollie, when I have just been paying you compliments. It's a good thing I am going away so soon, as I am such a desperate character. There is no saying to what lengths Mr Farrell and I might get if we were long together."

"Oh!" Mollie's face sobered, and a little chill came over her spirits.

"You are still determined, then? Nothing has happened to make you change your mind?"

"What should have happened?" replied Jack the ungallant. "There has been nothing behind the scenes, Miss Mollie--nothing that you do not know of. Only I prefer to go back to my work--that's all. I consented to remain for a week to please Mr Farrell, but I don't see that I am called upon to make any further sacrifice. I have my life's work before me, and just now it needs all the attention I can give it. Besides, Mr Farrell and I would never get on; I should be a disturbing element which would not improve matters for any of you. Between ourselves, I think there is little doubt who will be the Chosen, as you express it. Your sister is evidently first in favour. Witness your experience a few minutes ago."

Mollie stared before her, thoughtful and absent-minded. One word in Jack's speech had detached itself from the rest and printed itself on her brain. Sacrifice! He had stayed at the Court for a week as a matter of necessity, and did not feel called upon to sacrifice his inclinations any further. Sacrifice, indeed! The word rankled the more as she realised how differently she herself had described the past five days, and how high Jack Melland's presence had ranked among the pleasures of the new life. When she projected her thoughts into the future, and imagined living through the same scenes without his companionship, it was extraordinary how flat and dull they suddenly became. But he called it a "sacrifice" to stay away from a dingy, dreary office, and preferred the society of his partner to all the Mollie Farrells in the world! He liked her, of course--she could not pretend to doubt that; but just as a grown man might care for an amusing child who served to while away an idle hour, but who was not worth the trouble of a serious thought.

"He thinks I am shallow," thought Mollie sorrowfully, and then suddenly inverted the sentence. "Am I shallow?" she asked herself, with an uneasy doubt creeping over her self-complacency. "I expect I am, for I am content with the surface of things, and like to laugh better than to think. But I'm twenty; I don't want to be treated as a child all my life. It's horrid of him to talk of sacrifices!"

Thoughts fly quickly, but, even so, the pause was long enough to be unusual. Jack looked inquiringly at the thoughtful face, and said smilingly--

"Why, Miss Mollie, you look quite sober! I never saw you so serious before. Is that because I said that your sister was preferred before you?"

That aroused Mollie to a flash of indignation.

"No, indeed; I am not so mean. I'd almost sooner Ruth had things than myself, for I'd have all the fun and none of the trouble. Besides, she wants it more than I do, and would be a hundred times more disappointed to do without. And then you must not blame Uncle Bernard too much. He had a good reason for saying what he did. I deserved it.--You will never guess what I did."

Jack looked amused and curious.

"Nothing very dreadful, I feel sure. You are too hard on yourself, Miss Mollie."

"I asked him for heaps of money to buy heaps of new clothes--"

Jack's whistle of amazement was too involuntary to be controlled. He tried his best to retrieve himself by an expression of unconcern, but the pretence was so apparent that Mollie laughed at the sight, albeit a trifle ruefully.

"Do you mean to tell me seriously that you asked Mr Farrell for money?"

"Yes, I did. I asked him on Wednesday. It seemed the only thing to do, as he wants us to entertain his friends, and go out whenever we are asked, and we hadn't enough clothes to go in. Ruth wouldn't ask, so I had to do it. We have no evening-dresses in the world except those black things that you see every night, and we can't live in them for three months like a man in his dress suit."

"They are very pretty dresses. I am sure you always look charming."

"Oh, don't feel bound to be flattering, I hate obvious compliments!"

cried Mollie irritably. She was surprised to realise how irritable she felt. "I only told you because it was mean to let poor Uncle Bernard get the blame." She paused, and over her face flashed one of those sudden radiant changes of expression which were so fascinating to behold. Her eyes shone, her lips curled, a dimple dipped in her cheek.

"But he _did_ give it to me--he gave me more than I asked--carte blanche, to spend as much as I liked! Next Tuesday morning as ever is, we are going up to town to shop with Mrs Thornton as a.s.sistant. Think of it! Think of it! Oxford Street, Regent Street, Bond Street--just to look in at all the windows in turn, and buy what one likes best.

Hats,"--two eager hands went up to her head--"dresses"--they waved descriptively in the air--"coats; fripperies of all descriptions, delicious blouses for every occasion, and evening-dresses!--oh, chiffon and lace and sequins, and everything that is fascinating! I've never had anything but the most useful and long-suffering garments, though I have yearned to be fluffy, and now I shall be as fluffy as I can be made! Think of me, all in tulle and silver gauze, with a train yards long, all lined with frills and _frills_ of chiffon!" cried Mollie ecstatically, tilting her head over her shoulder, and pushing out her short skirt with a little slippered foot as if it were already the train of which she spoke.

"Indeed, I will think of you! I wish I could do more than think; I should like to see you into the bargain. It is hard lines that I have to leave before the exhibition opens."

"Oh, pray don't pose as an object of pity! Whose fault is it that you are leaving at all?" retorted Mollie quickly. "You have made up your mind to go, and it's a matter of pride with you that nothing or n.o.body shall prevent you. My poor fineries would be a very weak inducement; but you will have to reckon with Uncle Bernard before you get away, and I don't think he will be easy to oppose."

Jack Melland straightened himself, and his nostrils dilated in characteristic, high-spirited fashion.

"When I make up my mind I never give way," he said slowly.

Mollie tossed her head defiantly.

"So you say; but there is something even stronger than will, Mr Melland."

"And that is--"

"Fate!" cried Mollie dramatically.

The blue eyes and the brown met in a flashing glance; then the girl dropped a demure curtsey, and ran lightly upstairs.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

IN THE VILLAGE CHURCH.

The shopping expedition was, by common consent, postponed until the middle of the following week, when Jack Melland would have taken his departure.

"Let us make hay while the sun shines. Three is an abominable number, especially when you happen to be the third," said Mollie, sighing. "Mr Druce admires you very much, Ruth. I often see him staring at you when you are not looking; but when I appear upon the scene his eyelids droop, and he does not deign even to glance in my direction. He puzzles me a good deal, as a rule. I rather fancy myself as a judge of character, but I can't decide whether he is really a model of virtue, or a villain in disguise."

Ruth made a movement of impatience.

"How exaggerated you are, Mollie! Why must you rush off to extremes in that foolish fashion? Mr Druce is probably neither one nor the other, but just an ordinary combination of faults and virtues. He is kind and considerate to Uncle Bernard, and very chivalrous to us;--a hundred times more so than Jack Melland, who certainly does not err on the side of politeness. Personally, I don't think any the less highly of people because they are little reserved and uncommunicative at first. It will be time enough to judge Mr Druce's character when we have known him for weeks, instead of days."

"Humph! I believe in first impressions," insisted Mollie obstinately; "and so do you, really, or you would not bristle up when I dare to cast a doubt on his excellence. You are going to like him, Ruth, I can see that quite clearly, and he admires you; so, as I said before, I shall be the poor little pig who stays at home, while you two wander abroad together. It's not exactly the programme which my fancy painted when we came down; but if I devote myself to Uncle Bernard, and cut you both out, I shall have the best of it, after all. Perhaps, too I may make friends with someone in the neighbourhood,--there is always the chance of that, and I do love meeting new people. I suppose callers will begin to arrive after we have made our first public appearance at church to- morrow. I am quite excited at the prospect of seeing all the people-- aren't you?"

"I am not going," said Ruth.

And when Mollie exclaimed and cross-questioned, she flushed uncomfortably, but did not refuse to answer.

"I have made up my mind to go to early service, but not again at eleven o'clock. It's not that I don't want to go; it's because I want to go so much--for the wrong reasons! Ever so many times during the last few days I have caught myself thinking about it, and imagining the scene-- everybody staring at us, while we sit in the squire's pew trying to look unconscious, but really enjoying it all the time, and building castles in the air about the future, when we may have a right to be there. We should be thinking most of all of ourselves, and that's not a right spirit in which to go to church; so I'm not going. I'm disappointed, but I've made up my mind."

Mollie leant her head on her hand and gazed thoughtfully before her.

The sisters were seated in the great round window of their bedroom, from which such a glorious view of the surrounding country could be obtained; and as Mollie's eyes wandered from the blue of the sky to the fresh green of the trees, and anon to the patches of golden daffodils among the gra.s.s, a wonderful sweetness softened her young face.

"But G.o.d understands!" she said gently. "He made girls, so He must know how they feel. This is a great occasion for us, and it is natural that we should be excited and a little bit self-engrossed. Mother would think it natural, and make excuses for us, even if we were carried away by our new importance; and G.o.d is kinder and more forgiving than mother.

Perhaps, when one is quite old and staid, it is easy to sit through a service and never think of self; but it is difficult when one is young.

I used to be miserable because every time I had a new hat or dress, or anything that was fresh, I couldn't help remembering it and being pleased that I looked so nice, and hoping that other people liked it too but when I thought it over I came to the conclusion that it was only natural. Look at that lovely view!" She waved her hand expressively from right to left. "When G.o.d made the world so beautiful and so full of colour, He must mean us to love pretty things without being ashamed of it; so now I just thank Him for the new things in my prayers, and remember them as some of the things to be thankful for. I'm sure it's the best way. It's cowardice to stay at home because we are afraid of a temptation. Surely it would be far better to go, to thank G.o.d for giving us this good time, and to ask Him to send us nice friends, and, if it be His will, to let Uncle Bernard leave us the Court, so that we may help them all at home!"

She broke off, looking round half timidly in Ruth's face, for it was reversing the usual roles to find herself laying down the law as to right and wrong to the serious-minded elder sister. Would Ruth be annoyed--shocked--disapproving? It appeared that she was not, for the troubled lines had gradually smoothed away from her forehead, and she cried heartily--

"Yes, you are right. I feel you are! Thank you for putting it so plainly, dear. I _did_ want to go to church, and now my conscience will be clear, so I can go comfortably, feeling it is the right thing. But oh, Mollie, shall we all four be praying, one against the other, each one wanting to disappoint the others, and keep the Court for himself?"

"Jack Melland won't, for one; and I won't for another. I'm not sure that I want it and all the responsibility that goes in its train. I'd honestly rather it were yours, dear; then I could come and sponge upon you as often as I liked."

"Sponge!" echoed Ruth reproachfully. "As if it would be any pleasure to me if you were not here! What would become of poor Berengaria without her Lucille? We are so grand in real life now that we forget the dear old game; but, when we are back in Attica, we shall be able to play it better than ever, now that we really know what it feels like to be rich and have everything one wants!"

Mollie did not answer, and both girls sat silently gazing before them, while their thoughts wandered northwards to a shabby, crowded house, and to a sloping-roofed attic under the leads, in which so many hours had been spent. Mollie smiled, remembering the little make-shifts and contrivances, seeing the humour of them, and feeling again the glow of triumph with which each difficulty had been surmounted.