The God in the Car Part 21

CHAPTER X.

A LADY'S BIT OF WORK.

The Dennison children, after a two nights' banishment, had come down to dessert again. They had been in sore disgrace, caused (it was stated to Mrs. Cormack, who had been invited to dine _en famille_) by a grave breach of hospitality and good manners which Madge had led the younger ones--who tried to look plaintively innocent--into committing.

The Carlin children had come to tea, and a great dissension had arisen between the two parties. The Carlins had belauded the generous donor of ices; Madge had taken up the cudgels fiercely on Tom Loring's behalf, and Dora and Alfred had backed her up. Each side proceeded from praise of its own favourite to sneers--by no means covert--at the other's man, and the feud had pa.s.sed from the stage of words to that of deeds before it was discovered by the superior powers and crushed. On the hosts, of course, the blame had to fall; they were sent to bed, while the guests drove off in triumph, comforted by sweets and shillings. Madge did not think, or pretend to think, that this was justice, and her mother's recital of her crimes to Mrs. Cormack, so far from reducing her to penitence, brought back to her cheeks and eyes the glow they had worn when she slapped (there is no use in blinking facts) Jessie Carlin, and told her that she hated Mr. Ruston. Madge Dennison was like her mother in face and temper. That may have been the reason why Harry Dennison squeezed her hand under the table, and by his tacit aid broke the force of his wife's cold reproofs. But there was perhaps another reason also.

Mrs. Cormack said that she was shocked, and looked very much amused. The little history made up for the bore of having the children brought in.

That was a thing she objected to very much; it stopped all rational conversation. But now her curiosity was stirred.

"Why don't you like Mr. Ruston, my child?" she asked Madge.

"I don't dislike him," said Madge, rosy red, and speaking with elaborate slowness. She said it as though it were a lesson she had learnt.

"But why, then," said Mrs. Cormack, whirling her hands, "beat the little Carlin?"

"That was before mamma told me," answered Madge, the two younger ones sitting by, open-mouthed, to hear her explanation.

"Oh, what an obedient child! How I should have liked a little girl like you, darling!"

Madge hated sarcasm, and her feelings towards Mrs. Cormack reflected those of her idol, Tom Loring.

"I don't know what you mean," she said curtly; and then she looked anxiously at her mother.

But Mrs. Dennison was smiling.

"Let her alone, Berthe," she said. "She's been punished. Give her some fruit, Harry."

Harry Dennison piled up the plate eagerly held out to him.

"Who'll give you fruit at Dieppe?" he asked, stroking his daughter's hair.

Mrs. Cormack p.r.i.c.ked up her ears.

"Didn't we tell you?" asked Mrs. Dennison. "Harry can't come for a fortnight. That tiresome old Sir George" (Sir George was the senior partner in Dennison, Sons & Company) "is down with the gout, and Harry's got to stay in town. But I'll give Madge fruit--if she's good."

"Papa gives it me anyhow," said Madge, who preferred unconditional benefits.

Harry laughed dolefully. He had been looking forward to a holiday with his children. Their uninterrupted society would have easily consoled him for the loss of the moor.

"It's an awful bore," he said; "but there's no help for it. Sir George can't put a foot to the ground."

"Anyhow," suggested Mrs. Cormack, "you will be able to help Mr. Ruston with the Omof.a.ga."

"Papa," broke out Madge, her face bright with a really happy idea, which must, she thought, meet with general acceptance, "since you can't come, why shouldn't Tom?"

Mrs. Cormack grew more amused. Oh, it was quite worth while to have the children! They were so good at saying things one couldn't say oneself; and then one could watch the effect. In an impulse of grat.i.tude, she slid a banana on to Madge's plate.

"Marjory Valentine's coming," said Mrs. Dennison. "You like her, don't you, Madge?"

"She's a girl," said Madge scornfully; and Harry, with a laugh, stroked her hair again.

"You're a little flirt," said he.

"But why can't Tom?" persisted Madge, as she attacked the banana. It was Mrs. Cormack's gift, but--_non olet_.

For a moment n.o.body answered. Then Harry Dennison said--not in the least as though he believed it, or expected anybody else to believe it--

"Tom's got to stay and work."

"Have all the gentlemen we know got to stay and work?"

Harry nodded a.s.sent.

Mrs. Cormack was leaning forward. A moment later she sank back, hiding a smile behind her napkin; for Madge observed, in a tone of utter contentment,

"Oh, then, Mr Ruston won't come;" and she wagged her head rea.s.suringly at the open-mouthed little ones. They were satisfied, and fell again to eating.

After a few moments, Mrs. Dennison, who had made no comment on her daughter's inference, swept the flock off to bed, praying Berthe to excuse her temporary absence. It was her habit to go upstairs with them when possible, and Harry would see that coffee came.

"Poor Madge!" said Harry, when the door was shut, "what'll she say when Ruston turns up?"

"Then he does go?"

"I think so. We'd asked him to stay with us, and though he can't do that now, he and young Walter Valentine talk of running over for a few days.

I hope they will."

Mrs. Cormack, playing with her teaspoon, glanced at her host out of the corner of her eye.

"He can go all the better, as I shall be here," continued Harry. "I can look after Omof.a.ga."

Mrs. Cormack rapped the teaspoon sharply on her cup. The man was such a fool. Harry, dimly recognising her irritation, looked up inquiringly; but she hesitated before she spoke. Would it spoil sport or make sport if she stirred a suspicion in him? A thought threw its weight in the balance. Maggie Dennison's friendship had been a trifle condescending, and the grateful friend pictured her under the indignity of enforced explanations, of protests, even of orders to alter her conduct. But how would Harry take a hint? There were men silly enough to resent such hints. Caution was the word.

"Well, I almost wish he wasn't going," she said at last. "For Maggie's sake, I mean. She wants a complete rest."

"Oh, but she likes him. He amuses her. Why, she's tremendously interested in Omof.a.ga, Mrs. Cormack."

"Ah, but he excites her too. We poor women have nerves, Mr. Dennison. It would be much better for her to hear nothing of Omof.a.ga for a few weeks."

"Has she been talking to you much about it?" asked Harry, beginning to feel anxious at his guest's immensely solemn tone.

Indeed, little Mrs. Cormack spoke for the nonce quite like a family physician.

"Oh, yes, about it and him," she replied. "She's never off the subject.

Mr. Loring was half right."

"Tom's objections were based on quite other grounds."