The Lion's Share Part 23

"Does Miss Nickall live here?" asked Audrey.

"Aye! She does!" came the answer, with a northern accent.

"We've come to see how she is."

"Happen ye'd better step inside, then," said the young woman.

They stepped inside to an enormous and obscure interior; the guardian banged the door, and negligently led them forward.

"It is a large house," Miss Ingate ventured, against the silent intimidation of the place.

"One o' them rich uns," said the guardian. "She lends it to the Cause when she doesn't want it herself, to show her sympathy. Saves her a caretaker--they all know I'm one to look right well after a house."

Having pa.s.sed two very s.p.a.cious rooms and a wide staircase, she opened the door of a smaller but still a considerable room.

"Here y'are," she muttered.

This room, like the others, was thoroughly sheeted, and thus presented a misty and spectral appearance. All the chairs, the chandelier, and all the pictures, were masked in close-fitting pale yellow. The curtains were down, the carpet was up, and a dust sheet was spread under the table in the middle of the floor.

"Here's some friends of yours," said the guardian, throwing her words across the room.

In an easy chair near the fireplace sat Miss Nickall, her arm in splints and in a sling. She was very thin and very pallid, and her eyes brightly glittered. The customary kind expression of her face was modified, though not impaired, by a look of vague apprehension.

"Mind how ye handle her," the guardian gave warning, when Nick yielded herself to be embraced.

"You're just a bit of my Paris come to see me," said Nick, with her American accent. Then through her tears: "How's Tommy, and how's Musa, and how's--how's my studio? Oh! This is Miss Susan Foley, sister of Jane Foley.

Jane will be here for tea. Susan--Miss Ingate and Mrs. Moncreiff."

Susan gave a grim bob.

"Is Jane Foley coming? Does she live here?" asked Miss Ingate, properly impressed by the name of her who was the St. George of Suffragism, and perhaps the most efficient of all militants. "Audrey, we are in luck!"

When Nick had gathered items of information about Paris, she burst out:

"I can't believe I've only met you once before. You're just like old friends."

"So we are old friends," said Audrey. "Your letters to Winnie have made us old friends."

"And when did you come over?"

"Last night," Miss Ingate replied. "We should have called this morning to see you, but Mrs. Moncreiff had so much business to do and people to see. I don't know what it all was. She's very mysterious."

As a fact, Audrey had had an interview with Mr. Foulger, who, with laudable obedience, had come up to town from Chelmsford in response to a telegram. Miss Ingate was aware of this, but she was not aware of other and more recondite interviews which Audrey had accomplished.

"And how did this happen?" eagerly inquired Miss Ingate, at last, pointing to the bandaged arm.

Nick's face showed discomfort.

"Please don't let us talk about that," said Nick. "It was a policeman. I don't think he meant it. I had chained myself to the railings of St.

Margaret's Church."

Susan Foley put in laconically:

"She's not to be worried. I hope ye'll stay for tea. We shall have tea at five sharp. Janey'll be in."

"Can't they sleep here, Susan?" Nick whimpered.

"Of course they can, and welcome," said Susan. "There's more empty beds in this barracks than they could sleep in if they slept all day and all night."

"But we're staying at an hotel. We can't possibly put you to all this trouble," Audrey protested.

"No trouble. It's my business. It's what I'm here for," said Susan Foley.

"I'd sooner have it than mill work any day o' the week."

"You're just going to be very mean if you don't stay here," Nick faltered.

Tears stood in her eyes again. "You don't know how I feel." She murmured something about Betty Burke's doings.

"We will stay! We will stay!" Miss Ingate agreed hastily. And, unperceived by Nick, she gave Audrey a glance in which irony and tenderness were mingled. It was as if she had whispered, "The nerves of this angel have all gone to pieces. We must humour the little sentimental simpleton."

CHAPTER XXI

JANE

"We've begun, ye see," said Susan Foley.

It was two minutes past five, and Miss Ingate and Audrey, followed by Nick with her slung arm, entered the sheeted living-room. Tremendous feats had been performed. All the Moncreiff and Ingate luggage, less than two hours earlier lying at the Charing Cross Hotel, was now in two adjoining rooms on the third floor of the great house in Paget Gardens. Drivers and loiterers had a.s.sisted, under the strict and taciturn control of Susan Foley. Also Nick, Miss Ingate, and Audrey had had a most intimate conversation, and the two latter had changed their attire to suit the station of campers in a palace.

"It's lovely to be quite free and independent," Audrey had said, and the statement had been acclaimed.

Jane Foley was seated opposite her sister at the small table plainly set for five. She rose vivaciously, and came forward with outstretched hand.

She wore a blue skirt and a white blouse and brown boots. She was twenty-eight, but her rather small proportions and her plentiful golden, fluffy hair made her seem about twenty. Her face was less homely than Susan's, and more mobile. She smiled somewhat shyly, with an extraordinary radiant cheerfulness. It was impossible for her to conceal the fact that she was very good-natured and very happy. Finally, she limped.

"Susan _will_ have the meals prompt," she said, as they all sat down. "And as Susan left home on purpose to look after me, of course she's the mistress. As far as that goes, she always was."

Susan was spreading jam on a slice of bread-and-b.u.t.ter for the one-armed Nick.

"I dare say you don't remember me playing the barrel organ all down Regent Street that day, do you?" said Miss Ingate.

"Oh, yes; quite well. You were magnificent!" answered Jane, with blue eyes sparkling.

"Well, though I only just saw you--I was so busy--I should remember you anywhere, Miss Foley," said Miss Ingate.

"Do you notice any difference in her?" questioned Susan Foley harshly.

"N-o," said Miss Ingate. "Except, perhaps, she looks even younger."