The Making of a Soul Part 24

"She is very well, thanks, and coming here, I hope, in a week or two.

She and Mr. Raymond are to be married at Christmas, as I daresay you have heard."

"Yes, my husband told me so." Suddenly Toni blushed, remembering the occasion of Miss Lynn's visit to her; and at the same moment, as though evoked by some mysterious method of thought, the robust and gaily-dressed form of Lady Martin suddenly materialized before her eyes.

Her ladyship was engaged in cheapening a bunch of yellow roses, while Cynthia Peach was endeavouring, without much success, to point out that their fresh beauty and scent were well worth the original price.

"I'll take them if you knock off sixpence," Lady Martin was declaring rather aggressively; and Miss Peach glanced helplessly at her sister.

"What shall I do, Toby?" she murmured anxiously. "Of course they're cheap already, but still I suppose they won't last----"

"Oh, nonsense, Toby," whispered Mollie vigorously. "If she doesn't buy them heaps of people will." Aloud she said firmly--"I'm afraid we can't take less, Lady Martin. The d.u.c.h.ess bought two bunches of the same roses, and she didn't think them dear."

Lady Martin paused, inherent meanness struggling with a sn.o.bbish desire to emulate the d.u.c.h.ess; and finally she gave in with a bad grace.

As she took the roses her eyes fell on Toni, at that moment intent on her conversation with Mrs. Anstey; and her ladyship's ill-humour was not lessened by noticing the friendly glances which pa.s.sed between them.

She bore down upon them accordingly with outstretched hand.

"Dear Mrs. Anstey, it is ages since we met!" Her piercing tones, likened by the Tobies to those of a macaw, strove in vain for suavity. "So good of you to come to this affair--such a distance for you, too!"

"Oh, I always try to come when I am at home," said Mrs. Anstey gently.

"I like to support Mr. Madgwick's parish, though I'm afraid I don't spend a great deal of money! Really the flowers and the home-made cakes are the only things that tempt me."

"And surely you have plenty of flowers at home!" Lady Martin glanced with a disparaging little laugh at the stall before her. "I don't know where these came from, but they look sadly wilted already."

"I'm afraid I can't agree with you there," said Mrs. Anstey, with a little smile. "I think the flowers are charming, especially those sent by Mrs. Rose's kindness from Greenriver."

She indicated Toni with a friendly little gesture, and Lady Martin condescended, unwillingly, to acknowledge the girl's greeting. To tell the truth, Lady Martin had no desire to better her acquaintance with Toni. She had long ago intended the owner of Greenriver for her son-in-law; and to find this little n.o.body, with her provincial ways and her foreign-looking eyes, acting as _chatelaine_ of the beautiful old house in her daughter's place had an irritating effect.

To make matters worse, several people had known of her matrimonial designs; and since the disappointment of one's friends is frequently a source of mirth, she had been annoyed by several tactless allusions, made presumably in jest, to her daughter's disappointment.

So it was that she disliked Rose's wife with the hearty aversion of a spiteful and jealous woman; and the fact that she herself came of the people made her specially quick to suspect _bourgeois_ blood in others.

She took a delight, now, in snubbing Toni; and presently made a point of asking after her cousin Miss Mibbs.

"She's very well, thank you," replied Toni, wondering a little at this unusual condescension. "But her name isn't Mibbs, it's Gibbs."

"Really?" Lady Martin drawled the word out insolently, as though to indicate that the name of the young woman in question did not interest her. "She is not here to-day, I suppose?"

"No," said Toni, absent-mindedly, "she was not able to get off to-day."

"Get off?" Lady Martin pounced on the strange form of the admission.

"She is ... er ... full of social engagements?"

Afterwards Toni thought it was the scent of the flowers which had made her feel hazy just then. Although she had an intuition that her interlocutor meant to be inquisitive, she had not the sense to turn the subject with a vague a.s.sent; and after a second's hesitation replied rather foolishly that her cousin's engagements were not in society.

"Indeed? But it is holiday time--surely Miss Gibbs is not _teaching_ now?"

Mrs. Anstey, feeling to the full the insolence of this cross-examination, attempted to come to the rescue; but Lady Martin stood waiting so obviously for an answer that Toni felt constrained to reply.

"No, Lady Martin. My cousin is not a governess."

"No?" Lady Martin, who had the l.u.s.t for cruelty inherent in all mean natures, pressed the point ruthlessly. "Then--I hardly see ... in the summer one does not work unless one is a private secretary or something of that sort; and I am sure your cousin"--with a pointed smile--"did not look in the _very least_ like a private secretary!"

Suddenly Toni lost her head and her temper together.

"My cousin is no one's secretary, Lady Martin. She is in a shop--Brown and Evans, drapers, of Brixton; and she is not here to-day because Thursday is the early-closing day for the shops, and this is only Tuesday!"

There was a short silence. Even Lady Martin felt uncomfortable, for though she had literally goaded the girl into speech she did not enjoy the spectacle of Toni's flashing eyes and scarlet cheeks, nor the expression of mingled contempt and compa.s.sion on Mrs. Anstey's face--the contempt, as she very well knew, being intended for her, the compa.s.sion for Toni.

The moment she had spoken Toni knew what she had done; that besides losing her temper and behaving in an ill-bred way she had given a handle to her enemies; and the tears were perilously near her eyes, though pride forbade her to let them fall.

It was Cynthia Peach who came to the rescue.

"How awfully jolly for your cousin," she said plaintively. "I've always longed to go into a shop! The girls have such a good time--and they meet heaps of young men! Not like us poor things who hardly ever see one!"

Her evident sincerity relieved the situation. Her sister might murmur "Oh, _Toby_!" under her breath, and Lady Martin might sneer, but Mrs.

Anstey patted the speaker's arm with a very kindly smile.

"Poor little Cynthia! I shall have to scour the neighbourhood for young men and give a party," she said. "I'd no idea you were so forlorn!"

"Well, there aren't many, really," conceded the elder Toby. "And I know what Cynthia means! That's why she was so pleased to come and sell flowers!"

"And you are all neglecting your duties shamefully, my dears!" Mrs.

Anstey moved aside to allow a batch of customers to approach the stall.

"I mustn't stay here chattering. You will come and have tea with me, won't you, Mrs. Rose?" She turned to Toni, who was now as white as one of her own lilies. "I will look for you at five in the tent--you will be able to get off by then!"

She smiled kindly at the girl as she moved away. Lady Martin had already gone, feeling, no doubt, that the weight of public opinion was against her; and as a rush of business just then overwhelmed the flower-sellers, Toni had no time to dwell upon the recent little scene.

But Mrs. Anstey looked for Toni in vain when five o'clock came. As a matter of fact Toni had felt, desperately, that she could not face the crowded tea-tent, where doubtless she would again meet her enemy, Lady Martin; and she wanted no tea; she only wanted to be alone for a few moments, away from prying eyes, unkind tongues, that she might regain the equilibrium so cruelly upset.

With this end in view she slipped away when the two sisters came back from their hurried tea; and followed a little path which she knew would bring her out at a quiet corner of the grounds, where a rickety old summer-house might afford her the temporary shelter she sought.

There was no one there; and although the entrance to the little hut was almost choked up with weeds and tall, rank flowers, she crept inside, and then, sinking on to the seat in the dimmest, darkest corner, gave herself up to the fit of depression which had been stealing on her ever since her own rash avowal to Lady Martin.

Suddenly she sat upright. Even here, it seemed, she was not to be free from interruption. She heard voices approaching, as though others were seeking her hiding-place; and pushing aside one of the rotting wooden shutters she peeped cautiously out.

Fate was against her to-day. In the two persons who were drawing near, evidently with the intention of seating themselves upon the bench outside the hut, she recognized Lady Martin and Mrs. Madgwick; and instantly Toni felt a quick foreboding of evil.

Something seemed to tell her that it was she whom they were discussing so earnestly as they walked; and Toni shrank back into the gloom, totally incapable of facing them in her tear-stained and generally dishevelled condition.

She breathed a prayer that they would not attempt to enter the summer-house--a prayer which was answered, for the two ladies seated themselves on the bench outside, which was first wiped scrupulously clean by a large and substantial handkerchief wielded by the Vicar's wife.

Her escape thus cut off, Toni had no choice but to remain silently within. She supposed, forlornly, that she ought to make her presence known; but she felt it almost impossible to stir; and the first words she heard kept her chained to her seat.

"A sad pity," Mrs. Madgwick was remarking in her unctuous voice. "I always felt there was something just a little--well, what shall I call it?--second-rate about the girl. Mr. Rose being a gentleman in every sense of the word makes the whole thing so much worse."

"It does." Lady Martin's thin lips tightened. "I too knew from the first that the young woman was not a lady--why, on the occasion of my welcoming call I found her entertaining this very cousin to a repast of tea and shrimps--or was it periwinkles? Something vulgar, anyway, and I am nearly sure I saw a plate of watercresses as well."