The Phantom Lover Part 36

June watched her with a mixture of sympathy and impatience.

What was the good of putting all one's eggs in the same basket? she asked herself crossly. What was the good of falling in love if nothing better than unhappiness ever came of it? She began to hate the phantom lover, as she called him, with increased hatred.

"I don't think you're strong enough to go yet, you know," she said to Esther one afternoon when they were sitting together in the firelight.

"Write and tell Mrs. Ashton you can't come for another week, or that you can't go at all. I do wish you would."

Esther shook her head.

"I promised to go, and I must do something. I shall be all right by Monday. Mrs. Ashton has waited long enough as it is."

She looked pale and ill, June thought angrily, and put it all down to "that man."

"Has Mr. Mellowes come back from Paris yet?" Esther asked suddenly.

June was faintly amazed; Esther never spoke of Micky. She answered rather dubiously that she did not know.

"I expect he's having such a good time that he'll stay for weeks," she added. "I wish he would come back, I want him to get on with my business...."

"Mr. Mellowes...." announced Lydia at the door.

June scrambled to her feet with a scream of delight.

"Micky! you villain! we were just talking about you. When did you come back? Why haven't you been before? What have you been doing?"

She dragged him over to the fire; she fussed over him and told him he was just in time for tea.

"Esther's been indoors a week with a cold," she explained. "No, don't you get up, Esther. Micky won't mind...." She pushed Esther back amongst the sofa pillows. "Poor darling! She's really been quite ill,"

she declared.

Micky said formally that he was sorry that she was not well, but that the weather was enough to kill anybody; he added that he had been in town since Sunday, but ...

"Four days, and you've not been to see me!" said June. "What a shame, to neglect us so!"

"I've been busy," Micky defended himself; "I expected to hear you had gone to Mrs. Ashton's," he said to Esther.

She raised her eyes.

"No--I am going on Monday."

"Oh," said Micky blankly.

June had opened the door and was calling over the bal.u.s.ters to Lydia for hot water.

"And bring lots of it," she said. "We're thirsty...." She came back into the room. "The postman's just come," she said with a nod and a smile to Esther. "Lydia will bring our letters up if there are any."

She turned again to Micky. "Well, truant! And what have you been doing? Having a good time?"

"No, I have not," Micky said decidedly. "Paris is not what it used to be, or I am not!" He laughed. "How's the swindle?"

June began to answer, but stopped as Lydia came into the room. She brought a jug of hot water. June danced up to her.

"No letters? I thought I heard the postman."

"One for Miss Shepstone," Lydia said smilingly.

Micky looked across at Esther--her whole face was transformed as she turned eagerly with outstretched hand.

There was a moment of silence, then she gave a little sigh of utter contentment. June sniffed inelegantly--Micky looked hard into the fire; his heart was thumping; that letter ought to have been delivered yesterday, he knew; it was cursed bad luck that it should arrive while he was here.

There was a little silence in the room while Esther opened it. She seemed to have forgotten that she was not alone. Her pale cheeks were flushed and her whole face tremulous.

June was bustling about, making a great clatter with the teacups.

Micky got up and began to prowl round the room; his nerves felt jumpy.

Because he knew so well who had written that letter he was sure every one else must know it too. Presently June nudged him as she pa.s.sed.

When he looked at her she made a little grimace.

"Isn't it awful?" she said in a stage whisper.

Micky smiled stiffly.

"Can't I help get the tea?" he asked. "Toast some buns or something?"

"There aren't any to toast," she told him. "Sit down and make yourself at home. Esther!"--she raised her voice elaborately--"are you going to have any tea, my child?"

Esther had come to the end of her letter; she folded it hurriedly and put it away; she cast a quick look at Micky, but he did not see it.

June was chattering away.

"So Esther is going on Monday," she informed Micky, "and I shall be left once more to my lonesome. I'm not at all sure that I shall stay on myself," she added. "It's been so jolly having some one to share this room with me that I'm not looking forward to my own eternal company."

There was a little silence.

"I may not go after all," Esther said suddenly. There was a note of nervousness in her voice. She coloured, meeting June's amazed eyes.

June screamed.

"Not go! Well, I never!" She sat down in a heap on the hearthrug staring at Esther. "I never knew such a girl," she complained. "Micky, I appeal to you...."

But Micky was not going to be appealed to; he was stolidly stirring his tea.

"I suppose I can change my mind if I like?" Esther said.

"Oh, it isn't you who have changed your mind," June cut in ironically.

"It's something that phantom lover of yours has said in his letter.

Own up, now."

"Well, and if it is?" Esther demurred. "I suppose he has a right to say what he likes, hasn't he?" But she was laughing as she spoke; she felt wonderfully happy and light-hearted. "I believe you're jealous,"

she declared.

"Jealous, indeed!" said June indignantly. Then suddenly she sighed.

"Well, perhaps I am; who knows? What does he say? or mayn't we ask?"