The Story Book Girls Part 40

"Oh, we bound them over," said Mabel, "and no one else ever heard of it."

"She doesn't tell you all," said wicked Jean. "She doesn't tell you that we sat behind you once at a concert, and Mabel saw, properly you know, how your blue dress was made."

"Oh, Jean, Jean," said Mabel.

"Yes, and had hers made just like it," said Jean. She spread her hands a little.

"Rucked down the front, you remember."

"Oh, I remember," laughed Adelaide Maud.

"And when you came to call--Mabel couldn't put on her prettiest gown, because it was just like yours."

"Oh, Jean," cried Mabel.

In the midst of some laughter came in Lady Emily.

"Well," she said in a gentle way, "you people are enjoying yourselves, aren't you?"

Adelaide Maud knew then that the day was won for Mabel and Jean. Mr.

Dudgeon was always a certain quality, but Lady Emily--well, she had seen Lady Emily when people called her "dull." It was wonderful with what grace Lady Emily adapted herself to the interests of two girls almost unknown to her. The effect might be gleaned from what Jean said afterwards.

"Lady Emily was so sweet, I never bothered about forks or anything.

There was such a love of a footman! I believe he shoved things into my hands just when I ought to use them. It always worries me to remember--when I'm talking--just like the figures at lancers, you know, but here they did everything for one except eat."

Lady Emily had on a beautiful diamond ornament at her throat, and another in her hair, and they scintillated in splendour. She wore a dress of white chiffon for the ball.

"You insist on dragging me there?" Mr. Dudgeon asked several times.

Whenever a pause occurred in the conversation he said, "You insist on carrying me off to this ball, don't you?"

Lady Emily also pretended that she had to go very much against her will.

Mabel and Jean had never seen people set out to b.a.l.l.s in this way before. They themselves had always their mad rush of dressing and their wild rush in the cloakroom for programmes, and a most enervating pause for partners and then the thing was done. But Lady Emily and Mr.

Dudgeon tried to pan out the quiet part of the evening as far as it would pan out.

Then came a trying time.

In the drawing-room, quite late, very gorgeous people arrived. Jean was endeavouring to remember whether or not she took sugar with tea when the first of them came in. The spectacle made her seize three lumps one after another, to gain time, when as a fact she never took more than one. They fell in a very flat small cup of tea and splashed it slightly in various directions. She was always very pleased to remember that she didn't apologize to the footman.

The gorgeous people seemed only to see Lady Emily and to talk to the electric light brackets. They said the ball was a bore.

A rather magnificent and very stout personage settled himself near Mabel. He wore shining spectacles which magnified his eyes in a curious manner.

"Hey, what, what," he said to Mabel. "And you aren't a Dudgeon! Hey!

Thought you were one. Quite a lot of 'em, you know. Always croppin' up.

Golden hair, I remember. And yours is brownish. Ah, well. You're a friend, you say. Quite as good, quite as good. Not going to the ball.

Consider yourself in luck. Not a manjack but says the same. Why they make it a ball, Heaven knows. Never dance, you know. Hey what! None of us able for it. Not so bad as levees though. There, imagine s...o...b..etle in white calves. There he is, that old totterer. Yet he does it. Honour of his country, calls of etiquette and that sort of thing. You're young, missed a lot of this, eh! Well, it's mostly farce, y'know. We prance a lot. Not always amusin'. Relief to know Lady Emily. No prance about her. Hey, what!"

Adelaide Maud approached.

"Ah, here we are. Thought you had dyed it. Golden as ever, my dear.

Pleasant to see you again. Why aren't you and this lady goin'? We could stay. Instead of prancin', eh!"

The ill humour of having to go to the ball was on all of them evidently.

But this spectacled benignity fascinated Mabel. He again was a "complete dear."

"I'm going to steal her," said Adelaide Maud, indicating Mabel, darkly; "you wait."

"Hey, what! I'll report. Report to Lady Emily, y'know. Ye've taken my first partner. Hey, what! Piano? Ah, well. Not in my line, but I'm with you."

He actually accompanied them to a long alcove where a piano stood half shrouded in flowers. Here Adelaide Maud had withdrawn the little party of Jean, Mabel and herself, that they might look and play a little and enjoy themselves.

"Simpkins, more tea," she whispered. "We didn't have half enough."

It was an admirable picnic. Mabel played "any old thing," as Adelaide Maud called it, ran on from one to another while they joked and talked and watched the "diplomatic circles" gathering force in the drawing-room. The spectacled gentleman sat himself down in complete enjoyment.

"D'ye know," he said to Jean in the same detached manner and without any kind of introduction, "no use at that kind of thing," indicating the piano, "but the girl can play. Fills me with content. Content's the word. Difficult to find nowadays. She doesn't strain. Not a bit. She smooths one down. A real talent. And a child! Hey, what, quite remarkable."

Lady Emily came slowly in. Two people talked to her.

The spectacled gentleman rose, and they listened to him.

"Don't interrupt, Lady Emily. She's got the floor, y'know. I've heard prima donnas. Here too. And they didn't smooth me down. Catch a note or two of this. It gives its effect, hey? Gets your ear. Hey, what--if we had her in the House there might be hope for the country, hey, what!"

Lady Emily was pleased.

She laid her hand on Mabel's shoulder.

"Are you liking this?"

"Oh, it's such a dream, and you are so lovely, Lady Emily, and it doesn't seem real. So it's very easy to play, you know."

"I should make them stop talking, but they came for that, you know. And you are playing so well, it's too pretty an interlude. Helen didn't tell me that you could play like this."

"And my new master makes me believe I can't play a note," said Mabel.

"I shall tell him he is quite wrong, because you said so."

Aunt Katharine's words came to her mind--playing at one end of the country no better than the other! Ah, well, it was newer, fresher, or something--taking it either way!

Of course it came to an end. The girls slipped out with Adelaide Maud and found the long corridor with the white room containing their wraps and two attentive maids. They were covered up in their cloaks, and watched one or two leave before them, as they stood looking down on them from the staircase.

"n.o.body will miss us," said Adelaide Maud. "They are 'going on,' you know."

There was something rather sad in her voice.

"They all go on to something or somebody, even that dear old Earl Knuptford, he will pick you at the same place next year that he found you at to-night, and say, 'Hey, what,' and never think that both he and you have dropped twelve months out of your lives. It's different at Ridgetown, isn't it?"

"Yes, there's nothing to go on to at Ridgetown, is there?" said Jean grimly. "And n.o.body to forget or to say, 'Hey, what,' even if they had never met you before."

Her world was full of shining diplomats and she had chatted with an earl.