Sparrows Part 87

"I'm glad," said Mavis.

"We left him safe at the palace, and as there's nothing in the papers about anything going wrong, it must be all right."

"Of course," Mavis a.s.sented.

"We know Mr Scatchard has his weaknesses; but then, if he hadn't, he wouldn't be the musical artiste he is," declared his wife, at which Mavis, who was just then drinking tea, nearly swallowed it the wrong way.

Mr Napper soon dropped in, to be closely followed by a Mr Webb and a Miss Jennings, who had never met the solicitor's clerk before. Mr Webb and Miss Jennings were engaged to be married. As if to proclaim their unalterable affection to the world, they sat side by side with their arms about each other.

The presence of strangers moved Mr Napper to talk his farrago of philosophical nonsense. It did not take long for Mavis to see that Miss Jennings was much impressed by the flow of many-syllabled words which issued, without ceasing, from the lawyer's clerk's lips. The admiration expressed in the girl's eyes incited Mr Napper to further efforts.

He presently remarked to Miss Jennings:

"I can tell your character in two ticks."

Miss Jennings, who had been wholly resigned to the fact of her insignificance, began to take herself with becoming seriousness.

"How?" she asked, her eyes gleaming with interest.

"By your face or by your 'ead."

"Do tell me," she pleaded.

"'Ead or face?"

"Try the head," she said, as she sought to free herself from her lover's entangling embrace. But Mr Webb would not let her go; he grasped her firmly by the waist, and, despite her entreaties, would not relax his hold. Mr Napper made as if he would approach Miss Jennings, but was restrained by Miss Meakin, who stamped angrily on his corns, and, when he danced with pain, stared menacingly at him. When he recovered, Miss Jennings begged him to tell her character by her face.

Mr Napper, looking out of the corner of one eye at Miss Meakin, stared attentively at Miss Jennings, who was now fully conscious of the attention she was attracting. Mr Webb waited in suspense, with his eye on Mr Napper's face.

"You're very fond of draughts," said the latter presently.

"Right!" cried Miss Jennings, as she smiled triumph antly at her lover.

"But I shouldn't say you was much good at 'huffing,'" he continued.

"Right again!" smiled the delighted Miss Jennings.

"I should say your 'eart governed your 'ead," came next.

"Quite right!" cried Miss Jennings, who was now quite perked up.

"You're very fond of admiration," exclaimed Mr Napper, after a further pause.

"She isn't; she isn't," cried Mr Webb, as his hold tightened on the loved one's form.

More was said by Mr Napper in the same strain, which greatly increased not only Miss Jennings's sense of self-importance, but her interest in Mr Napper.

As Mavis perceived how his ridiculous talk captivated Miss Jennings, it occurred to her that the vanity of women was such, that this instance of one of their number being impressed by a foolish man's silly conversation was only typical of the manner in which the rest of the s.e.x were fascinated.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

MISS 'PETT'S APOTHEOSIS

Mavis was seriously alarmed for Miss Nippett. Her friend was so ill that she insisted upon a doctor being called in. After examining the patient, he told her that Miss Nippett was suffering from acute influenza; also, that complications were threatening. He warned Mavis of the risk of catching the disease, which, in her present condition, might have serious consequences; but she had not the heart to leave her friend to the intermittent care of the landlady. With the money that Miss Nippett instructed her to find in queer hiding-places, Mavis purchased bovril, eggs, and brandy, with which she did her best to patch up the enfeebled frame of the sick woman. Nothing that she or the doctor could do had any permanent effect; every evening, Miss Nippett's temperature would rise with alarming persistence.

"I wonder if she's anything on her mind that might account for it," the doctor said to Mavis, when leaving one evening.

"I don't see what she could have, unless--"

"Unless?"

"I believe she worries about a matter connected with her old occupation. I'll try and find out," said Mavis.

"'Ow did 'e say I was?" asked Miss Nippett, as Mavis rejoined her.

"Much better."

"I ain't."

"Nonsense!"

"Reely I ain't. If 'e says I'm better, 'e'd better stay away. That's the worst of these fash'nable 'Bush' doctors; they make fortunes out of flattering people they're better when they're not."

Mavis had more than a suspicion that Miss Nippett's r.e.t.a.r.ded convalescence was due to not having attained that position in the academy to which she believed her years of faithful service ent.i.tled her. Mavis made reference to the matter; the nature of Miss Nippett's replies converted suspicion into certainty.

The next morning, Mavis called on Mr Poulter, whom she had not seen for two weeks, the increasing physical disabilities of her condition compelling her to give up work at the academy. She found him engaged in the invention of a new country dance for a forthcoming compet.i.tion.

Mavis explained her errand, but had some difficulty in convincing even kindly Mr Poulter of Miss Nippett's ambitious leanings: in the course of years, he had come to look on his devoted accompanist very much as he regarded "Turpsichor" who stood by the front door. Mavis's request surprised him almost as much as if he had been told that "Turpsichor"

herself ached to waltz with him in the publicity of a long night.

"I don't believe she's very long to live," said Mavis. "If you could make her a partner, merely in an honorary sense, it would make her last days radiantly happy."

"It might be done, my dear," mused Mr Poulter.

"But, whatever you do, don't let her think I suggested it to you."

"'Poulter's' can be the soul of tact and discretion," he informed her.

After more conversation on the subject, Mavis was about to take her leave when the postman brought a parcel addressed to her at the academy, from her old Pennington friend, Mrs Trivett. It contained eggs, b.u.t.ter, and cream, together with a letter. This last told Mavis that things were in a bad way at the farm; in consequence, her husband was thinking of sub-letting his house, in order to migrate to Melkbridge, where he might earn a living by teaching music. It closed with repeated wishes for Mavis's welfare.

"These people will send things in my maiden name," said Mavis, as she wondered if Mr Poulter's suspicions had been aroused by similar packages having occasionally arrived for her addressed in the same way.

"It was only to be expected. From your professional a.s.sociation with the academy, they would think it only proper to address you by 'Miss'

and your maiden name," remarked guileless Mr Poulter.