More about Pixie Part 11

Unsuspecting Bridgie trotted away to the kitchen to give some orders, while Esmeralda sailed into the drawing-room, all smiles and amiability.

A peal of laughter greeted her ears as she entered, and there sat Pixie perched on the end of the sofa, with her hands clasped round her knees, and her chin poked forward, enjoying to the full the discovery of a new audience, who was apparently as much interested in the sayings and doings of the O'Shaughnessy family as she was herself.

Both girls looked up as the rustle of silks heralded Mrs Hilliard's approach, but while the younger remained serenely composed, Sylvia's lips tightened, and her eyes gave out an ominous flash. It was as if she felt an antagonistic spirit in the air, and braced herself for the conflict. Yet nothing could have been more friendly than Esmeralda's smile--more cordial than her voice.

"I told Bridgie I must really have ten minutes for a farewell chat with you before I go. It has been so pleasant to have you here, and I hope we shall soon meet again. Has Pixie been amusing you while we were upstairs? Come down from that couch, child! You must be quite cramped.

I am here, so you need not mount guard any longer."

"I'm very comfortable where I am," said Pixie easily. She laid her head on one side, and stared at her sister with large, innocent eyes, which seemed strangely disconcerting to that young lady's composure. She frowned, and snapped a bracelet together with quite a vicious snap.

"But you are too old for such inelegant positions. You are almost grown-up now, and must learn how to behave. For goodness' sake get up before Geoff sees you! He is so very particular about nice behaviour in girls."

"'Twas a bad relapse for him when he married you!" muttered Pixie beneath her breath. She straightened herself slowly and let her feet slip to the ground, but Esmeralda realised that nothing but a direct request would convince her of the extraordinary fact that her absence was for once more desired than her presence. For obvious reasons such a request could not be made, and as the time was quickly pa.s.sing nothing remained but to clothe her hints even more circ.u.mspectly than she had intended.

"I am so glad that your foot is really getting better," she said graciously to Sylvia. "Bridgie says the nurse is so pleased with its progress the last few days. You will be able to walk about soon, and then if you feel inclined for a change we shall be so pleased if you will come over to visit us. It is quiet at Knock, but I would drive you about, and the air is so delightful that I am sure it would do you good.

You will hear all about the place from Pixie, so that it would not feel strange to you when you arrived, and we have a few nice friends within driving distance.

"She would like Mollie Burrell, wouldn't she, Pixie? That's a young girl who lives seven miles from us at Knock, but we think nothing of that distance in the country. She was always over at the Castle before Jack went away, and we used to say she felt like another sister. You remember how he used to drive over in the cart, and bring her back to surprise us?"

"I do so! And the afternoon when she went shopping into the post-office as they drove through the village, and Tim Hegan came up and began bidding for the old grey mare, and with that Jack took him into the cart and drove over to the farm, and never a thought of poor Mollie until the evening, when she cut him dead limping home through the mud. 'Twas a cruel thing to do, and the poor creature putting on new boots for the occasion to do him honour, and says Jack, 'I've done for myself this time! It would take a cleverer man than myself to twist _that_ into a compliment!'"

"Oh, that's an old-world story!" cried Esmeralda, with her head in the air. Her cheeks had flushed despite her efforts for composure, and she was uncomfortably conscious that Sylvia was trying to restrain a smile at this most open contradiction of the implied attachment between Jack and his Irish neighbour. Her irritation urged her to stronger measures, and she said testily--

"It proves how little dependence can be placed upon Jack's promises. If he could forget Mollie, it is no wonder that he changes his mind every other day. But they made up that quarrel ages ago, and he was over there shooting in September and squiring her all over the county. You should not tell tales out of school, Pixie!"

"Was it me? I thought it was yourself. You began saying that they were such friends, and I thought maybe it would amuse Sylvia to hear--"

"So it does, Pixie. It amuses me extremely," a.s.sented Sylvia with an intentional emphasis, which made Esmeralda wince once more, for, however innocent the little sister might be, she felt convinced that Sylvia Trevor thoroughly understood her implied warning, and was by no means docile in her manner of receiving it. She sat up stiff and erect, smiling into s.p.a.ce with an expression of scornful superiority which filled the beholder with unwilling admiration. In just such a spirit would she herself have accepted interference from the lips of a stranger. She recognised a kindred spirit, and realised that, putting Jack out of the question, Miss Sylvia Trevor would be a friend after her own heart.

The repeated invitation had in it a note of sincerity which had been wanting in the earlier rendering, but Sylvia only murmured, "Thank you!"

in a politely non-committal manner, and shrank back so decidedly from the proffered kiss that there was no choice but to subst.i.tute a formal handshake in its stead.

The sisters drove off together to the station, and Sylvia was left alone to relieve pent-up irritation by making one impetuous resolve after another, to replace each the following moment by one diametrically different.

"Thank goodness, she has gone at last! I can't think how I ever could have liked her! I think I dislike her more than anyone I ever met. How dare she interfere with me! How dare she imply that I want to monopolise her precious brother! I shall never speak to him again as long as I live! I shall go home to-morrow, and take good care that I never come across when he is likely to be at home. Perhaps she has warned him too, as if he were not conceited enough already! He is worth a dozen of her all the same, and is far nicer than I thought at first.

It's perfectly absurd to think a man and a girl cannot be in the same house for a week without falling in love with each other. I won't condescend to take the faintest notice of her insinuations. I shall be as nice as I like, and give up snubbing him from this minute. He can be engaged to fifty Mollie Burrells if he likes; that's no reason why I should not treat him civilly!"

In the hours which elapsed before the return of the sisters she had had time to change her mind a dozen times over, to write letters to Aunt Margaret and burn them in the fire, to invent scathing sarcasms by which poor Jack was to be reduced to a condition of hopeless subjection, and rehea.r.s.e melting scenes when her womanly sympathy would soothe ruffled spirits and restore him to calm.

All uncertainty as to her conduct was, however, removed by the first glance at Jack's face when he returned home in the evening, for it bore the unmistakable marks of real anxiety, and the weary sigh with which he sank into his chair was something new to his vigorous manhood.

Bridgie bustled in with the tea which always awaited his coming, kissed him lightly, and hurried away to finish some letters. Pixie sat hunched up before the fire devouring a book, and Jack pushed his chair nearer Sylvia's couch, staring at her in a dumb, melancholy fas.h.i.+on which had in it something singularly beguiling. Despite his great height and muscular form, he looked so helpless and appealing, like a nice child who has lost a toy, or a big collie dog which turns pathetic eyes towards his master's face.

Sylvia smiled involuntarily, but it was a very friendly smile, and her voice had lost its mocking tone as she inquired--

"Well--what's the trouble?"

Jack put his cup on the table and leant towards her, his elbows resting on his knees, his chin supported on clasped hands. Pixie read on undisturbed, soft gurgles of laughter marking her enjoyment of sensational pa.s.sages.

"I've had a blow," said Jack, "a ghastly disappointment! This is the day when the firm announces the various arrangements for the year, increases in salary and so on. I quite understood that I should come in for a substantial rise, if not a junior partners.h.i.+p. It was talked about when I joined four years back, and as nothing was done last January I made a certainty of it coming off now. Instead of that, I get nothing--nothing! No advance at all upon the payment of the last two years. I had it out with the partners this afternoon, and they seemed to think I had done unusually well. They implied that it was a piece of pure imagination on my part to have expected to be taken into the firm."

"But--I know nothing about business except what I have read--but is it not usual to have something written--a definite agreement which settles things without the possibility of argument? If you joined this firm with the idea of being made a partner, was not an agreement written down in black and white?"

Jack waved his hand in airy dissent.

"No, there was nothing definite, but we talked it over.--The old fellow certainly held out hopes for the future! I made so sure of a partners.h.i.+p that we took this house in the prospect of being able to pay for it out of my increased earnings. It's too expensive as it is for people brought up as we have been. I'm the most practical of the bundle, and with care and attention can make half a crown go almost as far as an Englishman's s.h.i.+lling; but Bridgie, bless her! wears herself out saving pennies, and throws away pounds with the best. In my father's time there was never any money to trouble about, so she got into the way of ordering things without thinking what they would cost, and it's a difficult plan to forsake. She's done her best, poor creature! I wouldn't blame her for the world."

"And--and will you have to leave the house?" Sylvia's heart sank drearily at the prospect. What if the O'Shaughnessys flitted away to a suburb at the opposite end of the city, and Number Three, Rutland Road was deserted once more, or tenanted by an ordinary, commonplace family, such as inhabited every other villa in the neighbourhood! After the sweet friends.h.i.+p of Bridgie, the fascinations of Jack, the audacities of the two boys, the witcheries of Pixie, and last but not least, the incursions of Esmeralda, exasperating, but to the last degree romantic and beautiful, Sylvia felt a shudder of distaste at the thought of a stout mamma and papa, one baby in a perambulator, another in a mail- cart, and a graduated line of school-boys and girls sallying forth daily to their appointed tasks. "Oh, I'm so sorry you will have to leave!"

she sighed, and Jack smiled at her in grateful acknowledgment of her regret.

"I'm glad you are sorry, but I don't intend to leave. We have been here only four months, and I can't face another removal for--many reasons!

We will have to squeeze along somehow until things look up. A crop of bills have come in during the last few days to make matters worse, and I will have to talk things over with Bridgie to-night. I hate to worry her, but there must be some system, or we shall find ourselves in the workhouse some fine day. And now there is the child to think of. She will be an extra expense!"

Sylvia glanced quickly across the room at the figure in the depths of the arm-chair. She sat motionless, her head bent over her book, but Pixie was one of those intensely alive little creatures who seem to infect their very surroundings with vitality. It seemed to Sylvia that the pages fluttered in agitated fas.h.i.+on, the bow of ribbon holding back her hair seemed of a sudden to stand out at attention, the knotted ends looked like two alert, curious ears at the back of her head.

How much had Pixie heard?

CHAPTER TWELVE.

A FAMILY COUNCIL.

That night after dinner Jack broke the news of his disappointment to the a.s.sembled family, who bore the shock with surprising resignation. Pat whistled, and said, "Just our luck! Ah, well, if it's no better, let's be thankful it's no worse!" Miles suggested cheerfully, "Why don't you chuck it and keep a shop? Then we should get all our food for nothing."

And Bridgie's sigh turned into a smile as she cried, "What a blessing we took this house when we did! Now we should not have been able to afford it, and we should never have known you, Sylvia dear! It's funny, isn't it, to think that this little crib is too big for us?"

"Oh, awfully funny!" said Jack drily. He had opened the topmost drawer in the writing-table and taken out half a dozen red-backed books and a bundle of bills. "The fact remains that we shall have to spend at least a hundred a year less than we calculated if we want to keep out of the Bankruptcy Court. I don't know how it is, but I seem to have given the money for half these bills, and yet here they are again! I was perfectly horrified to see them. This coal bill, for instance,--I remember distinctly giving you two sovereigns one morning just as I was starting for town--"

Sylvia sat up hastily and fumbled for the stick by which she supported herself about the house. It seemed to her impossible that such intimate family affairs could be discussed before a stranger, but at the first movement Jack inquired eagerly where she was going, and both he and Bridgie laughed to scorn the idea of privacy. The presence of a stranger seemed indeed to whet their interest in the forthcoming discussion, which was conducted throughout with a cheerfulness and composure which contrasted strangely with Miss Munns's weekly lamentations over her tradesmen's accounts.

"'Deed, I remember quite well!" said Bridgie, referring to the money which had been given to her in settlement of the coal bill. "It was the morning the cat got lost in the oven, and all of us searching the house over because of the piteous mews of it. It crept in, Sylvia, when the door was open, after the bacon came out, and Sarah pushed it to as she pa.s.sed, so the poor creature had a fine Turkish bath of it before we found her. Did I not pay the bill, after all? I suppose I was short of money for something else. It's wonderful the way it slips away when you are keeping house!"

Jack sighed and took up another paper from the table.

"There's another here. I know I gave you ten s.h.i.+llings to settle this ironmonger fellow. Eight and threepence! It's ridiculous running on bills for little sums like this."

"I paid it! I paid it!" cried Bridgie triumphantly. "I distinctly remember, because there is such a funny little man in the shop who says, 'What is your next pleasure, madam?' when you buy a box of tacks. I remember distinctly going in and paying something."

"Very well, then, you must have the receipt. Where have you put the receipt?"

Bridgie looked vaguely round the room, turned out the contents of her writing-pad, peeped into a drawer under the table, searched the bottom of the stocking-basket, the pocket of her dress, then stroked her chin meditatively, and said--

"Perhaps I was paying for something else! I remember now that I _did_ buy a saucepan."

Jack sighed again, and paced up and down the floor, but he showed no signs of anger or even surprise, and his voice was quite apologetic as he said--

"I'm afraid you will have to be more methodical, dear, if we stay on in this house. We shall never know how we stand if bills keep coming in when we think they are settled. We had better hold a cabinet council and decide how much we can afford to spend in housekeeping and other departments, and cut our coat according to our cloth. It will be difficult after the way things went on at Knock, but it's our only chance. I tried to put down my private expenses this afternoon, and was horrified to find how heavy they were."

Bridgie cast an admiring glance upon him, and turned to Sylvia with an air of pride.