About Peggy Saville Part 7

"I should like to marry a very rich man with a big moustache, and a beautiful house in London with a fireplace in the hall," cried Mellicent fervently. "I should have carriages and horses, and a diamond necklace and three children: Valentine Roy--that should be the boy--and Hildegarde and Ermyntrude, the girls, and they should have golden hair like Rosalind, and blue eyes, and never wear anything but white, and big silk sashes. I'd have a housekeeper to look after the dinners and things, and a governess for the children, and never do anything myself except give orders and go out to parties. I'd be the happiest woman that ever lived."

Lazy Oswald smiled in complacent fas.h.i.+on.

"And the fattest! Dearie me, wouldn't you be a tub! I don't know that I have any special ambition. I mean to get my degree if I can, and then persuade the governor to send me a tour round the world. I like moving about, and change and excitement, and travelling is good fun if you avoid the f.a.g, and provide yourself with introductions to the right people. I know a fellow who went off for a year, and had no end of a time; people put him up at their houses, and got up b.a.l.l.s and dinners for his benefit, and he never had to rough it a bit. I could put in a year or two in that way uncommonly well."

Rob had been wriggling on his chair and scowling in his wild-bear fas.h.i.+on all the while Oswald was speaking, and at the conclusion he relieved his feelings by kicking out recklessly beneath the table, with the result that Peggy sat up suddenly with a "My foot, my friend! Curb your enthusiasm!" which made him laugh, despite his annoyance.

"But it's such bos.h.!.+" he cried scornfully. "It makes me sick to hear a fellow talk such nonsense. b.a.l.l.s and dinners--faugh! If that's your idea of happiness, why not settle down in London and be done with it!

That's the place for you! I'd give my ears to go round the world, but I wouldn't thank you to go with a dress suit and a valet; I'd want to rough it, to get right out of the track of civilisation and taste a new life; to live with the Bedouin in their tents as some of those artist fellows have done, or make friends with a tribe of savages.

Magnificent! I'd keep a notebook with an account of all I did, and all the strange plants and flowers and insects I came across, and write a book when I came home. I'd a lot rather rough it in Africa than lounge about Piccadilly in a frock coat and tall hat." Robert sighed at the hard prospect which lay before him as the son of a n.o.ble house, then looked across the table with a smile: "And what says the fair Mariquita?

What _role_ in life is she going to patronise when she comes to years of discretion?"

Peggy nibbled the end of her pen and stared into s.p.a.ce.

"I've not quite decided," she said slowly. "I should like to be either an author or an orator, but I'm not sure which. I think, on the whole, an orator, because then you could watch the effect of your words. It is not possible, of course, but what I should like best would be to be the Archbishop of Canterbury, or some great dignitary of the Church. Oh, just imagine it! To stand up in the pulpit and see the dim cathedral before one, and the faces of the people looking up, white and solemn.-- I'd stand waiting until the roll of the organ died away, and there was a great silence; then I would look at them, and say to myself--'A thousand people, two thousand people, and for half an hour they are in my power.

I can make them think as I will, see as I will, feel as I will. They are mine! I am their leader.'--I cannot imagine anything in the world more splendid than that! I should choose to be the most wonderful orator that was ever known, and people would come from all over the world to hear me, and I would say beautiful things in beautiful words, and see the answer in their faces, and meet the flash in the eyes looking up into mine. Oh-h! if it could only--only be true; but it can't, you see. I am a girl, and if I try to do anything in public I am as nervous as a rabbit, and can only squeak, squeak, squeak in a tiny little voice that would not reach across the room. I had to recite at a prize-giving at school once, and, my dears, it was a lamentable failure!

I was only audible to the first three rows, and when it was over I simply sat down and howled, and my knees shook. Oh dear, the very recollection unpowers me! So I think, on the whole, I shall be an auth.o.r.ess, and let my pen be my sceptre. From my quiet fireside," cried Peggy, with a sudden a.s.sumption of the Mariquita manner, and a swing of the arms which upset a vase of chrysanthemums, and sent a stream of water flowing over the table--"from my quiet fireside I will sway the hearts of men--"

"My plush cloth! Oh, bad girl--my new plush cloth! You dreadful Peggy, what will I do with you?" Mrs Asplin rushed forward to mop with her handkerchief and lift the dripping flowers to a place of safety, while Peggy rolled up her eyes with an expression of roguish impenitence.

"Dear Mrs Asplin, it was not I, it was that auth.o.r.ess. She was evolving her plots... Pity the eccentricities of the great!"

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

A SHAKESPEARE READING.

Esther was preparing for the Cambridge Local Examination at Christmas, and making a special study of _The Merchant of Venice_, as the play chosen for the year.

Fraulein explained the notes, and expatiated on the Venice of the past and the manners and customs of its inhabitants; but it was Mr Asplin who had the brilliant idea of holding a Shakespeare reading which should make the play live in the imagination of the young people, as no amount of study could do. The suggestion was made one day at dinner, and was received with acclamation by everyone present.

"Oh, how lovely, father! It will help me ever so much!" said Esther.

"And Peggy must be Portia."

"I'd like to be that funny little man Launcelot--what do you call it?-- only I know I couldn't do it," said Mellicent humbly. "I'll be the servants and people who come in and give messages. But, of course, Peggy must be Portia."

"Peggy shall be Portia, and I'll be the Jew, and snarl at her across the court," said Rob, with an a.s.surance which was not at all appreciated by his companions.

"I've rather a fancy to try Shylock myself," Max declared. "Oswald would make a capital Ba.s.sanio, and you could manage Antonio all right if you tried, for he has not so much to do. Let me see: Peggy--Portia; Esther--Nerissa; Mellicent--Jessica (she's so like a Jewess, you see!); you and Oswald--Ba.s.sanio and Antonio; Shylock--my n.o.ble self. Father and mother to help out with the smaller characters. There you are! A capital cast, and everyone satisfied. I'm game to be Shylock, but I can't do the sentimental business. You two fellows will have to take them, and we'll divide the smaller fry among us."

"Indeed we will do nothing of the kind. I'm not going to take Ba.s.sanio; I couldn't do it, and I won't try. I'll have a shot at Shylock if you like, but I can't do anything else. The cast is all wrong, except so far as Peggy is concerned. Of course she is Portia."

"Proposed, seconded, and carried unanimously that Peggy is Portia!" said Mr Asplin, smiling across the table at that young lady, who tried to look modest and unconcerned, but was plainly aglow with satisfaction.

"For Shylock, as the character seems so much in demand, we had better draw lots. I will write the names on slips of paper, and you must all agree to take what comes, and make the best of it. I will fill in the gaps, and I am sure mother will help all she can--"

"Lemonade in the intervals, and coffee for those who prefer it, with some of my very best company cake," said Mrs Asplin briskly. "It will be quite an excitement. I should rather like to be Shylock myself, and defy Peggy and her decree; but I'll give it up to the boys, and make myself generally useful. Why couldn't we begin to-night?"

"Oh, Mrs Asplin, no! It will take me days to get up my part! And the costumes--consider the costumes!" cried Peggy anxiously. And her hostess raised her hands in surprise.

"The costumes! Are you going to dress up? I never thought of that!"

"Surely that is unnecessary, Peggy! You can read the play without changing your clothes!" echoed the vicar; but, from the chorus of disclaimer which greeted his words, it appeared that the young people could do nothing of the sort.

Max wanted to know how a fellow could possibly "talk Shylock" in a white tie and an evening jacket. Oswald thought it equally ridiculous to pose as an Italian lover in English clothing; and Peggy turned up her eyes and said she could not really abandon herself to her part if her costume were inappropriate. Even Esther, the sober-minded, sided with the rest, so the vicar laughed and gave way, only too pleased to sanction anything which helped the object which he had at heart.

"Dress up by all means, if it pleases you. It will be interesting to see the result. But, of course, I must be absolved from any experiments of the kind."

"Oh, of course! And mother, too, if she likes, though I should love to see her made-up as Shylock! You must not see or ask about our dresses until the night arrives. They must be a secret. You will lend us all your fineries, mother--won't you?"

"Bless your heart, yes! But I haven't got any!" said Mrs Asplin, in her funny Irish way. "They were all worn out long, long ago." She gave a little sigh for the memory of the days when she had a wardrobe full of pretty things and a dozen s.h.i.+mmery silk dresses hanging on the pegs, and then flashed a loving smile at her husband, in case he might think that she regretted their loss. "If there is anything about the rooms that would do, you are welcome to use it," she added, glancing vaguely at the sideboard and dumb waiter, while the boys laughed loudly at the idea of finding any "properties" in the shabby old dining-room.

Peggy, however, returned thanks in the most gracious manner, and sat wrapt in thought for the rest of the evening, gazing darkly around from time to time, and scribbling notes on sheets of note-paper.

Short of playing Shylock, which in the end fell to Maxwell's share, it seemed as if all the responsibility of the performance fell on Peggy's shoulders. She was stage manager, selecting appropriate pieces of furniture from the different rooms and piling them together behind the screen in the study, whence they could be produced at a moment's notice, to give some idea of the different scenes. She coached Esther and Mellicent in their parts, designed and superintended the making of the costumes, and gave the finis.h.i.+ng touches to each actor in turn when the night of the "Dramatic Reading" arrived.

"Taking one consideration with another," as Max remarked, "the costumes were really masterpieces of art."

To attire two young gentlemen as Italian cavaliers, and a third as a bearded Jew, with no materials at hand beyond the ordinary furnis.h.i.+ngs of a house, is a task which calls for no small amount of ingenuity, yet this is exactly what Peggy had done.

Antonio and Ba.s.sanio looked really uncommonly fine specimens, with cycling knickerbockers, opera cloaks slung over their shoulders, and flannel s.h.i.+rts pouched loosely over silk sashes, and ornamented with frills of lace at wrists and neck. Darkened eyebrows gave them a handsome and distinguished air, and old straw hats and feathers sat jauntily on their tow wigs.

The vicar sat in the arm-chair by the fire, Shakespeare in hand, waiting to fill in the odd parts with his wife's help, and simultaneous cries of astonishment and admiration greeted the appearance of the two actors at the beginning of the first scene.

"It's wonderful! Did I ever see such children? What in the world have they got on their heads? Milly's old leghorn, I declare, and my pink feathers. My old pink feathers! Deary me! I'd forgotten all about them. I've never worn them since the year that--"

"'In sooth, I know not why I am so sad,'" quoth the wearer of the feathers, scowling darkly at the frivolous prattler, who straightway hid her head behind her book, and read Salanio's first speech in a tone of meek apology.

There was a great deal of confusion about the first scene, for four people had to read the parts of six, and one of the number was so much occupied with gazing at the costumes of the actors that she invariably lost her place, and had to be called to order by significant coughs and glances. By this time it generally happened that the vicar had made up his mind to come to the rescue, and both husband and wife would begin to read at the same moment, to their own amus.e.m.e.nt, and to the disgust of the two lads, who felt uncomfortable in their borrowed plumes, and keenly sensitive about their precious dignity. Antonio mumbled his last speech in undignified haste, and followed Ba.s.sanio out of the room, prepared to echo his statement that this sort of thing was "tomfoolery,"

and that he wasn't going to make an idiot of himself any longer to please Peggy Saville, or any other girl in the world. But the words died on his lips, for outside, in the hall, stood Peggy herself, or rather Portia, and such a Portia as made him fairly blink with amazement! Amidst the bustle of the last few days Portia's own costume had been kept a secret, so that the details came as a surprise to the other members of the party. Nerissa stood by her side, clad in a flowing costume, the component parts of which included a dressing-gown, an antimaca.s.sar, and a flowered chintz curtain; but, despite the nature of the materials, the colouring was charming, and frizzled hair, flushed cheeks, and sparkling eyes, transformed the sober Esther into a very personable attendant on the lady of Belmont. There was nothing of the dressing-gown character about Portia's own attire, however. Its magnificence took away the breath of the beholders. The little witch had combed her hair to the top of her head, and arranged it in a coil, which gave height and dignity to her figure. A string of pearls was twisted in and out among the dark tresses; her white silk frock was mysteriously lengthened and ornamented by two large diamond-shaped pieces of satin encrusted with gold, one placed at the bottom of the skirt, and the other hanging loosely from the square-cut neck of the bodice. Long yellow silk sleeves fell over the bare arms and reached the ground; and from the shoulders hung a train of golden-hued plush, lined with a paler shade of yellow. Ba.s.sanio and Gratiano stood aghast, and Portia simpered at them sweetly in the intervals between dispensing stage directions to the boot boy, who was clad in his best suit for the occasion, and sent to and fro to change the arrangement of the scenery.

He wheeled the sofa into the centre of the room, piled it up with blue cus.h.i.+ons, and retired to make way for the two ladies, who were already edging in at the door.

A gasp of astonishment greeted their appearance, but when Peggy dragged her heavy train across the room, threw herself against the cus.h.i.+ons in an att.i.tude calculated to show off all the splendour of her attire, when she leant her pearl-decked head upon her hand, turned her eyes to the ceiling, and said, with a sigh as natural and easy as if they were her own words which she was using, and not those of the immortal Shakespeare himself, "'By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is a-weary of this great world!'"--then the vicar broke into a loud "Hear! hear!" of delight, and Mrs Asplin seized the poker and banged uproarious applause upon the fender. For the first few minutes amazement and admiration held her dumb; but as the girls moved to and fro, and the details of their costumes became more apparent, she began to utter spasmodic cries of recognition, somewhat trying to the composure of the actors.

Portia's description of her lovers was interrupted by a cry of, "My table centres! The Turkish squares I bought at the Exhibition, and have never used! Wherever did they find them?" while a little later came another cry, as the ident.i.ty of the plush train made itself known, "My _portiere_ from the drawing-room door! My beautiful _portiere_--with the nice new lining! Oh dear, dear! it's dragging about all over the dirty carpet! Don't sit on it, dear! For pity's sake, don't git on it!"

"Mother!" cried Esther, in a deep tone of remonstrance; but Portia was unconscious of interruption. The other actors held their books in their hands, and, for the most part, read their speeches; but Peggy trusted entirely to memory, and sighed and yawned over the denunciation of her lovers, with evident satisfaction to herself as well as to the beholders. Nerissa read her part "conscientiously," as the newspapers would say, punctuating her sentences in exemplary fas.h.i.+on, and laying the emphasis upon the right words as directed by the stage manageress; but, such is the contrariness of things, that, with all her efforts, the effect was stiff and stifled, while Peggy drawled through her sentences, or gabbled them over at break-neck speed, used no emphasis at all, or half a dozen running, at her own sweet will, and was so truly Portia that the vicar wondered dreamily if he should have to interview the Duke of Morocco in his study, and Mrs Asplin sighed unconsciously, and told herself that the child was too young to be troubled with lovers. She must not dream of accepting any one of them for years to come!

At the end of the scene, however, anxiety about her beloved _portiere_ overpowered everything else in the mind of the vicar's wife, and she rushed after the actors to call out eager instructions. "Hang it up at once--there's good children. If you put it down on a chair, Peggy will sit on it as sure as fate! And oh! my table centres! Put them back in the drawer if you love me! Wrap them up in the tissue paper as you found them!"

"Mother, you are a terrible person! Go back, there's a dear, and do keep quiet!" cried a m.u.f.fled voice from behind the dining-room door, as Shylock dodged back to escape observation; and Mrs Asplin retreated hastily, aghast at the sight of a hairy monster, in whom she failed to recognise a trace of her beloved son and heir. Shylock's make-up was, in truth, the triumph of the evening. The handsome lad had been transformed into a bent, misshapen old man, and anything more ugly, frowsy, and generally unattractive than he now appeared it would be impossible to imagine. A cus.h.i.+on gave a hump to his shoulders, and over this he wore an aged purple dressing-gown, which had once belonged to the vicar. The dressing-gown was an obvious refuge; but who but Peggy Saville would have thought of the tr.i.m.m.i.n.g, which was the making of the s.h.a.ggy, unkempt look so much desired? Peggy had sat with her hands clasped on her lap, and her head on one side, staring at the gown when it was held out for her approval two days before, then had suddenly risen, and rushed two steps at a time upstairs to the topmost landing, a wide, scantily furnished s.p.a.ce which served for a playground on wet afternoons. An oilcloth covered the floor, a table stood in a corner, and before each of the six doors was an aged wool rug, maroon as to colouring, with piebald patches here and there where the skin of the lining showed through the scanty tufts. Peggy gave a whoop of triumph, tucked one after the other beneath her arm, and went flying down again, dropping a mat here and there, tripping over it, and nearly falling from top to bottom of the stairs. Hairbreadth escapes were, however, so much a part of her daily existence that she went on her way unperturbed, and carried her bundle into the study, where the girls sniffed derisively, and the boys begged to know what she intended to do with all that rubbish.

"'They that have no invention should be hanged,'" quoted Peggy, unperturbed. "Give me a packet of pins, and I'll soon show you what I am going to do. Dear, dear, dear, I don't know what you would do without me! You are singularly bereft of imagination."

She tossed her pigtail over her shoulder, armed herself with the largest pins she could find, and set to work to fasten the mats down the front of the gown, and round the hem at the bottom, so that the wool hung in s.h.a.ggy ends over the feet. The skins were thick, the heads of the pins pressed painfully into her fingers, but she groaned and worked away until the border was arranged for st.i.tching, and could be tried on to show the effect.

"Perfectly splendid!" was the verdict of the beholders. And so the matter of Shylock's gown was settled; but his beard still remained to be provided, and was by no means an easy problem to solve.

"Tow!" suggested Mellicent; but the idea was hooted by all the others.