Part 7 (1/2)

'd.i.c.k, do you want to drive me frantic!'

'I can't conceive any domestic occurrence which would be more distressing or generally inconvenient, mother dear. You do interrupt a fellow so! I forgot where I was now--oh, the manager, ah yes! Well, the manager said, ”We shall be very happy to have the stones made in any design you may select”--jewellery, by the way, seems to exercise a most refining influence upon the manners: this man had the deportment of a duke--”you may select,” he said; ”but of course I need not tell you that none of these stones are genuine.”'

'Not genuine!' cried Aunt Margarine excitedly. 'They must be--he was lying!'

'West-end jewellers never lie,' said d.i.c.k; 'but naturally, when he said that, I told him I should like to have some proof of his a.s.sertion.

”Will you take the risk of testing?” said he. ”Test away, my dear man!”

said I. So he brought a little wheel near the emerald--”whizz!” and away went the emerald! Then he let a drop of something fall on the ruby--and it fizzled up for all the world like pink champagne. ”Go on, don't mind _me_!” I told him, so he touched the diamond with an electric wire--”phit!” and there was only something that looked like the ash of a shocking bad cigar. Then the pearls--and they popped like so many air-balloons. ”Are you satisfied?” he asked.

'”Oh, perfectly,”' said I, ”you needn't trouble about the horse-shoe pin now. Good evening,” and so I came away, after thanking him for his very amusing scientific experiments.'

'And do you believe that the jewels are all shams, d.i.c.k?--do you really?'

'I think it so probable that nothing on earth will induce me to offer a single one for sale. I should never hear the last of it at the bank. No, mater, dear little Priscilla's sparkling conversation may be unspeakably precious from a moral point of view, but it has no commercial value.

Those jewels are bogus--shams every stone of them!'

Now, all this time our heroine had been sitting unperceived in a corner behind a window-curtain, reading 'The Wide, Wide World,' a work which she was never weary of perusing. Some children would have come forward earlier, but Priscilla was never a forward child, and she remained as quiet as a little mouse up to the moment when she could control her feelings no longer.

'It isn't true!' she cried pa.s.sionately, bursting out of her retreat and confronting her cousin; 'it's cruel and unkind to say my jewels are shams! They are real--they are, they _are_!'

'Hullo, Prissie!' said her abandoned cousin; 'so you combine jewel-dropping with eaves-dropping, eh?'

'How dare you!' cried Aunt Margarine, almost beside herself, 'you odious little prying minx, setting up to teach your elders and your betters with your cut and dried priggish maxims! When I think how I have petted and indulged you all this time, and borne with the abominable litter you left in every room you entered--and now to find you are only a little, conceited, hypocritical impostor--oh, _why_ haven't I words to express my contempt for such conduct--why am I dumb at such a moment as this?'

'Come, mother,' said her son soothingly, 'that's not such a bad beginning; I should call it fairly fluent and expressive, myself.'

'Be quiet, d.i.c.k! I'm speaking to this wicked child, who has obtained our love and sympathy and attention on false pretences, for which she ought to be put in prison--yes, in _prison_, for such a heartless trick on relatives who can ill afford to be so cruelly disappointed!'

'But, aunt!' expostulated poor Priscilla, 'you always said you only kept the jewels as souvenirs, and that it did you so much good to hear me talk!'

'Don't argue with _me_, miss! If I had known the stones were wretched tawdry imitations, do you imagine for an instant----?'

'Now, mother,' said d.i.c.k, 'be fair--they were uncommonly good imitations, you must admit that!'

'Indeed, indeed I thought they were real, the fairy never told me!'

'After all,' said d.i.c.k, 'it's not Priscilla's fault. She can't help it if the stones aren't real, and she made up for quality by quant.i.ty anyhow; didn't you, Prissie?'

'Hold your tongue, Richard; she _could_ help it, she knew it all the time, and she's a hateful, sanctimonious little stuck-up viper, and so I tell her to her face!'

Priscilla could scarcely believe that kind, indulgent, smooth-spoken Aunt Margarine could be addressing such words to her; it frightened her so much that she did not dare to answer, and just then Cathie and Belle came into the room.

'Oh, mother,' they began penitently, 'we're _so_ sorry, but we couldn't find dear Prissie anywhere, so we haven't picked up anything the whole afternoon!'

'Ah, my poor darlings, you shall never be your cousin's slaves any more.

Don't go near her, she's a naughty, deceitful wretch; her jewels are false, my sweet loves, false! She has imposed upon us all, she does not deserve to a.s.sociate with you!'

'I always said Prissie's jewels looked like the things you get on crackers!' said Belle, tossing her head.