Part 43 (1/2)
”No,” said the boy, ”I can't. I shall be away from the office too long as it is.”
La Fleur was in a quandary; there was no one at home but herself; a telegram is always important; very likely an immediate answer was required; and here was an opportunity to send one. If the message were from his sister, there might be something which she could answer. At any rate, it was an affair that must not be neglected, and Mr. Haverley had gone off with his fis.h.i.+ng-rod, and no one knew when he would get back.
”Wait one minute,” she said to the boy, and she hurried into the kitchen with the telegram. She put on her spectacles and looked at it; the envelope was very slightly fastened. No doubt this was something that needed attention, and the boy would not wait. Telegrams were not like private letters, anyway, and she would take the risk. So she opened the envelope without tearing it, and read the message. First she was frightened, and then she was puzzled.
”Well, I can't answer that,” she said, ”and I suppose he will go as soon as he gets it.”
She laid the telegram on the kitchen table and went out to the impatient boy, and told him there was no answer. Whereupon he departed at the top of his pony's speed.
La Fleur returned to the kitchen and reread the telegram. The signature was not very legible, and in her first hasty reading she had not made it out, but now she deciphered it.
”Panney!” she exclaimed, ”R. Panney! I believe it is from that tricky old woman!” And with her elbows on the table she gave herself up to the study of the telegram. ”I never saw anything like it,” she thought. ”It looks exactly as if she wanted to frighten him without telling him what has happened. It could not be worse than it is, even if his sister is dead, and if that were so, anybody would telegraph that she was very ill, so as not to let it come on him too sudden. Nothing can be more dreadful than what he'll think when he reads this. One thing is certain: she meant him to go when he got it. Yes, indeed!” And a smile came upon her face as she thought. ”She wants him there; that is as plain as daylight.”
At this moment a step was heard outside, and the telegram was slipped into the table drawer. La Fleur arose and approached the open door; there she saw Phoebe.
”How d'ye do, ma'am?” said that individual. ”Do let me come in an' sit down, for I'm nearly tired to death, an' so cross that I'd like to fight a cat.”
”What has happened to you?” asked La Fleur, when she and her visitor had seated themselves.
”Nothin',” replied Phoebe, ”except that I've been sent on a fool's errand, an' made to walk all the way from Thorbury, here, an' a longer an' a dirtier an' a rockier road I never went over. I thought two or three times that I should just drop. If I'd knowed how stiff my j'ints would be, I wouldn't 'a' come, no matter what she said.”
”She said,” repeated La Fleur. ”Who?”
”That old Miss Panney!” said Phoebe, with a snap. ”She sent me out here to look after Mike, an' was too stingy even to pay my hack fare.
She wanted me to come day before yesterday, but I couldn't get away 'til to-day.”
”Where is Miss Panney?” asked La Fleur, quickly.
”She's gone to the seash.o.r.e, where the Bannisters an' Miss Miriam is. She said she'd come here herself if it hadn't been for goin' thar.”
”To look after Mike?” asked the other.
”Not 'zactly,” said Phoebe, with a grin. ”There's other things here she wanted to look after.”
”Upon my word!” exclaimed La Fleur, ”I can't imagine what there is on this place that Miss Panney need concern herself about.”
”There isn't no place,” said Phoebe, ”where there isn't somethin' that Miss Panney wants to consarn herself in.”
La Fleur looked at Phoebe, and then dropped the subject.
”Don't you want a cup of tea?” she asked, a glow of hospitality suddenly appearing on her face. ”That will set you up sooner than anything else, and perhaps I can find a piece of one of those meat pies your husband likes so much.”
Phoebe was not accustomed to being waited upon by white people, and to have a repast prepared for her by this cook of high degree flattered her vanity and wonderfully pleased her. Her soul warmed toward the good woman who was warming and cheering her body.
”I say it again,” remarked La Fleur, ”that I cannot think what that old lady should want to look after in this house.”
”Now look here, madam,” said Phoebe, ”it's jes' nothin' at all. It's jes' the most nonsensical thing that ever was. I don't mind tellin' you about it; don't mind it a bit. She wants Mr. Hav'ley to marry Miss Dora Bannister, an' she's on pins an' needles to know if the young woman here is likely to ketch him. That's all there is 'bout it. She don't care two snaps for Mike, an' I reckon he don't want no looking after anyway.”
”No, indeed,” answered the other; ”I take the best of care of him. Miss Panney must be dreadful afraid of our young lady, eh?”
”That's jes' what she is,” said Phoebe. ”I wonder she didn't take Mr.