Part 8 (1/2)
”Anonymous, too! As if we did not know perfectly well who wrote it!”
Philippa cried, with curling lip. ”Cranky, sallow-faced wretch! He ought to live in a den, and not among ordinary flesh-and-blood mortals.
_I'll_ write an answer! _I'll_ settle him!”
”He banged on the ceiling one day when I was practising,” chimed in Hope, with smouldering resentment. ”It isn't as if I were a schoolgirl and couldn't play.”
”Thinks we make too much noise, does he?” murmured Barney thoughtfully.
”Sweet innocent! He doesn't know he is born. Wait a bit until I have really given my mind to the subject.”
”No, no; none of that now, Barney! If we live in a flat we are bound to keep within bounds,” interrupted Stephen anxiously. He reviewed the past fortnight, and was bound to acknowledge that the writer of the note had some just ground for complaint. ”I am afraid we have been rather noisy since you arrived.--But perhaps you can explain in your reply, Phil, that there have been--er--special circ.u.mstances--er--not likely to occur again. Smooth him down. Great mistake to quarrel with one's neighbours.”
Philippa looked her brother over, her head erect, her shoulders squared in the defiant manner he had learned to know. She made no reply in words, but he understood full well what was meant by that look. If he were prepared to give in meekly, she was not; if he would not fight for the rights of the family, she would do it for him; and it would not be to-day nor to-morrow either that she would write an apology in response to so audacious a complaint.
All that evening Philippa sat with pursed-up lips, composing and revising an answer which should be at once haughty, sarcastic, and to the point; and no sooner was Stephen safely out of the way next morning than it was written, submitted to Theo for professional revision, and safely deposited in the ”Hermit's” letter-box:
”Miss Charrington is in receipt of an anonymous letter, the source of which, however, she is at no lose to decide. She agrees with the writer that forbearance and consideration are necessary where several tenants live beneath the same roof, but she would impress upon his notice that such consideration should be mutual and not one-sided. It is unreasonable to expect a large and still young family”--[”Still young!
he won't like that--it implies that he is so old himself!”]--”to live in a condition of absolute inaction; and repeated and varied complaints”--[”That means the rapping on the ceiling”]--”are at least as disagreeable to its members as their musical efforts appear to be to their neighbour.”
”That ought to settle him for some time to come,” cried the girls complacently; and when by chance they met the ”Hermit” on the stairs they stared at him beneath haughtily contracted brows, and held their skirts well to the side, lest by chance they should brush against him as they pa.s.sed.
November was half-way through when a second letter arrived to introduce a little excitement into the daily routine. It bore the postmark of a small Norfolk towns.h.i.+p, on the borders of which Mr Loftus had his shooting-box. It was addressed to Hope, and was of an import which brought a flush of excitement to her cheeks. Her ”Ohs!” and ”Ahs!” of surprise were aggravatingly uninstructive, and in the end Madge took forcible possession of the sheet, and glancing over it rapidly, read out the sentences in slow, sententious accents:
”My dear Hope,--As the address will show, we are staying in Norfolk, and I write to ask if you would pay us a visit from Monday next to Tuesday the 30th. We expect to have several big shoots during the week, and as you are distinctly the most presentable of the family, and your musical abilities can be usefully employed in providing free amus.e.m.e.nt for my guests, I think you will be quite a valuable addition to our house-party. You will find the 11:15 a convenient train, and we will send to the station to meet you, if we have no better use for the carriages.”
”_Madge_!” cried Hope, aghast.
”What an extraordinary letter!” gasped Philippa, too much stunned by surprise to protest. ”Give it to me. Let me see.”
Madge handed it over, with a shrug of the shoulders and a slow, whimsical smile.
”Oh, well,” she admitted, ”that's not a literal rendering. I read between the lines and found the true meaning. Aunt Loftus is all politeness, of course. 'You don't look strong--would be better for a change. Can leave London more easily than your sisters. Be sure to bring plenty of music.' But my reading is the right one, all the same.
Bah! Sickening! If you want to be mean, _be_ mean, and don't try to wrap it up in the form of philanthropy. _I_ might be as ill as _I_ liked, but I should never be asked. Your face is your fortune, Hope.
Make the most of it before you grow old and ugly.”
”I won't go. I shall write and refuse,” said Hope quickly; for she had noticed a shadow fall across Theo's face, and divined the reason of its presence. Theo would not grudge her a pleasure, but from a professional point of view, could not help wis.h.i.+ng that the invitation had fallen to her own share. Life at a shooting-box would be a new experience, a useful background for future stories; and the guests would supply the young author with the opportunity of valuable character-study.
Unfortunately Theo's talent was not of value to a hostess, and she was conscious that her chance of an invitation to her uncle's shooting-box was not much greater than that of Madge herself. For a moment she was silent, battling against a host of conflicting emotions; then she said bravely:
”You must go, Hope; it is your duty. You may meet people who will take an interest in you and be able to help you on, and we can't afford to lose opportunities. You can take your own compositions, and sing them whenever you have a chance; it will be quite an advertis.e.m.e.nt in a small way.”
”It seems mean to pay a visit with an idea of making something out of it,” said Hope, with a sigh. ”That is the worst of being poor. The money question seems eternally hovering in the background, whatever one may do. I shall enjoy seeing Avice, of course; and if I can really help Aunt Loftus, it will be comforting to feel that the advantage is mutual.
I wonder--What about clothes?”
”That is just what I have been thinking. We can't afford anything new just now, for the bills are to heavy,” replied Philippa sadly. ”We can only bestow our united treasures upon you, dear, and make you as smart as possible. You shall have mother's old lace for your evening-frock; but be careful of it, for if you damage it you need never face me again!
It is going to trim my wedding-dress one of these days.”
”When the lordly male arrives before whom she is to grovel in the dust!
You shall have my feather boa, too. It will hide the shabby front of your jacket;” and Theo sighed, for the feather boa was the pride of her wardrobe, and represented months of saving and self-denial. It was none of your thin, lanky wisps, but a really handsome boa, with a bloom on the feathers like that on a hot-house grape. Theo was fastidious, and would rather do without a thing altogether than accept a poor imitation.
She thought of her reduced appearance without the beloved fluffiness, and heaved another sigh.