Part 20 (1/2)
She looked coquettishly at the Hermit, who was immediately seized with a paroxysm of embarra.s.sment, twitched nervous fingers, and looked as supremely miserable as if his last hour had come. With the energy of despair he managed to blurt out a few words to the effect that--”Stephen--Mr Charrington--home presently--like to be present.
After dinner, perhaps--could go together if Miss Caldecott kindly--left address.”
”Well, _he_ doesn't know how to flirt!” Minnie exclaimed blightingly five minutes later as she and Hope stood in the little hall for a few parting words. ”Can't understand a man like that. No patience with him either. No relation of yours, I hope, dear?”
”None whatever; but, oh Minnie, you should not want to flirt when you are engaged! I do hope you are not going to be married just because you are tired and discouraged and need a rest. I do trust you are not making a mistake,” cried Hope earnestly. ”Are you quite sure you care for hint, and can be happy?”
Miss Caldecott laughed lightly. ”My dear,” she said, ”if I look thirty in my best new veil, it is more than time I was married. And I am so tired of paying my own bills! Jack is very well off, and I intend to make his money fly. It will be a new experience to spend money that some one else has earned.” She paused, looked for a moment into Hope's wistful face, and added impulsively, ”If you will promise faithfully never to tell Jack if you should meet him, I'll let you into a secret.
I'm frightfully happy! I've been in love with him for years. It was difficult to make up my mind when I had been my own mistress for so long, but now that I _have_ given in, I wouldn't go back for the world.
It is nice to be loved and taken care of--far nicer than being independent. You will find that out for yourself some day soon.”
”Dear Minnie, I am so glad! I do congratulate you with all my heart; and 'Jack' too. You will make such a nice, cheerful, good-tempered wife!” cried Hope bravely; whereat Miss Minnie indulged in an elephantine byplay of bashfulness, and ran rustling down the staircase.
”An appalling woman!” the Hermit was reiterating in the drawing-room; but none of the sisters would agree with this denunciation.
”She doesn't wear her heart on her sleeve; neither do we,” maintained Hope. ”She is ever so much nicer when you know her well.”
”She shows great perspicuity in her judgment. Did you hear her say that I was sure to get on?” cried Madge; and Theo smiled as at a pleasant recollection.
”Did you notice how her face softened when we spoke of our trouble? Her lips drooped, and her eyes grew so soft and liquid. My next heroine shall have eyes like that.”
”And if she helps us to find Barney,” sighed Philippa softly, ”I shall bless the name of Minnie Caldecott as long as I live.”
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.
REJOICINGS.
It can be imagined with what eagerness Steve was greeted on his return from the City that evening, how he was hurried through his dinner, and despatched forthwith, in company with the Hermit, to interview ”Jim,”
otherwise Mr James Matthews. The time of waiting seemed unbearably long, but when the two men returned it was at once evident that they were the bearers of good news. The companion of the newspaper shop had been found at last, while Barney himself was now on his way to the Cape, working for his pa.s.sage in the capacity of steward!
Briefly, the tale which Mr Matthews had to tell was as follows. He had made the boy's acquaintance in a luncheon-bar, had been attracted by his breezy, high spirits, and taken some pains to arrange further meetings.
The two had attended theatres and concerts together, and finally Barney had visited his new friend in his rooms, and become the confidant of certain betting transactions in which he was in the habit of indulging.
The boy had begun to bet on his own account, had been unlucky, and had called at the s.h.i.+pping office one day, declaring himself in trouble at home, and anxious to get out of the country for a time at least Mr Matthews told him that his only chance was to s.h.i.+p as a steward, and Barney, being not only willing but eager, was sent to wait his turn at Southampton, and had been fortunate in finding an opening three days after his arrival. ”Jim,” as Miss Caldecott had called him, appeared to be a good-natured, easy-going individual with little sense of responsibility. When sternly questioned by Steve as to whether he considered it right to encourage a boy of seventeen to bet, he smilingly declared that ”every one did it--even the little office-boys put their coppers on the races;” and refused altogether to acknowledge that he should have consulted Barney's friends before sending him abroad.
”But you were the very people he wanted to avoid. There is no need to worry yourself, my good sir. He has signed for the round voyage, and you will see him back in a couple of months, all the better for having to rough it a bit and finding out what hard work means.”
This was his opinion, and, on the whole, Barney's brother and sisters were inclined to agree. After the suspense of the past weeks it was a blessed relief to hear definite news, and, with a good s.h.i.+p and a good captain, there was little fear of the boy's safety. There was just a chance that letters written at once might arrive at Capetown before the vessel sailed on her homeward voyage, and Philippa was already rehearsing loving messages, when Madge cried eagerly:
”Can't we _do_ something to celebrate the occasion? Not to-night, I mean, but to-morrow. We have been in the depths for so long that we need a little festivity. I'm _tired_ of being miserable!”
She felt a pa.s.sing wonder as to the moaning of Hope's quick frown, but Theo chimed in with an eager a.s.sent, and even the grave Steve stretched himself, as if throwing off a burden, and looked pleased at the suggestion.
”I believe we should all be the better for a change. There has been too much work and too little play lately to be good for any of us. The question is, what can we do that is cheap and exciting!”
Madge's grimace was the reverse of approving.
”The greatest change we could have would be to be expensive and lazy.
It is not my idea of pleasure to stand s.h.i.+vering in a queue for a couple of hours, and hunt for omnibuses after a performance. I want to see how the other people live--the people who toil not, neither wear their last year's clothes! I should like to dine at the Carlton, and sit in the hall after dinner watching the coming and going--the pretty girls in their fas.h.i.+on-plate cloaks, and the old ladies in sables and diamonds, going out to theatres and evening receptions--and watch the flirtations, and listen to Theo making up stories. It would be so good for us both; we should get lots of ideas.”