Part 31 (1/2)
”How unsociable!” says Molly, rather disappointed at the latter's defection. ”Do they never come? All the year round?”
”Grandpapa never. But Philip, I presume, will return to his usual habits once the house begins to fill,--I mean, when the guests arrive.”
”This poor little guest is evidently of small account,” thinks Molly, rather piqued, and, as the thought crosses her mind, the door opens and Philip comes toward her.
”Good-morning,” he says, cheerfully.
”You have breakfasted?” Marcia asks, coldly, in a rather surprised tone.
”Long since. But I will take a cup of coffee from you now, if you will allow me.”
”I hardly think you deserve it,” remarks Molly, turning luminous, laughing eyes upon him. ”Marcia has just been telling me of your bad habits. Fancy your preferring your breakfast all alone to having it with----”
”You?” interrupts he, quickly. ”I admit your argument; it was bearish; but I was particularly engaged this morning. You shall not have to complain of my conduct in the future, however, as I am resolved to mend my ways. See how you have improved me already.”
”Too sudden a reformation, I fear, to be lasting.”
”No. It all hinges on the fact that the iron was hot. There is no knowing what you may not do with me before you leave, if you will only take the trouble to teach me. Some more toast?”
”No, thank you.”
Marcia grows a shade paler, and lets one cup rattle awkwardly against another. Have they forgotten her very presence?
”I have not much fancy for the _role_ of teacher,” goes on Molly, archly: ”I have heard it is an arduous and thankless one. Besides, I believe you to be so idle that you would disgrace my best efforts.”
”Do you? Then you wrong me. On the contrary, you would find me a very apt pupil,--ambitious, too, and anxious to improve under your tuition.”
”Suppose,” breaks in Marcia, with deadly civility, ”you finish your _tete-a-tete_ in the drawing-room. We have quite done breakfast, I think, and one wearies of staring at the very prettiest china after a bit. Will you be good enough to ring the bell, Philip?”
”Our _tete-a-tete_, as you call it, must be postponed,” says Philip, smiling, rising to obey her order; ”I am still busy, and must return to my work. Indeed, I only left it to pay you a flying visit.”
Although his tone includes both women, his eyes rest alone on Molly.
”Then you do actually work, sometimes?” says that young lady, with exaggerated surprise and uplifted lids.
”Now and then,--occasionally--as little as I can help.”
”What a speech, coming from an ambitious pupil!” cries she, gayly. ”Ah!
did I not judge you rightly a moment ago when I accused you of idleness?”
Philip laughs, and disappears, while Molly follows Marcia into a small drawing-room, a sort of general boudoir, where the ladies of the household are in the habit of a.s.sembling after breakfast, and into which, sooner or later, the men are sure to find their way.
Marcia settles down to the everlasting macrame work on which she seems perpetually engaged, while indolent Molly sits calmly, and it must be confessed very contentedly, with her hands before her.
After a considerable silence, Marcia says, icily:
”I fear you will find Herst Royal dull. There is so little to amuse one in a house where the host is an invalid. Do you read?”
”Sometimes,” says Molly, studying her companion curiously, and putting on the air of ignorance so evidently expected.