Part 13 (1/2)
Peter met Vyvian again on the stairs. He was pa.s.sing on, but Vyvian stopped and said, ”What have you been doing to Stefani to put him out so?”
Peter stopped and looked at him for a moment. He felt rather dazed, as if someone had hit him a blow on the head. He had to remember what was this funny bounder's place in the newly-revealed scheme of things. Not merely a funny bounder after all, it seemed, but just what Cheriton had called him. But one couldn't let him know that one thought so; one was ostensibly on Hilary's side, against honesty, against decency, against all the world.
So Peter, having located Vyvian and himself in this matter, said nothing at all, but went on upstairs.
Vyvian, staring after him in astonishment (none of Hilary's boarders had seen Peter discourteous before), raised his eyebrows again, and whistled beneath his breath.
”So we're too fine for our brother's dirty jobs! I'm dashed if I don't believe it's that!”
Peter went upstairs rather too quickly for his heart. He returned to the saloon and collapsed suddenly into a chair, feeling giddy. Mrs. Johnson came in a moment later and found him leaning back with closed eyes. She was disturbed about his complexion.
”The colour of putty, poor Mr. Peter! You've bin excitin' yourself, tearin' about sight-seein', _I_ know. Tell me now just how you feel. I'm blest if I don't believe you've a-bin in the Cathedral, smellin' at that there choky incense! It takes me like that, always; and Miss Gould says she's just the same. Funny feelin's within, haven't you now?”
”Yes,” said Peter, ”just exactly that”; and they so overcame him that he began to laugh helplessly.
”I'm sorry, Mrs. Johnson,” he said presently. ”I'm an a.s.s. But I'm all right now. I came upstairs in a hurry, that's all. And before that a man talked so loud and so fast that it took my breath away. It may be silly, but I _am_ like that, as Miss Barnett says. My brother and sister-in-law are both out, aren't they?”
Mrs. Johnson, sitting down opposite him and studying the returning tints of his complexion, nodded.
”That's it,” she said, more cheerfully. ”You're gettin' a wholesome white again now. I didn't like that unhealthy greeny-grey. But you've none of you any colour, you gentlemen--not you nor your brother nor that pasty Vyvian. None of you but the little curate; he had a nice little pink face. I'm sure I wish some gals cared more for looks, and then they wouldn't go after some as are as well let alone.” This cryptic remark was illuminated by a sigh. Mrs. Johnson, now that she saw Peter improving in complexion, reverted to her own troubles.
Peter replied vaguely, ”No, I suppose they wouldn't. People ought to care for looks, of course. They matter so much more than anything else, really.”
”Without goin' all that way with you, Mr. Peter,” said Mrs. Johnson, ”and with all due respect to Great Minds (which I haven't got and never shall have, and nor had my poor dear that's gone, so I'm sure I don't know where Rhoder got her leanin's from), I will say I do like to see a young man smart and well-kept. It means a respect for himself, not to mention for those he takes out, that is a stand-by, at least for a mother. And the young fellows affect the gals, too. Rhoder, now--she'd take some pains with herself if she went out with a smart fellow, that was nicely turned out himself and expected her to be the same. But as it is--hair dragged and parted like a queer picture, and a string of green beads for a collar, as if she was a Roman with prayers to say--and her waist, Mr.
Peter! But there, I oughtn't to talk like this to a gentleman, as Miss Gould would say; (I do keep on shockin' Miss Gould, you know!) But I find it hard to rec'lect that about you, Mr. Peter; you're so sympathetic, you might be a young lady. An' I feel it's all safe with you, an' I do believe you'd help me if you could.”
”I should be glad to,” said Peter, wondering whether it was for the improvement of Rhoda's hair, waist, or collar that his a.s.sistance might be acceptable.
Mrs. Johnson was looking at him very earnestly; it was obvious that something was seriously amiss, and that she was wondering how much she could venture to say to this sympathetic young man who might be a young lady. She made a sudden gesture with her stout hands, as if flinging reticence to the winds, and leant forward towards him.
”Mr. Peter ... I don't hardly like to say it ... but could you take my gal out sometimes? It does sound a funny thing to ask--but I can't abide it that she should be for ever with that there Vyvian. I don't like him, and there it is. And Rhoder does ... And he's just amusin' himself, and I can't bear it for my little gal, that's where it is.... Mr. Peter, I hate the fellow, though you may say I'm no Christian for it, and of course one is bidden not to judge but to love all men. But he fair gives me the creeps, like a toad.... Do you know that feelin'?”
”Oh, yes,” said Peter readily. ”And of course, I should like immensely to go out with Miss Rhoda sometimes, if she'll let me. But do you think she will? I'm afraid she would be dreadfully bored with me. I haven't a Great Mind, you know.”
”Rhoder likes you,” said Mrs. Johnson, a smile of relief overspreading her jolly face. ”She was sayin' so only the other day. She has a great respect for your knowledge of art, too. 'You wouldn't think it just to talk with him,' she said, 'but he knows the most surprisin' things. Knows them for himself'--that was how she put it--'without needin' to depend on any books, or what anyone else says. I wish I was like that, mother,' she says, and sighs. And of course, I knew why she wished that, and I said to her, 'Rhoder, my dear, never you mind about knowin' things; gals don't need to bother their heads about that. You look after the _outside_ of your head,' I said, chaffing her about her hair, you know, 'and leave the inside to look after itself.' I made her cross, of course; I'm for ever makin' Rhoder cross without meanin' it. But that just shows what she feels towards you, you see. And you'd talk healthy-like to her, which is more than some does, if I know anythin'. One feels that of you, Mr.
Peter, if you'll excuse my sayin' it, that your talk is as innocent as a baby's prattle, though it mayn't always mean much.”
”Thank you very much,” said Peter. ”I will certainly prattle to Miss Rhoda whenever she will let me. I should enjoy it, of course.”
”Then that's settled.” Mrs. Johnson rose, and shook out her skirts with relief. ”And a weight off my mind it will be.... You could make a third with Rhoder and that Vyvian to-morrow afternoon, if you were so good and not otherwise employed. They're off together somewhere, I know.”
”Making a third” was a little beyond even Peter's readiness to be helpful, and he looked dubious.
”I wonder if Mr. Vyvian would let me do that. You see, he doesn't much like me. I expect I give him the creeps, like a toad....” Then, seeing Mrs. Johnson's relieved face cloud, he added, ”Oh, well, I'll ask them to take me,” and she smiled at him as at a good child. ”I knew you would!”
Hilary didn't come in to dinner. That was as well; it gave Peter more time. Perhaps it would be easier late at night to speak of the hopeless, weary, impossible things that had suddenly risen in the way; easier to think of things to say about them that wouldn't too much hurt Hilary or himself.
At dinner Peter was very quiet and polite to everyone. Vyvian's demeanour towards him was touched with irony; his smile was a continual reference to the fellows.h.i.+p of secrecy that bound them. Rhoda was very silent; Peter supposed that Vyvian had been snubbing her.
Hilary came home late. Peter and Peggy and Vyvian were sitting in the dimly-lighted saloon, and the ubiquitous Illuminato was curled up, a sleepy ball, on the marble top of a book-case. Peggy had a habit of leaving him lying about in convenient corners, as a little girl her doll.