Volume Ii Part 8 (1/2)
Much as King Lear looked when he first detected the real natures of Regan and Goneril, so did Mr. Sleek gaze in horror on his two rebellious daughters.
”Bos.h.!.+” he exclaimed with indignation. ”Do you mean to tell me that after romping together all the afternoon in the hay, and getting their skins full of my champagne, they won't amalgamate, as you call it? Why, they'll be calling each other by their Christian names before supper time.”
But the sisters showed no signs of yielding.
”I tell you what it is, girls,” said their father in anger, ”you're a pair of ungrateful minxes. Don't 'pa' me,” he added at the duet of deprecation that followed. ”My daughters are going to dance with a lord,” he continued with tragic fervour, ”and their poor old father isn't good enough for them.”
Mr. Sleek did not go to business that morning. A terrible ceremony that lasted a good hour and a half was gone through. Mr. Sleek's list, which had originally contained over a hundred names, was shorn of its fair proportions, till but a little handful of the least objectionable remained. With the eloquence of a Cicero and the skill of an attorney-general, Miss Sleek ”showed cause” against everybody. Though he fought hard he had to yield, for the girls were two to one. But he did not give in without a struggle, and he fought loyally for the absent Dabbler, but the girls were inexorable.
”Mr. Dabbler is too dreadful, papa. I'm sure he'd forget himself, and he would insist on dancing.”
Now both the Misses Sleek had a vivid recollection of poor Dabbler's terpsich.o.r.ean efforts at a certain Guildhall ball. Not contented with walking through his square dances, as is the lazy custom now-a-days, Mr.
Dabbler had _danced_ them with a vigour and ingenuity which would have a.s.suredly brought down the house at a transpontine theatre. Even at the Guildhall, Dabbler's style was peculiar to himself, and productive of amazement and delight to all but his partners and those who figured in the same set. Dabbler was a vigorous dancer. When he set to his partner, he performed a sort of cellar-flap breakdown; when he stood in the middle of the quadrille while his _vis-a-vis_ advanced and retired with the two ladies, he still continued dancing. ”To dance implies that a man is glad,” and Dabbler was a cheerful-minded fellow enough, but no lady danced with him a second time. The eyes of the Misses Sleek flashed with unaffected rage and horror at the terrible remembrance of that dreadful night in the City.
There was nothing for it but to yield, and Mr. Sleek, when he had had time to cool, came to the conclusion that perhaps after all his daughters were right.
Romping among the hayc.o.c.ks may be very good fun, but the elaborate toilettes in which he found his daughters arrayed on the eventful afternoon effectually convinced him that the romping, if romping there was to be, would be entirely confined to the few juveniles who graced the entertainment with their presence.
The house was turned inside out. The drawing-room floor had been duly chalked in elaborate devices; the staff at The Park, in new gowns, caps and ap.r.o.ns, was reinforced by an army of myrmidons from the City. Huge blocks of ice decorated the dining-room, and Messrs. Toot and Kinney's band already discoursed sweet music from the Italian summer-house. The plump charms of his two daughters were freely displayed in elaborate Parisian costumes, _merveilleuse_ dresses of striped satin; one girl affected pink, the other sky blue. So resplendent was their appearance that the proud father hardly recognized his two buxom daughters in their gay attire.
But carriages, dog-carts and antediluvian flys began to pour into The Park. Every lady on her arrival received a bouquet of hot-house flowers, every gentleman was presented with an elaborate b.u.t.ton-hole of orchids.
Not a single invitation had been refused. King's Warren and the region round about had come to the philosophical conclusion that if Mr. Sleek, of The Park, was good enough for Squire Warrender, he was good enough for them. More than this, even those who had once pa.s.sed the Sleek girls with a condescending nod, or with their noses high in air, had deigned to intrigue for invitations; and in the hour of their triumph the girls had not been ill-natured, n.o.body had been refused.
There was quite a crowd in the shady corner of the hay-field to watch the so-called haymaking, a familiar sight enough to the King's Warreners, and there _was_ romping among the hayc.o.c.ks. But the pastoral amus.e.m.e.nt was only indulged in by the children of the village school.
Young Mr. Wurzel, in the s.h.i.+niest of boots, yellow gloves, a pink tie and a white hat, his bride-elect, Miss Grains, upon his arm, looked on approvingly, and it is not to be wondered at if the young fellow's eye dwelt, somewhat too long for Miss Grains' satisfaction, upon their young hostesses. The Reverend John Dodd, as usual, was surrounded by a throng of female wors.h.i.+ppers, the party from The Warren was in full force, and it somewhat astonished the Misses Sleek to note that Georgie and her cousin were in ordinary afternoon muslin dresses. No doubt the Sleek family would have been more gratified if, instead of his brown billyc.o.c.k, Lord Spunyarn had worn his coronet; he probably didn't travel with it, however.
All went merry as a marriage bell.
”My dear young ladies, surely we ought to join in this,” said the Reverend Jack with a smile, addressing his hostesses, as he pointed to the children who were pelting each other with the perfumed hay.
But the _merveilleuse_ costumes of the Sleek girls were better suited for looking on than for taking part in the actual performance.
”Oh, we should like it of all things, Mr. Dodd, but _we_ must reserve ourselves. You see _we_ are almost bound to dance every dance, and there is so much to do, and so much to see to. But if any one would like to make hay we should be so pleased, and so would the children.”
”You are not haymakers to-day, then, only shepherdesses looking after an unruly and, I see, rapidly increasing flock. It's a very sweet pastoral, you only want your crooks to complete the picture. I, too, am a shepherd, you know; but a shepherd in black and without his crook is somewhat in the way. With your permission, then, I shall join the children,” said the vicar with a smile.
”The crook will come in time, Dodd; you may depend upon it we shall see you a bishop one of these days, after all,” laughed Haggard good-naturedly.
”Thank you so much, Mr. Haggard,” said a deep voice at his elbow, which made him start; ”thank you so much for attempting to recall my poor husband from this frivolous scene to higher things. My unhappy husband, Mr. Haggard,” she added in a confidential whisper, ”has no ambition.
John Dodd, Mr. Haggard, is, I regret to say, a trifler. It has been the labour of my life to try and withdraw his mind from frivolities, and to keep him in the path which would ultimately lead him to what should be the goal of every clergyman's ambition. Oh, if he would only try to be a little more like my dear father. If he would only think less of carnal things,” and here the vicaress gave a snort and looked spitefully at the Misses Sleek, between whom the Reverend Jack still lingered.
The Misses Sleek were plump, the Misses Sleek were pretty, even if they were a little over-dressed; but to call them ”carnal things” was at least unkind.
”Console yourself, dear Mrs. Dodd,” said Haggard with a smile; ”the vicar will be just as attentive to the school children in the hay as he is to our young hostesses now,” he added with intention.
”Too well I know it, Mr. Haggard. And can there be a sadder sight than to see the vicar of this parish romping in the hay with village hoydens?”
Haggard's prophecy turned out to be correct, for the vicar threw off his coat and joined the children; and he, the greatest child of them all, was soon thoroughly enjoying himself.