Part 6 (1/2)

”If both the boys are running after the family, we ought to find out what they are.”

”You won't be so condescending as you think,” Murray said to her, as he left the room at her side. ”Mrs. Bell is n't the sort to be impressed with the honour you do her.”

Mrs. Townsend and Olive, realising that the wishes of the three male members of the family were not to be lightly disregarded, made the call without further delay. Dressed as carefully as if they had been calling in Worthington Square, they knocked upon the door of the little house in Gay Street, and were admitted by Nancy.

It chanced that this was a Sat.u.r.day afternoon. And Sat.u.r.day was a half-holiday for nearly all workers in the city. Thus it came about that in the middle of the stiff little call--stiff in spite of Mrs. Bell and Jane, who had received their visitors with all simplicity and naturalness--Peter arrived at home. Being burdened with small parcels, he hurried round to the kitchen door, and depositing his parcels on the table there, started in search of his sisters.

”Jane--Nan--where are you?” he shouted through the little house, and before Nancy, springing down the stairs, could stop him, he had bolted into the front room.

Olive Townsend, turning quickly, recognised the big, fresh-coloured youth, with the good-humoured, clever-looking face, who had several times been of a.s.sistance to her. Peter was presented to the visitors by his mother, who seemed quite undisturbed by the interruption. Jane only laughed, and Peter himself recovered his balance with but a momentary show of confusion.

”It was important business, you see,” he said, smiling, and explaining to Jane. ”I brought home the flower-seeds you wanted, and I had an idea they must get into the ground within the next fifteen minutes, or it would be too late.”

”I don't wonder he thought so,” Jane said to Olive, glancing from her brother to her guest. ”I impressed upon him this morning the fact that if the sweet peas were n't planted to-day we should n't have any growing before August. Don't go, Peter. Perhaps Miss Townsend can tell us what else we ought to have in our garden.”

Peter obediently drew up a chair and sat down.

Olive, responding that she knew nothing whatever about gardens, because the gardener always attended to whatever flower-beds there were about the grounds, was conscious of a keen and steady scrutiny from Peter's cool gray eyes, quite as if he were not in the least abashed by her distinguished presence.

She was, moreover, forced to acknowledge, as the moments went by, that Peter could talk, and talk well. He came to the a.s.sistance of Jane, who had begun to feel the difficulties of entertaining the visitor, and told an amusing incident of the morning's experience. Before she knew it, Olive was laughing, for Peter's clever mimicry was quite irresistible.

As she rose to go Olive made an immense condescension: ”I believe it must have been you, Mr. Bell,” she said, ”who picked up my handkerchief for me one day.”

Peter laid his hand on his heart with a droll gesture and a formal bow--an interesting combination.--”I think I had the honour,” he admitted, with a twinkle.

And now something unforeseen happened. Exactly as the visitors rose to go, the April skies, which five minutes before had been smiling, suddenly opened, and poured out one of those astonis.h.i.+ng spring downfalls which arrest street traffic on the instant.

Mrs. Townsend and Olive, with the door opening to let them out, stood still upon the threshold in dismay, glancing down at their delicate spring attire.

”You can't go in this,” said Mrs. Bell, cordially. ”It will be over soon. Please come back and sit down.”

The fates must surely have intended from the first to mix up things between these two families of Townsend and Bell. With that end in view nothing could have been more opportune than this shower, for it lasted a good half-hour without showing signs of slackening, and it contributed also lightning and thunder, which made Olive shrink and shudder. Also Ross, McAndrew and young Rufus Bell, coming home in the late afternoon, and being caught at the corner in the downpour, dashed for the little front porch for shelter, and then into the living-room.

Ross, making apologies on account of his moist condition, and getting through the room and out with Rufus as fast as possible, was yet able to take in the surprising fact that Peter was sitting in the corner with the girl from the aristocratic square, chatting cheerfully with her, and eliciting not altogether unwilling smiles in response.

Out in the kitchen, with the door closed, Ross and Rufus interviewed Nancy.

”How on earth did old Peter get into it like this?” Ross inquired, as he hung his coat to dry by the stove. ”I could hardly believe my eyes to see him confabulating with Miss Worthington Square. She seems quite human, does n't she--when you get her indoors?”

”I don't know,” said Nancy. ”I only let them in. She looks awfully pretty, don't you think? And maybe she's nice when you get to know her.”

”If you ever do,” qualified Ross. ”Pretty? Well, all I saw was a gorgeous hat and a pair of big eyes; I felt as if somebody was looking at me with a spy-gla.s.s. She is n't in it with our Janey, if you're talking about prettiness.”

”No, of course not!” cried loyal Nancy.

By the time the storm had ceased, a good deal of the stiffness in the little front room had melted away. It may be possible for some people to be formal and frigid for the s.p.a.ce of a ten-minute call, but to keep it up for full three-quarters of an hour longer, while rain pours, and lightning flashes, and unconventional young persons dash in and out, and a youth like Peter tells jolly stories--that becomes much more difficult. Mrs. Townsend maintained a peculiar dignity to the end, but Olive--well, in spite of her prejudices, Olive was young, and liked young a.s.sociates, and as she looked and listened, it became more and more difficult for her to refuse to recognise that the people in this little house were not ordinary, not commonplace, not uneducated, as she had fancied them, but bright, and gay, and interesting.

When she gave Jane her hand, as she took her leave--the April storm having at last given place again to brilliant April suns.h.i.+ne--she found herself wis.h.i.+ng she might know this prepossessing maid. There was a straightforward sweetness in the glance of Jane's rich hazel eyes, a captivating charm in her free smile, which the other girl had never encountered in quite so beguiling a form. Olive Townsend, of all the girls whom Jane had ever met least likely to succ.u.mb to the fascinations of another girl not in her own ”set,” fell, nevertheless, considerably under Jane's influence on that very first encounter. In taking leave she said to Jane that which she had not dreamed of saying, commonplace an expression of friendliness as it was: ”I shall hope to see you often, since we live so near.”

”Gone--gone--all gone?” queried Ross, putting in his head cautiously at the living-room door, as the visitors turned the corner.

”All gone,” replied Peter. ”Gone forever--silks and velvets and new spring hats.”