Part 22 (1/2)

Jane hurried down the hall, Sophy's laments in her ears. She found Olive sitting on the foot of her mother's bed talking perturbedly with the elder woman, in the effort to dissuade her from the purpose of attempting to entertain any guests whatever in the circ.u.mstances. But it became evident to Jane at once that Mrs. Townsend was not to be dissuaded.

”There must be somebody to be had,” she a.s.serted, as Jane drew up a chair, after laying a cool hand on the aching forehead and expressing her sympathy with the headache. ”It can't be possible that Lemare could n't send me somebody if he understood the necessity--or Perceval. We don't need much done. Cook had all the preliminary baking done yesterday. It's only to get everything together.”

”But that's the whole of it, mother,” Olive urged. ”You may say it's only a simple luncheon, but Norah and Mary are certainly not equal to it. Is n't it excuse enough to send those women word that you 're ill?

I 'll telephone--or write notes, if you prefer.”

She rose as she spoke, but Mrs. Townsend waved an agitated hand, and shook her head violently. ”You don't understand,” she moaned, pressing her hand to her head and falling back among the pillows. ”There are reasons why I can't have this thing fail. Mrs. Arlo Stevenson is a most difficult person to get for any affair whatever--and this is particularly in her honour. I could have had a caterer, of course, but I consider it not good form to put small entertaining into any hands but one's cook's. I am indebted to Mrs. Wister very deeply, and she is bringing a guest whom she is very anxious to have meet Mrs. Stevenson.

There are other reasons----”

”But, mother”--Olive's tone was growing impatient--”what can't be, can't be. We can't get any one.”

”Perhaps I could do it,” Jane began, with some hesitation. ”If it's really a simple luncheon----”

”It is!” Mrs. Townsend spoke with eagerness.

”I might not be able to manage the most elaborate dishes----”

”Cook can't be too ill to tell you what is necessary.”

”But, mother,” Olive protested, ”Jane must be at the table. She can't be in the kitchen, sending in courses.”

”That's of no consequence,” declared Jane, quickly. ”I don't mind missing the luncheon in the least.”

”They are all older women,” murmured Mrs. Townsend, closing her eyes wearily. When Olive took things in hand, it was always difficult to oppose her.

”Yes, but Jane is our bride. And you expect me to be there. If Jane stays in the kitchen, so shall I.”

”I don't know what to do,” and the poor lady on the bed, among her pillows, looked as if she were indeed suffering.

There was a minute's silence. Then Jane spoke with gentle decision.

”Olive, dear, that is very nice of you, but I truly don't mind in the least. It is n't as if you had n't already introduced me everywhere, and I had n't been entertained over and over. If mother's guests are older ladies, my absence surely won't be noticed. And I 'd love to try what I can do. You know I 've had years of training at cookery, and if I can't manage all of Cook's dishes, perhaps I can subst.i.tute others that are n't at all common. I can promise at least that nothing will be burned.”

”You are a dear child,” said Mrs. Townsend fervently. She wiped away a nervous tear or two.

Olive followed Jane to her room to watch her new sister exchange her morning dress for one more suitable for the affairs she meant to take in hand.

”This is going to be fun,” said Jane gaily.

”I don't see how you can think so. It's certainly very foolish of mother to persist against all odds. One would think her life depended on that luncheon.”

”It does--in a way. Her poor nerves are quite worn out. I 've seen it for a long time. Having things go wrong just now is the last straw.”

”Why, Jane, what's going to happen?” called s.h.i.+rley, five minutes later, encountering Jane on the stairs which led to the servants' rooms on the third floor. s.h.i.+rley had been up to see Cook, who adored her.

”Is Bridget able to see me?” asked Jane.

”She 'll be much flattered. It's sciatica, and it lays her low, but she can converse with intelligence, even with brilliancy. She 's in a terrible state over not being able to get up that luncheon.”

”I 'm going to hold a council of war with her,” and Jane disappeared into Cook's room.

Half an hour later she came out again, her eyes dancing with antic.i.p.ation, pencil and paper in hand. As she ran downstairs, Sophy came up with a tray, and caught the overflow of Bridget's emotions.