Part 13 (1/2)

What hopes they entertained with regard to him I could never divine, but he seemed to be having the effect which Jane desired, and the attics were filling delightfully.

Jane whispered to me at the end of the second week, that she feared she had made a great mistake.

”Had I known that Mr. Randolph would have the effect he seems to be having,” she said, ”I might have doubled our prices from the very beginning, but it is quite too late now.”

”But why should it be necessary for us to make so much money?” I said.

Jane looked at me with a queer expression.

”So _much_!” she said. ”Oh, we shall do, I am certain we shall do; but I am particularly anxious not to touch that seven thousand pounds capital; at least not much of it. I want the house to pay, and although it is a delightful house, and there are many guests coming and going, and it promises soon to be quite full, yet it must remain full all through the year, except just, of course, in the dull season, if it is to pay well. We might have charged more from the beginning; I see it now, but it is too late.”

She paused, gazed straight before her, and then continued.

”We must get more people of the Captain Furlong type,” she said. ”I shall advertise in the _Morning Post_, and the _Standard_; I will also advertise in the _Guardian_. Advertis.e.m.e.nts in that paper are always regarded as eminently respectable. We ought to have some clergymen in the house, and some nice unmarried ladies, who will take rooms and settle down, and give a sort of religious respectable tone. We cannot have too many Miss Armstrongs about; there were six to dinner last night, and they rather overweighted the scale. Our cake will be heavy if we put so much flour into it.”

I laughed, and counselled Jane to advertise as soon as possible, and then ran away to my own room. I felt if this sort of thing went on much longer, if the girls of the Armstrong type came in greater and greater numbers, and if they insisted on wearing all the colours of the rainbow at dinner, and very low dresses and very short sleeves, I must take to putting on a high dress without any ornaments whatsoever, and must request mother to do likewise.

Miss Armstrong was already attending an Art school, where, I cannot remember, I know it was not the Slade; and on bringing back some of her drawings, she first of all exhibited them to her friends, and then left them lying on the mantelpiece in the drawing-room, evidently in the hopes of catching Mr. Randolph's eye. She did this every evening for a week without any result, but at the end of that time he caught sight of a frightfully out-of-drawing charcoal study. It was the sort of thing which made you feel rubbed the wrong way the moment you glanced at it. It evidently rubbed him the wrong way, but he stopped before it as if fascinated, raised his eyebrows slightly, and looked full into Miss Armstrong's blus.h.i.+ng face.

”You are the artist?” he said.

”I am,” she replied; ”it is a little study.” Her voice shook with emotion.

”I thought so,” he said again; ”may I congratulate you?” He took up the drawing, looked at it with that half-quizzical, half-earnest glance, which puzzled not only Miss Armstrong and her friends but also myself, and then put it quietly back on the mantelpiece.

”If you leave it there, it will get dusty and be spoiled,” he said.

”Is it for sale?” he continued, as if it were an after-thought.

”Oh no, sir,” cried Miss Armstrong, half abashed and delighted. ”It is not worth any money--at least I fear it is not.”

”But I am so glad you like it, Mr. Randolph,” said Mrs. Armstrong, now pus.h.i.+ng vigorously to the front; ”I always did say that Marion had the h'artist's soul. It s.h.i.+nes out of her eyes, at least I am proud to think so; and Marion, my dear, if the good gentleman would _like_ the little sketch, I am sure you would be pleased to give it to him.”

”But I could not think of depriving Miss Armstrong of her drawing,”

said Mr. Randolph, immediately putting on his coldest manner. He crossed the room and seated himself near mother.

”There now, ma, you have offended him,” said Marion, nearly crying with vexation.

CHAPTER X

HER GRACE OF WILMOT

On a certain morning, between twelve and one o'clock, the inhabitants of Graham Square must have felt some slight astonishment as a carriage and pair of horses dashed up to No. 17. On the panels of the carriage were seen the coronet, with the eight strawberries, which denotes the ducal rank. The coachman and footman were also in the well-known livery of the Duke of Wilmot. One of the servants got down, rang the bell, and a moment later the d.u.c.h.ess swept gracefully into the drawing-room, where mother and I happened to be alone. She came up to us with both hands outstretched.

”My dears,” she said, glancing round, ”are they all out?”

”I am so glad to see you, Victoria,” replied mother; ”but whom do you mean? Sit down, won't you?”

The d.u.c.h.ess sank into the nearest chair. She really looked quite nervous.