Part 14 (1/2)
CHAPTER XV.
THE STRIKE.
It was now the beginning of August, and just ”grilling,” as Donald would have expressed it.
It seemed almost as difficult to Barbara to leave the sea as it is to get out of bed on a winter morning.
”It must be so very nice to be a mermaid--in summer,” she said, looking back at the water, as she and Marie went up the beach one morning.
”Yes,” returned Marie, ”If they had short hair. It must take such a lot of combing.”
Marie was not so enthusiastic about bathing as her companion. Perhaps her want of enthusiasm was due to the fact that she was not allowed to bathe every day, because ”it took up so much time that might be devoted to her studies.” At first Mademoiselle Therese had tried to persuade Barbara that it would be much better for her to go only once or twice a week too.
”There are so many English at the _plage_,” she complained, ”that I know you will talk with them; and it is a pity to come to France to learn the language and waste your time talking with English, whom you can meet in your own country.”
”But I won't talk with them,” Barbara had a.s.sured her. ”You know how careful I have been always to speak French--even when I could hardly make myself understood.”
The girl's eyes twinkled, for Mademoiselle Therese had a mania for speaking English whenever possible, and at first always used that language when with her pupil, until Barbara had asked her if she had got so accustomed to speaking English that it was more familiar to her than French! Since then, she only used English in public places, or when she thought English people were near.
”It is such a good advertis.e.m.e.nt,” she explained complacently. ”You never know what introductions it may make for you.”
Barbara had used the same argument in favour of bathing every day, and had prevailed, though she had really been very particular about speaking French--not, I fear, from the desire of pleasing Mademoiselle Therese, but because of the thought of the home people, and what she meant to do for them.
”I can't understand how you can bear riding in this weather,” Marie remarked, as they toiled slowly home in the sun. ”It would kill me to jog up and down on a horse in a sun as hot as this.”
”Not when you're accustomed to it,” Barbara a.s.sured her. ”You would want to do it everyday then. I'm going to ride to St. Lunaire this afternoon.”
”Then Aunt Therese won't go for the walk after supper. What a happiness!” Marie cried, for Mademoiselle Loire was not so strict as her sister.
The latter had grown quite reconciled to her journeys to Dinard now, and, as a matter of fact, was looking forward with regret to the time they must cease. She found the afternoons in the Casino Gardens with her friend very pleasant, and came back each time full of ideas for altering everybody's clothes.
This she was not permitted to do, however, for Mademoiselle Loire had an unpleasant remembrance of similar plans on a previous occasion, which had resulted in many garments being unpicked, and then left in a dismembered condition until Marie and she had laboriously sewed them up again! This particular afternoon Mademoiselle Therese was in a very complacent mood, having just retrimmed her hat for the second time since its immersion, and feeling that it was wonderfully successful.
”If I had not been acquainted with the English language, and had so many pressing offers to teach it,” she said, as they were walking up to the riding-school, ”I should have made a wonderful success as a _modiste_. Indeed, I sometimes wonder if it might not have been less trying work.”
”That would depend on the customers, wouldn't it?” Barbara returned; but did not hear her reply, for she had caught sight of Monsieur Pirenne at the _manege_ door, and knew that he did not like to be kept waiting. Mademoiselle Therese always waited to see them mounted, feeling that thereby she ensured a certain amount of safety on the ride; moreover, there was a ceremony about the matter that appealed to her.
Monsieur Pirenne always liked to mount Barbara in the street, and, before getting on to his own horse, he lingered a while to see that there were a few people present to witness the departure, for, like Mademoiselle Therese, he had a great feeling for effect. After seeing Barbara safely up, he glanced carelessly round, flicked a little dust from his elegantly-cut coat, twirled his mustachios, and leaped nimbly into the saddle, without the help of the stirrup.
A flutter of approval went round the bystanders, and Mademoiselle Therese called out a parting word of warning to Barbara--just to show she was connected with the couple--before they moved off. Their progress down the street was as picturesque as Monsieur Pirenne could make it; for whatever horse he might be on, he succeeded in making it caracole and curvet, saying at intervals, with a careless smile--
”Not _too_ near, mademoiselle. Manon is not to be trusted.”
”I believe he would do the same on a rocking-horse,” Barbara had once written home; but she admired and liked him in spite of these little affectations--admired him for his skill in horsemans.h.i.+p, and liked him for his patience as a master.
This ride was one of the nicest she had yet had, as the road, being bordered for a great part of the way by the links, made capital going.
It was when they had turned their faces homeward, and were just entering the town, that something very exciting happened. They had fallen into a walk, and Barbara was watching the people idly, when she recognised among the pa.s.sers-by the face of the ”solicitor” of Neuilly!
She felt sure it was he, although he was just turning down a side street; and after the shock of surprise she followed her first impulse, and, putting her horse at a gallop, dashed after him.