Part 20 (2/2)
”Yes, sir; you may depend on me and cook to do everything right----”
”And tell cook about your mistress. Let me see, they'll be home between five and six on Sat.u.r.day evening. I shan't dine at home to-night, and if a telegram comes for me, I want you to wire to my city address. This is it.”
Quentyns left the house, and Susan and the cook spent a busy day in dusting, polis.h.i.+ng, sweeping, and cleaning.
The little spare room looked very sweet and bright with the simple tasty furniture which Quentyns had chosen. The small bed was inviting in its white draperies. The furniture, painted in artistic greens, had a cool and young effect. The room looked like a child's room, and Susan and cook were in ecstasies over its appearance.
”Master _'ave_ taste and no mistake,” said cook. ”But why don't he come and look for 'isself at all we have done, Susan? So natty as everything looks, and the furniture master's taste and all. Won't missis be pleased! But why don't he come and say what he thinks of how we has put the things, Susan?”
”Never you mind,” said Susan. ”Master knows as the arranging of furniture is woman's province--there's no fussing in him, and that's what I likes him for.”
Sat.u.r.day arrived in due time, and the little house in Philippa Terrace was in apple-pie order.
As Quentyns was leaving for town that morning, Susan waylaid him.
”What hour shall I tell my missis that we may expect you home, sir?” she asked. ”Mrs. Quentyns and the little lady will be here by six, and the very first thing my missis will ask is, when you are coming in.”
”Say,” began Quentyns--he paused. ”I'll write a line,” he said; ”you can give it to your mistress. I shan't be in to dinner to-night, and cook had better prepare tea for Mrs. Quentyns and Miss Merton, with fish or chops or something of that sort. I'll write a line--I'm glad you reminded me, Susan.”
Quentyns went into his tiny little study, and wrote a few hasty words.
”DEAR HILDA: I have some important work to get through to-night, and shall not be back early. I have the latch-key, so no one need sit up. I shall dine at the club with Rivers. Go to bed early if you are tired.
”Your Affectionate Husband.”
This letter was handed to Hilda on her arrival. She was too excited and too interested in getting Judy into the house, and showing her all the pleasant arrangements made for her comfort, to read it at first; but when her tired little sister was safe in bed, and Hilda had seen her enjoying a cup of tea, with some toast and a new-laid country egg, then she took Jasper's note out of her pocket.
She was in her own room, and she hesitated for a moment before she opened it. She had a kind of premonition that there was pain in it. Her home-coming had made her happy, and even while she was opening the envelope of Jasper's letter she was listening for the click of his latch-key in the hall-door lock.
He was always home in good time on Sat.u.r.days, and surely he would make extra haste to-night in order to give his wife and his little sister a hearty welcome.
Hilda's was the most forgiving nature in the world. During that scene in the conservatory at Little Staunton she had lost her temper with her husband, but she felt quite sure now that her hasty words must be forgotten. As she forgave absolutely, so would he. Why had he written to her therefore? Why was he not here? She pulled the note out of its envelope, and read the few words that it contained.
It is not too much to say that her heart sank down, down, very low indeed in her breast. She became conscious for the first time in her life of that heart-hunger, that absolute starved sort of ache which had so nearly wrecked Judy's little life. This was the first pang of pain, but the ache was to go on and become worse presently.
Hilda was a very patient sort of woman, however, and it did not occur to her to cry out or make a fuss. She read the note twice, then put it into her pocket and went downstairs.
”Tell cook that I don't want any dinner,” she said to Susan; ”I will have my tea upstairs with Miss Judy. Tell her not to get dinner, as Mr.
Quentyns is obliged to be out this evening.”
”Hilda,” called Judy's weak little voice from out of her luxurious white bed; ”Hilda, do come here a minute.”
Hilda went immediately into the room.
”I am so happy and so sleepy,” said Judy. ”I'm like a bird in a nest--oh, I am so snug. Jasper will be coming in presently, won't he, Hilda? and you'll want to be with him. I shan't need you at all to-night, Hilda darling; I'm going to sleep very soon, and I just sent for you now to say that you mustn't come up to me after dinner--you must stay with Jasper and let him amuse you. I am sure you want lots of amus.e.m.e.nt after all the dull nursing you have had. Go and put on your pretty dinner dress now, Hilda, and then come and look at me and say good-night. I am so awfully happy, and I just want one kiss from you before I go to sleep.”
”But you don't want to go to sleep yet, little puss,” said Hilda, in her most cheerful tone; ”at least I hope you don't until I have had my tea.
I want to have my tea with you, darling, so I hope you don't mind putting up with my company for a little longer.”
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