CHAPTER XII. POPSY-DAD.
The girls, Henrietta and Daisy, were quite intent on their scheme. They were so intent that it kept them good in other respects. They apologised humbly for the injury done to the grand Blüthner. They were very penitent, and declared that it was just merely a lark, and hoped darling, dearest dad would forgive them.
The Reverend Mr. O'Brien could not help saying, after his first pause of astonishment: "The person who has to forgive you is Maureen."
"But why?" said Daisy, in an injured voice. "If you forgive your own little girls, popsy-dad, surely, most surely, no one else ought to be angry."
"It is Maureen's piano," replied the Rector. "You both did a naughty, mischievous—indeed, I may say a wicked thing. I am heartily ashamed of you; but Maureen has got such a glorious spirit of perfect gentleness and love that she may overlook your sin."
"I wish you wouldn't praise her quite so much," said Henrietta.
"I don't over-praise," said the Rector. "I think of her as what she is. She comes of a noble stock. There never was anyone like her dear father, and her sweet young mother in her own way was equally blessed. They have long passed away from this troublesome world, but they have left their child behind them. You are more than fortunate girls to have such a companion, and to have the possibility of making such a friend. I don't say for a moment that you will make Maureen your friend. The matter rests with yourselves. She has the true spirit of forgiveness. No, don't touch the piano. You like to see it in its present horrible condition. I will sit in another room; for to me it is most repugnant. Amuse yourselves as you wish, girls. I am sorry I cannot feel very friendly to you at the present moment, but of course as I have said already, the matter rests in the hands of Maureen."
Certainly neither Henrietta nor Daisy felt comfortable at the Rector's words, and when late that evening Dominic and Maureen returned from Rathclaren, they both rushed out to her, Daisy whispering, "Now keep up your courage, Henny."
There was a standard lamp lighted in the drawing-room, and the ravages done to the Blüthner were very perceptible. Maureen, who had a happy colour in her cheeks and whose eyes were bright and soft, stared for a moment at the mangled instrument with a sort of horror. Mrs. Leach, who had joined the Colonel's tea-party, had not told the child what had happened; and Kathleen, who loved Maureen, had walked about the grounds with her letting her cling to her arm and throwing all the interest of which she was capable into Maureen's account of her life.
"You know, Maureen, you ought to live here," said Kathleen at last.
But Maureen stared at her, and said with a voice of amazement: "What! and leave Uncle Pat?"
So Kathleen said no more. She felt afterwards that she could not.
Now the child stood in speechless despair, looking at her lovely instrument.
"Why, Daisy—why, Henrietta—what has happened?" she asked, and there was a choking sob in her voice. "Has one of the big farm sheep-dogs got in and walked about on the piano? Oh, it is more than that, for someone has been trying to break the lock! Oh, my darling piano—my soul of music——"
"Don't be affected, little brat!" said Daisy, who could flare up just like a match. Whatever else she would have said to the child was interrupted. Whether she would have accepted the theory of the sheep-dog and pretended that a burglar had tried to break the piano open can never be explained, for at that instant the Rector and Dominic entered the room.
Dominic had the steely blue eyes of his father—blue, with just a touch of grey in them—eyes which suddenly turned black at any emotion.
"Have you told Maureen the truth?" asked Mr. O'Brien.
"We—we were going to," said Daisy, "but she flew out with that horrid temper of hers, raving and roaring."
"That is not the way with Maureen. Now tell her the truth before me. Dominic, go and stand by your cousin."
Thus forced, the girls were obliged to say what had occurred. They described their rage when they found the piano locked, and how they had determined to dance a Scotch reel on the top. They confessed that their boots were very muddy, for they had been experimenting on the edge of a boggy piece of ground that morning.
"How," said the Rector, when the ignominious tale had come to an end, "what do you wish to do, Maureen?"
The colour came slowly back to Maureen's face until it burned in her cheeks like two great spots.
"Dominic," she said, without taking the slightest notice of the girls, "we must not let such sheer ignorance trouble us. Go, like a darling to Pegeen, and get me some cloths and some Adams' polish. I daresay I can make the piano look fairly well until it is properly repolished, which 'dear Colonel' I know will get done for me."
"Then we needn't sit up, I suppose," said Henrietta, giving a profound yawn.
"Oh, no," said Maureen. "Oh, I'm very, very sorry for you. You must have felt so bad afterwards. It is dreadful to feel very bad—afterwards. Good-night!"
There was a wonderful gracious sort of dignity about this little girl which subdued the Mostyns for the time being; but they were more than ever determined to punish her.
"She feels nothing; she hasn't a scrap of heart," said Daisy. "Think of her putting on those absurd airs. But we'll touch her yet; I vow we will!"
"Yes, we will, we will—I declare we will!" exclaimed Henrietta. Soon they were lying in their oak bedsteads side by side, and talking in low whispers about how they could punish Maureen.
The next day passed much as usual. The little, half-French, half-Irish girl was very brave, and spent most of her time with Dominic. Her face was sadly pale, and she had a look about her eyes which frightened the boy because he could not understand it. "If she only would fly out in a rage," he thought, "I could bear it better."
The Colonel came as usual to take his little favourite for a ride, and during their ride the child made an unexpected request.
"I don't want to make any complaint," she began, "but I want the dear, darling Blüthner to go home to you for a time. We can hire a piano from Kingsala, and the Blüthner will be safer with you. It got a little injured yesterday, but I can't tell you how, dear Colonel; only if you keep it I shall feel happy, and when I come to you I can sing and play; and we can hire quite a good enough piano at Barry's on the Long Quay at Kingsala."
"There's something the matter with you, my blessing," said the Colonel.
"No, no, nothing at all; only I want to have the Blüthner safe."
Accordingly, a day or two later, a proper van was sent for the Blüthner, which once more found its place in the Colonel's beautiful drawing-room. Soon afterwards a man came and repaired the damage that had been done, and Maureen seemed happy once more; but she little knew what was awaiting her. A piano, the best which could be secured, an upright Broadwood, was hired by Maureen herself from Barry's, and this piano was never locked and the girls could pound on it as much as they pleased.
"Only let me know when you intend to play," said the Rector, "for true music is the delight of my life, whereas such chords and crashes as you produce, to say nothing of your false notes, Henrietta, have a very unpleasant effect upon me."
"Well, I am sure," said Henrietta, "I was always remarked at school for my glorious voice. They said that if I wasn't so rich I ought to go in for opera, and I am sure Daisy plays my accompaniments first rate."
"I do so," said Daisy. "I have two big chords for the bass, and play the tune with one or two fingers for the treble. I am told it has a very pleasing effect."
"Well, play your own way," said the Rector, "but don't ask me to admire what is not music."
All this time the hearts of the two girls were waxing very hot within them. They had looked in vain for any medical book in their father's library, and at last they determined to drive into Kingsala and ask the chemist to give them some rat poison.
"We must be careful of one thing," said Henrietta to her sister; "we do not want to kill the horse, we only want to make him very ill. Then she'll get into a pepper and we'll pretend to sympathise, and have our lark all the time."
Accordingly, on a beautiful bright morning, the Misses Mostyn implored their step-father to lend them the phaeton in order to drive to Kingsala.
"What do you want to do there, my dears?"
"Oh, lots of the sort of things that men don't take any interest in," said Henrietta. "We want to furbish ourselves up a little. They say Barry's shop isn't half bad."
"Oh, ribbons and laces," said the Rector. "Well, I have no particular use for my horse this morning, and Laurence, the groom, can drive you in. Would you like to go too, Maureen, my pet? You could take Kitty with you and choose her summer hat for her."
"Oh, Uncle Pat, Kitty doesn't want a summer hat. I have just finished the third of those pretty white muslin ones, and nothing could look sweeter on her dear little head. No, I don't think I want to go; not to-day at least. Thank you all the same, Uncle Pat."
About an hour later Henrietta and Daisy were driving off in the phaeton to Kingsala. The Rector with his increased means was thinking of buying a smart little pony-trap for two ponies, which would exactly suit Maureen and Kitty. He had heard that there was the very trap and also the small ponies for sale in the auction mart in Cork, and determined to start off the following day to try and secure them. Garry could manage the ponies as well as the spirited Arab. The Rector would go round to the stables and speak to him at once on the subject. Maureen's birthday, when she would be fifteen, was drawing nigh, and he thought that a new pony trap would be a nice present for her.
He felt very happy as he paced about his neatly-kept grounds and tried as far as possible to banish the thought of the Mostyn girls from his mind. Of course he was bound to look after them, but he could not like them. In fact, they tried him inexpressibly.
Meanwhile, the said girls, in every scrap of finery they could collect, drove to the town where their mother had so often been before them. Mrs. O'Brien was very well known; the Misses Mostyn were not known at all. The little town was all alive and eager, for a regatta was going on that day, and the bay was full of beautiful yachts, and Patrick's Quay was crowded with spectators. The chemist intended to shut up shop and join the group, who watched the different races, as soon as possible. He was a young man with carroty hair and sunken chin. His name was Driscoll.
Now Driscoll was by no means pleased at the arrival of fresh customers. He didn't want either them or their money; he was all agog for the beautiful races, and hated to have his time interfered with. The Misses Mostyn were not attractive-looking girls. Daisy saw his impatience at a glance and immediately proceeded to take advantage of it. Driscoll pretended not to see her drift, but he took the measure of the young lady.
"What may ye be wanting?" he asked. "Don't ye know that this is a holiday? And I'm just on the p'int of shutting up shop."
"Oh, it won't take you a minute, Mr. Driscoll," said Daisy. "Father is the Rector of Templemore, and couldn't come himself, so he sent us. He wants us to buy some rat-poison."
"Are ye the daughters of she who bruk her neck?" asked Driscoll.
"We are—we are lone orphans on the mother's side," said Daisy; "but we couldn't have a better father."
"Ye are right there; a holier man never walked the road. What is it ye said he was wanting?"
"Rat poison. Please give it to us quickly. It isn't for us; it is for the Rector."
"Did he send in a prescription?"
"No; whatever is that?"
"I can't sell pisons without a prescription," said Driscoll. "I'd get into a fine mess. If the Rector is troubled with rats—though I thought I'd banished every one of them some months ago when 'herself' was alive—he'd best write to me and I'll send it to him. No, ladies, I'm sorry to be disobliging, but without a prescription no pison will ye get."
"Oh, dear, dear," said Henrietta; "father will be so disappointed. Perhaps there are some other chemists in the town who won't be so particular, Mr.—Mr. Driscoll."
"Another chemist!" Driscoll threw up his hands. "Could Kingsala support two, I'd like to ask ye? No; I'm the wan and the sole wan. I sold some rat-poison to 'herself' a time back; but I suppose when the rats were gone she was wise enough to destroy it. There now, I must say good-day to ye, ladies, for I must shut up shop."
The girls felt a good deal disappointed, but they were the sort of young people who kept their feelings to themselves. They marched about the town and peeped into Barry's shop and entered and bought yards upon yards of pale blue ribbon, which they desired the man to put down to the Reverend Patrick O'Brien, as they were his daughters.
Presently they found themselves on Patrick's Quay, which was now packed and crowded with eager spectators. The greatest yacht-race of the season was about to come off. The Sea Foam, a magnificent yacht, belonging to the Earl of Banbury, was to compete against the Sea Sprite, a local yacht belonging to a Mr. Jagoe.
Excitement had risen to its extreme height. All the population wanted Jagoe's yacht to win, but the Sea Foam out-did her with the utmost ease, flying gracefully like a bird over the bosom of the waters, out of the inner harbour into the outer and then back again, beating the Sea Sprite by a matter of at least ten minutes. The Sea Sprite came to her anchorage looking dull and dusty, with her sails torn, for the wind had got up a good bit; but the Sea Foam lay like a white swan, calm and at rest on the waters.
The great races were followed by little races, sailing boats and row-boats and canoe races. The whole scene was most brilliant and charming, and every girl in the place put on all the finery she possessed, and all the men members of the yachting club were in white flannels. Nobody spoke to Henrietta or to Daisy, though the chemist approached them once and said, "Have ye got that there rat-pison?" but Henrietta in the midst of her present surroundings, threw up her head in extreme haughtiness and said: "Sir, I have not the pleasure of your acquaintance."
"Driscoll by name, and Cautious by nature," replied the chemist. He then turned and said something to his companion, a pretty little girl of his own class. They both looked at the Misses Mostyn, and both laughed loudly, and Henrietta and Daisy thought it as well to start on their homeward way.
As they were approaching the Rectory, Daisy said in a low voice, which she could assume at will and which certainly the groom could not hear, "I have a notion in my head, Henny-penny!"
"What is that, Daisy? To tell the truth, I'm about tired of your notions. They never come to anything at all."
"Well, but this one will—this one will," said Daisy, skipping up and down in the phaeton as she spoke. "Don't you remember what that horrid man Driscoll said—that he had sold rat-poison to mumsie some time ago; so there must have been rats once at Templemore. He said also, of course, that naturally mumsie pumsie would destroy the poison when the rats were gone—but I'm by no means so sure of that. It was not a bit the way of the careless old duck."
"Well?" said Henrietta.
"Well, what I'm thinking is this: that we have got to find what is left of the rat-poison."
"Oh," said Henrietta, "I haven't a notion where to look for it." She yawned as she spoke. "These long drives do make one so sleepy," she said.
"You don't seem interested in anything, Henny. You are an old goose!"
"Am I? Well, that's better than being a young gosling."
"By the way," said Daisy, "I remember a lovely story. I know it is true, for a girl at our dear old school told it to me. It happened to a lady she knew, and she said it was as true as paint. It was this: There was a very, very stout old body—oh, monstrous stout, but not really ill, only hypochondriacal, and of course she was always and forever sending for the doctor. He was a country doctor, but he had a sense of humour in him. One day the old dame said to Doctor Macgregor, 'Doctor, I'm about to visit London.' 'Are ye now that?' said he. You see, she was an Irish body and she spoke the Irish brogue. 'And is it you that will cross the sea, Miss Marmaduke?' 'Yes, to be sure,' she answered; 'and why not?' 'Well,' said the doctor, who was a bit of a wag, 'ye'll be mighty sick, ye know.' 'I suppose I will,' she answered. 'Maybe I'll die. But I've a great longing to see London town.' 'Ye won't die,' said the doctor, 'if that is what ye are thinking of. But ye'll be mighty uncomfortable with all that fat on yer body. You'll wish yourself safe back in Dublin, that ye will.' 'Well, anyway, I'm going,' said the stout lady, 'and I'll tell ye what it is, Doctor Macgregor, I don't think ye make half enough of my illness and suffering.' 'Me not think enough of them!' said he. 'Why, I'm thinking of them day and night.' 'Well, to be sure, are ye now,' said the lady. 'But there is one thing I must say to you, doctor, you haven't a sympathetic manner.' 'It doesn't do for a doctor to be sympathetic with his patients,' said the doctor. 'Sympathy would kill them off like flies.' 'I am surprised to hear ye say that,' said the stout lady; 'I should have thought it would have done them a power of good. Well, anyway, ye must acknowledge that I am ill.' 'Oh, very ill, ma'am; very ill entirely.' 'Then I think as I am going to London,' said the stout lady, 'that you might write a letter to the cleverest doctor there—an Irishman if ye can find one—and give me the letter to take to him, and I'll be bound I'll get out what is the matter with me.' 'Well, to be sure, I'll do that,' said the doctor. 'I know the very man, too—Malony of Harley Street. When are ye going to cross the briny?' 'To-morrow as ever is,' she replied. 'Well, I'll give ye a note to Malony which will clinch the business. Ye mustn't be frightened at anything he says to ye, for ye must remember ye have brought it on yourself.'
"So the next day that wag of a fellow brought her a letter and told her to call on the great Doctor Malony and put his letter carefully into the hands of the great man, and to make up her mind for a really bad verdict. The stout old lady was delighted, for she loved bad verdicts. She got on board the boat and as the sea was rough, she suffered a good deal from sickness; but the sicker she was the more she liked herself, and the worse she was the tighter she clasped Doctor Macgregor's letter in her hand. The sea certainly was rough, and most of the passengers were sick, and the stewardess brought the fat old lady some brandy and water to drink. The boat gave a great roll that moment and lo and behold! in a minute the beautiful letter which was to seal the stout lady's doom was sopped through and through with brandy and water. She felt angry for a moment, but then it flashed through her mind that she'd open it, for it was quite soft like pulp, and she would be able to see for herself what Doctor Macgregor said about his patient. 'At the least, it must be the beginning of cancer,' she murmured. 'Dear, dear, dear! But anyhow, he'll tell the truth to a brother physician, and it is as well for me to know.'
"Well, Henny-penny, what do you think? They were getting towards the harbour then, and it wasn't so rough, and she was able to read the words inside the letter; and if ever a woman's eyes dilated and if ever her heart throbbed, the fat old lady's did then, for Doctor Macgregor's letter was brief and to the point: 'Dear Malony,' it ran, 'I am sending you a fat goose. Pluck her well and send her back to me!' You may be quite sure, Henny-penny, that the fat old lady never went near Malony; but she tore the letter in little bits and went to a quack, who told her she had innumerable illnesses, all jumbled together, and if there was any chance of her life, she must undergo at least four operations; so she was as happy as the day was long. I declare you have scarcely smiled, and I doing my level best to amuse you! Well, here we are back at Templemore. Now then, jump out. I'm starving for tea if you aren't."
The girls went into the house. Maureen and Kitty were away. Neither Dominic nor Denis were anywhere to be found, and the Rector was as usual visiting his sick and sorry parishioners.
The girls took their tea soberly, Henrietta hardly thinking at all and feeling half asleep, but Daisy's brain being, as usual, very much on the alert. When tea was a thing of the past and Burke had cleared away all traces of it from the great hall, Daisy made her invariable remark: "How many new-laid eggs and how much peach-jam did you eat in the kitchen to-night, Burke?"
Burke stared glumly at the young lady, and made no answer of any sort; Daisy lost her temper a little and flew at Burke and said, "You are a nasty thief of an old man."
"If you plaze, miss, ye'll have the goodness to lave me alone," Burke replied. He then walked with a dignity which the girl herself would never possess out of the hall and in the direction of the kitchens.
"Pegeen," he said, "it's me heart that's bruk entirely."
"Ah, wisha, honey," said Pegeen, "I wouldn't fret for the likes o' they."
"They have come to that pass that they accuse me—ME—of theft. Am I likely to put up with that?"
"Is it me 'ud do it?" said Pegeen; "I'd scratch their faces for 'em. But you being a rale jintleman, Mr. Burke, honey, couldn't do that; but I'll do it for ye, quick, as soon as possible."
Meanwhile Henrietta strolled languidly into the drawing-room. She opened the piano supplied by Barry and produced false chords and crashes which would have sent Maureen or the Rector flying from the house; but Daisy left her to her amusement and went softly, very softly upstairs. She had long ago regretted her silly nonsense about the banshee and the haunted room, for that north chamber where she and her sister slept was the reverse of comfortable. The great spacious, lovely bedroom, which had been her mother's, was now occupied by the Rector of Templemore, and next to it was the little dressing-room belonging to Maureen. Daisy's flaxen head stole cautiously round the door of the big room. It was empty. So much the better. She now went on tiptoe, trembling in her excitement, towards a little old medicine closet, which was let into the wall.
This medicine closet had not been opened or cleaned or touched since the late Mrs. O'Brien's death, and it was the thought of that little cabinet and of what it might possibly contain which had made Daisy's heart so light and her voice so merry on her way home. Now she opened it wide and began to explore. There were all sorts of dusty, grimy bottles within, some half full, some empty, some bearing the words "Sal Volatile," some bearing the words "Ipecacuanha," others "Epsom Salts," others "Ginger," others "Peppermint." But in the back of the cupboard, pushed out of sight, stood a small row of very dark blue bottles with poison written on them in large letters.
Daisy's heart almost choked her with delight. One contained laudanum, and the directions were, "To be rubbed over the affected parts when the pain is severe." Another contained belladonna, with the same directions, and on each bottle was inscribed the words, "Not to be taken internally. POISON." But Daisy's eyes lit up with bliss when she came across a little pot marked Rat-poison, and with full directions how to use it.
"Spread some of the mixture on thin bread and butter and leave it near the rat-hole. The contents of this pot are principally arsenic and phosphorus. A dose sufficient to kill a dozen rats can be put on a very small square of bread."
Daisy put the rest of the bottles back into their places and danced downstairs to Henny-penny.
"Seek—find! Which hand?" she exclaimed. Her tiny eyes were blazing with delight.
Henrietta turned from her strumming on the piano to look at her.
"What is the matter with you, Daisy? What are you so excited about?"
"Come up to our bedroom at once," she said. "I have just grand news for you. Come along as fast as ever you like."
Henrietta began to feel really excited. She followed her sister upstairs. They locked themselves into the ugly bedroom, and there Daisy told the story of her great discovery. Henrietta listened in breathless silence.
"Where's the horse now?" she asked.
"Out, of course, with that little brat Maureen. We'll do it to-night, Henny; we'll do it to-night."
Henrietta turned the rat-poison round and round.
"I don't think," she said, after a pause, "he'll eat his mash if some of this horrid stuff is put into it. You said the mumsie had other poisons."
"Oh, yes; laudanum and belladonna."
"Well, I think if I were you, Daisy, I'd put this rat-poison back again and secure the bottle with the laudanum. He would not taste that if it was well mixed up in a big soft mash. You know, we mustn't kill him. I declare positively against that. How much do you think we might venture to put in?"
"I don't know," said Daisy. "I wish I did."
Then she clapped her hands excitedly. "I know, I know!" she exclaimed. "I'll ask the village nurse, Miss Duncom."
"Then you give yourself away," said Henny. "You quite frighten me, Daisy."
"It is because I don't want to frighten you that I ask the village nurse. I shan't mention the horse's name. Of course not. Now I know Miss Duncom is going to Mrs. Haggarty's cottage to dress the old woman's leg, and I'll catch her as sure as sure. I'll keep the laudanum bottle up in our room until we want it. I'll manage to creep into Fly-away's loose box by means of the window. I know that that detestable Garry always brings him his mash the last thing, and then locks him in for the night. Now, don't keep me, Henny. I'll change this rat-poison. The laudanum will be miles better."
"Oh, do be careful," said her sister.
Daisy presently dashed into their joint bedroom. She had put back the rat-poison and had brought up the little dark blue bottle of laudanum.
"Here, hide it under your bed," she exclaimed.
"No; under yours," said Henrietta.
"As you please," remarked Daisy. "Only it seems I have all the trouble while you have the fun. Think of her screeching and raving over her dying horse, and I'll have done it all—all."
"The horse is not to die," said Henrietta.
"Well, I suppose you do not mind his being made ill?"
"No, I don't mind that. I don't mind giving her a fright."
"Well, then, let me go off, for goodness' sake."
Daisy dashed up the avenue and arrived at Mrs. Haggarty's. As she expected, Nurse Duncom was there. She was a remarkably nice-looking young woman, and all the people in the place adored her. The bandaging of the leg had taken place, and she was just leaving the cottage, when she saw Daisy.
"Why, Miss Mostyn, is anything wrong? Is there anything I can do for you?"
"Oh, nothing really wrong," said Daisy; "only I don't want to frighten father. He loves me so much. I suffer at night from such horrible pains in my tummy-tum, and I found in dear mother's old medicine cupboard a little bottle of laudanum. Do you think I might take a few drops?"
"I don't think you ought to take any," said Nurse Duncom. "It is a very dangerous medicine, and I should not dream of ordering it for you. You could have peppermint or something harmless of that sort."
"But, please, would three drops kill me?"
"Certainly not. I dare say you could manage to take eight drops, provided you gave them to yourself in a measure glass, without coming to any harm; but I cannot possibly order them for you."
"If a—a cow was in awful pain, would you give it more than that?"
"Undoubtedly, though I don't know anything about the treatment of cows. What queer questions you are asking me, Miss Mostyn. The cow is a much larger animal and can stand a much bigger dose, but really I would not dream of ordering laudanum for any creature. I am sorry you are suffering; probably it is indigestion. I will send you up a little bottle of peppermint to-night, and you can take from ten to fifteen drops in a little water. That is quite safe. Good-bye now, Miss Mostyn. I must hurry to old Burchell. Talk of pain! Ah, you little know what it means. I must give him his dose of morphia, but nothing will save his life. Still, he will be looking out for me, and the morphia keeps the worst agonies under."
Daisy danced back to her sister.
"I have everything as pat as pat," she said. Little she cared for Burchell's dying agonies. "I saw Duncom and she told me. I did not give myself away in the least. We must give Fly-away from sixteen to twenty drops of the laudanum. Luckily there is a little medicine glass in mumsie's cupboard. I'll measure it into that. Then he'll get rather bad, but he won't die. Hurrah! Hurrah! I am a clever girl!"