Chapter Five.
An Unexpected Visitor.
During the next few weeks the workmen took possession of the Grange, and each morning as Kit made her appearance in the schoolroom Christabel had some fresh item of intelligence to unfold.
“A blue paper is going up in the bedroom—pale, pale blue, with loops of roses tied with lovers’ knots—s–imply sweet! ... Nothing but brown paper in the little room over the door—nasty, common brown paper like you use for parcels. Hideous! What can they be thinking of?”—and the girls would stare together through the windows, watching every movement of painters and paperers with breathless interest.
Later on a still more exciting period was reached, when vanloads of furniture arrived, and their contents were spread about on the roadway. Then the Rendell girls massed themselves in the porch-room, and while they manufactured needle-books, and scattered bran over the floor in the wholesale manufacture of pincushions, Lilias played the part of Sister Anne, sitting with idle hands, reporting progress to the workers, and sounding a bugle-note of warning when any object appeared which demanded attention. The numberless packing-cases were baffling to feminine curiosity, but the furniture itself was so unique that the most prosaic articles assumed a surprising interest. There were no modern designs to be seen here, no cream enamelled bedroom suites, no green wood chairs, nor cosy corners. Everything belonging to the house was of a sombre grandeur which belonged to another country than our own. Sideboards and cabinets of carved Indian wood blocked up the roadway, and made black patches against the oak-panelled walls; overmantels of the same dusky hue stretched up to the ceilings, and Oriental rugs of priceless value, but distressing shabbiness, were spread over the floors, while the lower windows were covered with screens of carved wood, such as are to be seen over the windows of Turkish harems.
Lilias, the worldly wise, was pleased to pronounce the equipments of the house as in “a style of quiet magnificence,” but her sisters were less enthusiastic, and Nan screwed up her saucy nose in open disdain.
“Very grand and antique-y, and all that sort of thing, but my, how dull! Fancy sitting in that oak-panelled room, with those black ghosts reared up against the walls, and the light shut out by those carved screens. I should go stark, staring mad! Give me something bright and cheerful, and lots of sunshine. What worries me is that there is so little that is feminine and frivolous. I haven’t seen a single thing as yet that looks suitable for a girl’s room.”
“But think of the cases! All those dozens and dozens of cases. You can never tell what may be inside them. They may be stored with—”
“Treasures of buhl and ormolu!” sighed Kit softly. “That’s what they always say in books, though I haven’t the slightest idea what it means. Wouldn’t it be a terrific blow if there were no girls after all?”
But such a possibility the Rendells absolutely refused to admit. The prospect of finding friends of their own age in the deserted Grange had taken such firm hold of their imagination, that Véronique, Evangeline, and Ermyntrude had already become living companions who played a part in their lives, and whose tastes had to be seriously considered in arranging the future. They longed for the time to come when doubt would be put at an end; but the Vanburghs seemed in no hurry to appear, and meanwhile April was at hand, and, as was their custom, Mr and Mrs Rendell prepared to leave home on a short holiday, leaving the girls alone to battle with the terrors of spring-cleaning.
Mrs Rendell had strong ideas on the subject of domestic education, and would allow no extra help to be engaged for this yearly upheaval. It was timed to take place in the Easter holidays, and each girl was expected to take a special task in hand, and to bring it to a satisfactory conclusion. She herself frankly confessed that she had come to a time of life when she was thankful to be spared fatigue and discomfort; but her husband was not so willing to make the admission, and talked about his proposed absence in an impersonal fashion, which vastly amused his hearers.
“Mother has had to bear the burden of housekeeping for over twenty years, and I think it quite time that some of you took it off her shoulders. It is good training for girls to learn everything that has to be done in connection with a house, so for your sakes as well as hers I feel it a duty to take her away.” So he spoke, and Nan rolled her eyes at him in mischievous fashion, poking forward her head until her face was but a few inches from his own.
“And—er, what about your own? You do not love the smell of soft soap, do you, dear? I remember last year—”
Her father waved his arms helplessly.
“Everything tasted of it! Soup, fish, puddings, everything one ate seemed saturated with soft soap; and there is something peculiarly depressing about a house with no carpets on the floors. I feel as if I were going to be sold up; and if there is one thing more aggravating than another, it is to be obliged to sit in a fresh room every day, and have all one’s possessions stored carefully out of sight. Now, remember, whoever dusts the books in the library is only to take out a few at a time, and put them back—ex-actly where she found them!”
“Yes, father!”
“No servant is to touch them! I know what that means—every book piled on the floor, and stuffed back into the shelves just as they come! You girls are responsible, and must dust them yourselves.”
“Mine own fair hands shall do the deed—in gloves, however, for I know those books of old, and shall smother myself in sheets before I begin. I don’t object to a few days’ charing for a change,” said Nan briskly. “I love rushing about in an apron, using my muscles instead of my brain, gathering all the ornaments together, and washing them in a nice soapy bath—”
“And watching the water get dirty! Isn’t it lovely?” gushed Agatha enthusiastically. “It isn’t a bit interesting when they are only a little bit soiled. I like figures and things with lots of creases where the dust gets in, and you have to scrub away with a nail-brush, and the water gets black—perfectly black! It’s lovely!”
Every one laughed, even Mrs Rendell, though she felt in duty bound to protest at the idea of anything being “black” in her well-kept house; and the girls proceeded to sing the joys of spring-cleaning with youthful fervour.
“What I like best are the picnic meals,” said Chrissie. “We always have the same things for lunch—a round of cold salt beef and beetroot, and coffee, and bread and jam. It is all put on the table at once, and we all carve for ourselves, and march about the room with aprons on, and behave as badly as we like. Then we have tea about three, and cold meat again for dinner, and fruit instead of pudding, and are all so stiff that we can hardly move, and all fighting to have the first hot bath. The water gets cold after the second, so it’s a great thing to be first, if you can.”
“And there are such amusing contretemps!” said Maud, the good-natured. “There seems to be a special imp of mischief abroad at these times, for something is bound to go wrong. You can’t guard against it, for it is always the last thing you could expect, and it happens at the worst moment, and in some extraordinary manner stops all the wheels of the machinery. It is really excruciatingly funny—”
“You don’t think so at the time! When Agatha knocked a nail into the gas-pipe on Thursday afternoon, when the shops were closed, and all the men had gone off to a beanfeast, you didn’t think it much of a joke then!” said Elsie darkly. “We tried leaving the nail in and smearing the hole with soap, but the gas came out in gusts, and we had to turn it off, and there were only two candles in the house. ... We sat all evening in the dark, and undressed together in one room, because we were obliged to give the servants one of the candles. It wasn’t in the least funny, and you didn’t think so either.”
“Oh, I don’t know! It gave us a rest, which we wanted badly, and it is amusing to think of afterwards. I’ve often thought of it, and laughed to myself,”—and Maud laughed again, the happy, kindly laugh which was the outward sign of a sweet-hearted nature.
Altogether it was a very cheerful little party of workers whom the parents left behind when the hour for departure arrived. It was a bright, inspiriting spring morning, just one of the days when it is delightful to start off on the first holiday of the year, and Mr and Mrs Rendell looked fully appreciative of the fact. He was attired in a new suit, while his wife, not to be outdone, had provided herself with a pretty blue coat and skirt, and a flowered toque which was perhaps a trifle more summery than the season justified. After twenty-five years of married life, it was still a delight to this husband and wife to steal off for a holiday by themselves, and Mrs Rendell took the same delight in her husband’s approval as when she had first become his wife. Every detail of her attire was daintily correct, and so pretty did she look, so trig and smart, that her six big daughters stared at her in admiration.
“Perfectly s–weet!” was Chrissie’s verdict; then her eyes passed on to her handsome, stalwart father, and a twinkle of amusement showed in her eyes. “They both do! And so spick and span—everything new from head to foot. They might be a newly-married couple—a trifle elderly, but ve–ry well preserved! I shouldn’t wonder if people thought they were. How would it be if we hid a little rice?—”
“Happy thought! A most delicate attention. Keep them talking for a few minutes while I pay a visit to the kitchen,” cried Nan, deftly nipping up the roll of umbrellas, and disappearing from the hall, to return with the meekest of meek faces, and bid a fond adieu to the parents for whose confusion she had been planning.
When the carriage drove off, the conspiracy was divulged to the other girls, who fully appreciated the humour of the position, but were unanimously eager to disclaim responsibility.
“I’d give worlds to be there when they open the straps!” cried Agatha. “It will be too killingly funny. They will both jump and get red in the face—father from laughter, and mother from rage. Oh-oh, it’s lovely; but I didn’t do it, remember! I hadn’t a suspicion of it until this minute!”
“I couldn’t have allowed it, if you had consulted me, but I’m glad you didn’t!” Maud declared. “It will be exciting hearing how it comes off. They won’t need rugs or umbrellas in the train, but crossing the Channel mother is sure to feel chilly, as she will never sit in the cabin. Father will settle her comfortably in a chair on deck and proceed to unfasten the rugs. Every one will look on, for there is nothing else to do on board ship but stare at your companions. Then patter, patter, patter, down the rice will fall, and roll along the deck. I can see it all! And the more they blush, the younger they will look; and the angrier and more confused they are, the more natural it will seem. Oh, I do hope and trust it comes off on the steamer!”
“It would be even better in the train!” said Lilias wisely. “If they once get settled in the train to Paris, they would be stuck with the same people for five mortal hours, whether they liked it or not, and they would stare, and stare, and stare. Whatever father and mother said, it would make no difference, for they would think they were only pretending. Oh, Nan, I wouldn’t be you! You will catch it!”
Nan shrugged her shoulders recklessly. “Time works wonders. If they were coming home to-morrow I should tremble; but after ten days’ galumptious holiday it wouldn’t be in human nature to come home and be cross with a poor, hard-working Cinderella. Besides, why should they be vexed? When I’m married you can use as much rice as you like. I don’t mind if I scatter it broadcast wherever I go. I shall just smile back in the people’s faces, and hang on to Adolphus for support. If I can afford a little amusement to my fellow-creatures, I shall not be so selfish as to object; and I must say that for my own part I do adore finding out a bride and bridegroom, and staring at them with all my eyes.”
“I shall never marry; but if I do I shall wear my oldest clothes on my honeymoon, and snap at my husband every time he opens his mouth. That’s the way to manage!” said Christabel with an air, and the two elder girls exchanged smiles of amusement. Neither of them volunteered any information as to how she herself would behave in the circumstances, for the nearer such a possibility becomes, the less easy it is to discuss it in indifferent fashion. Lilias dropped her lids in smiling modesty, and Maud’s eyes shone with a happy glow. She was twenty-three now, and for the last four years a secret hope had dwelt in her heart, and invested the future with charm. It had begun on a certain holiday time, when Jim for the second or third time had brought home his friend Ned Talbot for a visit, and Ned had caught his foot in a rabbit-hole, and sprained it so severely that he was a prisoner at Thurston House for weeks, instead of days. Lilias and Nan were away at school at that time, but Maud had finished her education, and shared with her mother the task of amusing the invalid. She read aloud to him; played on the piano; was demolished at Halma; and, above all, talked to him on one topic after another, growing ever more and more intimate, until at the end of the visit it had seemed as if there was no secret which was held back from Ned Talbot’s knowledge. He had not said so much in return, but there was no sense of chill in his reserve. He was naturally silent, and a word from him meant more than many protestations from another. Maud knew that he enjoyed her society by a hundred indefinable signs; and when they bade each other good-bye, the glance of the dark eyes seemed to speak of a warmer interest than that of friendship. Since then four years had passed by, and twice a year at least Ned had contrived to pay a visit to Waybourne.
Now that the other girls were at home there were no longer opportunities for uninterrupted converse, for, as the eldest daughter of a large household, Maud was often compelled to busy herself with household duties, leaving the charge of entertainment to the younger girls; but she felt sure that Ned understood, and no trace of dissatisfaction clouded her gentle spirit. She calculated happily that four months had passed since his last appearance, and felt her cheeks flush as she remembered Jim’s accounts of a recent prosperous change in his friend’s business. A great step upward had been taken during the last year, and now, for the first time, Talbot was in a position to keep a wife!
This being so, who could tell what might happen next? The hour to which she had looked forward to so long, when Ned would give her a right to love him and to be his helpmeet in life, might be close at hand. Oh, it was a good world, a beautiful world! Life was in its spring, and every opening bud and flower in the green world without seemed to typify the hope in her own heart!
The next few days witnessed a perfect rush of industry. It was no light task to complete the cleaning of so large a house in ten days’ time, but many hands make light work; and while the servants scrubbed and scoured, the girls performed the lighter duties, washing ornaments, polishing pictures, turning faded draperies, sewing on new lengths of fringe, until old bottles were, if not exactly converted into new, at least assured a fresh lease of juvenility. There was always a rush to get the work finished a day or two before the parents’ return, for the time that was over was legally the girls’ own, to be employed in whatsoever manner seemed most pleasing. Christabel stayed in bed to breakfast; Agatha ate apples and read novels all day long; Elsie made copious entries in her diary, and wore her hair in the picturesque confusion which she considered becoming, and felt it cruel of her mother to forbid; Nan worked in her studio, and came down to dinner in a flannel shirt; Lilias wore her best clothes, and went up to town to see and be seen; and Maud dreamt dreams at her ease, without the disturbing consciousness of work undone.
By the end of the week the carpets were cleaned and ready to put down, and it was decided that the drawing-room felting should be laid first of all, because in itself it was a more lengthy task than the mere laying of squares, and also because the after work of arranging pictures and china would be greater here than elsewhere. The three maids shut themselves in the room together for an hour or more, and at the end of the time adjourned in a body to the library, where the young mistresses were busy arranging books. They looked flushed and discouraged, and each of the three had her own comments to make upon the situation. Cook reported that “that there felting wouldn’t come right nohow.” Mary put her hand to her heart, and said her inside ached with dragging the tiresome thing; and bright-eyed Jane smiled cheerfully, and vowed that “she didn’t believe it never would meet no more.” The girls adjourned into the drawing-room to investigate the difficulty, and found the felting neatly fastened at three sides, but steadily refusing to come within inches of the fourth wall.
“Seems as if it’s shrunk itself somehow in the cleaning,” said cook dolefully; but Maud only laughed, and went forward to the rescue in her cheery, capable manner.
“Oh, nonsense, cook! If the cleaning did anything, it would stretch it and make it bigger. It is purposely made rather a tight fit, or it would go into wrinkles, which would never do. It only wants a little coaxing. Nan and Agatha, you have the strongest arms, go over there and pull as hard as you can, while Elsie and I push towards you.”
No sooner said than done. Maud and Elsie went down on their knees, and travelled slowly across the floor, pushing infinitesimal creases before them, while the others pulled and strained to make the most of the advantage thus given. It was a lengthy business, and the crawling operation was repeated several times over before the first ring could be induced to catch over its nail; but when this was done hope began to revive, and the pushing and tugging was carried on with such vigour that presently the last fastening was secured, and the workers rested from their labours, weary, yet triumphant.
“My back!” groaned Elsie, straightening herself with a groan; “it’s broken in two. I feel as if I could never stand erect again.”
“My hands!” groaned Agatha, stretching out her arms, and slowly uncurling ten cramped-up fingers. “They ache. Whew! I never worked so hard in my life. I shall be more careful about spilling crumbs on this carpet in the future, now that I know what it means to have it cleaned. How you ever got it up I can’t think. It must have been even more difficult than putting it down.”
“Broke every nail I ’ave,” said cook concisely. “It’s not woman’s work, and that’s the truth. We ’ad ought to ’ave ’ad a man to do it that ’ad proper tools; but there, it’s done, thank goodness, for another year, and it’s the worst in the house. Them squares is no trouble.”
“No; I think you can manage the squares yourselves; but first of all we will have the furniture brought in here. The house looks so forlorn with the hall blocked up, and if we get one room tidy, we shall feel that we are getting on,” said Maud, who as yet had not risen from the floor, but sat with feet stretched out, gathering resolution to begin work afresh. She stretched out her hands and drew herself slowly along towards the farther side of the room; but scarcely had she moved a couple of feet when she gave an exclamation of dismay, and, stopping short, passed her hand over the surface of the felting.
“Whatever is this? Something sticking up through the felting! Sharp little points, here and there. Dozens of them all about! What can they be?”
The others hastened to the spot, and gazed with horror-stricken eyes at a number of minute molehills showing distinctly in the felting, and each one presenting a sharp point when investigated by the touch.
“It’s nails!” croaked Elsie deeply; and at that cook gave a groan of dismay.
“It is, for sure! Them dratted tacks! Your Mar said we was to put in a tack here and there between the rings, and there was a saucerful just there. Somebody has knocked it over, I expect, and scattered them about the floor.”
Maud looked round with a despairing glance. The accident had happened in the worst possible position, as such accidents are invariably supposed to do, the nails being spilt a couple of yards from the wall, in such a position that two sides of the carpet must be unfastened before they could be removed. She stared at her sisters, and they stared back in a long, sullen silence.
“We can’t do it again, and we sha’n’t!” said Nan recklessly. “Send for a man, and let him break his fingers for a change. I need mine for another purpose.”
“Thursday afternoon, my dear. The shops are shut, and not a man to be had.”
“Never saw anything like it. It always is Thursday afternoon! Put a table over the place then, and leave the tacks where they are. No one will see them.”
“Oh, Nan, as if a table could stay in the same place for a year. Besides, the nails are bound to come out; if we don’t take them away, they’ll work little holes for themselves, and then what would mother say? There’s no use shirking it. The carpet has to come up again, and we shall have to do it.”
“It’s too disgusting! All this time wasted, and now to find ourselves farther back than when we started. I could cry!” protested Elsie dolefully; and Maud gave a little flop of impatience.
“Oh, so could I—howl, if that would do any good; but it won’t, so we might as well stop talking and set to work. Begin at once, Jane, please; we’ll push, and make it as easy as possible.”
The workers crawled wearily back to their posts, while the audience, in the shape of Lilias and Christabel, stood in the doorway and cheered them with derisive comments.
“Amusing contretemps, isn’t it? Reminds one of Maud’s ecstasies the other evening. Quite pleased, aren’t you, Maudie, to have another illustration of the humours of house-cleaning?”
“Never mind, darlings, keep cool! You’ll think it very funny in six months’ time. If you work hard you’ll finish by to-morrow morning!”
The glances cast upon the miscreants in reply to their witticisms were so threatening, that they ran back to the library to stifle their laughter; but five minutes had not elapsed before they were back again, gasping in consternation.
“A caller! Some one at the door! Can’t see properly, but it’s a man! A young man in a frock coat and a tall hat. What shall we do?”
“Send him away, of course. Jane, quick! put on a clean apron, and tell the gentleman that Mrs Rendell is away from home. If he asks for us—we are engaged. Sorry you can’t ask him in, as the house is upset. He’ll see that for himself,” added Maud, in a resigned tone, as Jane hurried from the room. “The hall looks as if it were in the midst of a removal, and if he had had any sense he would have known from the look of the windows that we were not in a fit state to receive callers. Anyhow, he will have to go away now.”
The visitor, however, refused to go away, for, to the consternation of the listeners, the parley at the front door was succeeded by the sound of footsteps picking their way through the piled-up furniture, and Jane’s suggestion of “The library, sir,” was apparently neglected, for the tramp came nearer and nearer to the drawing-room door. Six pairs of hands were raised to smooth six ruffled heads, Maud twitched down her sleeves, Lilias stood in an attitude of graceful attention, and the next moment the door was thrown open, and Ned Talbot’s deep voice called out a greeting.
“May I come in? I refused to be turned away at the door. How does everybody do? You look very busy. I am going to stay and help you.”