"Nothing!" repeats Mrs. Merivale testily. "If you could have seen your face as I saw it, James, you would not talk of 'nothing' in that manner. Besides, you have had these stitches, as you call them, more than once lately, and you ought to have advice. But there! you won't, of course. I never knew any man so care-less about himself—never; and I might just as well talk to the wind for any notice you take of what I say. O, dear me! was ever any woman in this wide world tried and worried as I am?"
"Well, there, there, Mary; don't worry yourself about me," and Mr. Merivale comes up to his wife and kisses her affectionately. "I promise you I will go, only I cannot spare time for the next day or two. But the moment Waymark comes back, we will go together if you like. Now, I can't say more than that, can I?"
His wife looks somewhat consoled, and for her husband's sake she shakes off the anxiety she really feels. With a once-more smiling face she helps him on with his overcoat herself, and stands at the street door until the brougham has driven away. There is not much time for thinking when she gets back into the dining-room, for with a rush like a whirlwind the girls run down the staircase and quickly surround her, each one proffering a different request. Poor Mrs. Merivale! her hands go distractedly to her head at last, and sinking into a chair she cries, "Oh, my dear girls, do run away and leave me now! You promised not to worry me about the tableaux, and if you will persist in doing so I shall be completely prostrated before the evening comes, and then what will you do? You have got poor Miss Denison up there slaving for you, and I am sure she is a host in herself. That's right, run away! Oh, don't slam the door! Now, cook, what is it?" and with a sigh of resignation the unfortunate lady gives her attention to the final arrangements for the supper.
CHAPTER VI.
TABLEAUX VIVANTS.
After a day of rush and bustle for every one in the house alike, the hour of eight, at which the guests have been invited, at length arrives, and whilst Mrs. Merivale receives them herself on the first staircase landing, a man-servant conducts them to the school-room, where they are placed in their seats by two maids dressed in neat black dresses and dainty little lace caps and aprons. These damsels present each guest with the prettiest of programmes, which sets forth a sufficiently attractive list of Tableaux Vivants, finishing up with the information, "At the piano, Miss Denison and Miss Mary Merivale."
These two are already seated at the piano, waiting with exemplary patience for the signal to begin the overture. There have been extensive practisings going on for some time between the two, and now the "ballet music" from Gounod's "Faust" is spread open before them, and Molly is leaning back in her chair gazing abstractedly at the curtain, while Miss Denison is making futile efforts to shield one of the candles which shows a disposition to gutter.
Suddenly the little bell is rung, rousing Molly from her reverie, and the sweet strains of the above-mentioned music soon reduce the audience to a state of quietude and attention.
Molly, thorough musician that she is, plays on with such rapt attention to the music and naught else that a gradually increasing agitation of the curtain at the nearest wing is entirely lost upon her. Quite forgetful of the fact that she is bound to make a precipitate retreat the moment the final chord is struck, in order to swell the number of the children belonging to the lady who resided in the shoe, she plays on until she becomes aware of Miss Denison's voice whispering in her ear "They are ready, Molly, and we must hurry the end of this."
Still Molly only half catches the words, till suddenly Dick, reduced to desperation, puts his head out from behind the curtain, and after making frantic signs to cease, says in an audible whisper, "That's enough, Molly, we're all ready and waiting for you."