He received his own present very graciously—a curious collection of oddments it seemed to the unlearned; but he had marked what he wanted in a catalogue, and his sister had obediently bought as directed. Contrite wheels, eccentrics, female screws, and so on, were darkness to her mind, but pure joy to the recipient.
Her gift to her mother—a pair of really nice gloves—was also accepted graciously, though with an absence of enthusiasm which led Virginia to suspect that other things, besides the winter coat, had been purchased that morning at Baxter's sale. Who could have sent money to her mother? She could think of nobody; for the men friends who had hovered continually about Lissendean had never penetrated to Laburnum Villa. Mamma, however, made no confidence, and could not, of course, be questioned.
It came to be time for Mrs. Brown to depart. Mamma had no silver, and asked Virgie to pay her off. The young housekeeper then felt at liberty to go and survey her kitchen premises, and to heave deep sighs at the sight of so many dirty pots and pans, and the inevitable brown patch burnt upon the enamel of her favourite milk-saucepan.
CHAPTER IV
THE TWO VIRGINIAS
"But hadst thou—Oh, with that same perfect face,
And perfect eyes, and more than perfect mouth,
And that same voice my soul hears, as a bird
The fowler's note, and follows to the snare!—
Hadst thou, with these the same, but brought a mind!"
—R. Browning.
Nobody who saw Virginia next morning, in her blue linen overall, bringing up her mother's early morning tea, would have recognised the dainty flower of luxury who had moved over the polished floors of the galleries of Hertford House. She put the tray beside the bed, drew back the curtains, and brought in the hot water, just as a housemaid might have done. Mrs. Mynors, rosy and beautiful among her pillows, rubbed her sleepy eyes, and murmured "Thank you, dear one!" in a perfunctory manner, stretching her white arms luxuriously, and adding fretfully: "Another grilling day!"
Virginia returned no answer to this comment, but withdrew to the kitchen, where Tony sat munching his fried bread and bacon and drinking his coffee with a schoolboy's appetite. When he had been despatched, clean and ready for his day's work, there was Pansy's breakfast to be thought of. Dainty toast, fresh tea, a spoonful of jam, were arranged on a pretty tray and carried upstairs. Then Virginia was at leisure to sit down for a few minutes, drink what was left of the coffee in Tony's pot, and eat some bread-and-butter. In truth she had little appetite. The heat sapped her strength, and she reflected sadly that it was a mistake to go away.
A holiday made it harder to begin again.