“Art is long. You find, as do all her disciples, that she demands undivided allegiance. I shall look forward to hearing the result of your labours. Here is your train. You would like the small bag in the carriage, wouldn’t you?”
There was a note in his voice which gave Hope actual pain to hear, and the remembrance of his set white face was not a pleasant one for her to carry away on her journey.
Chapter Fourteen.
Home Again.
The little flat looked bright and cheery when the traveller reached home. A new lampshade had replaced the one which Mary had burned, sixpence-worth of flowers were displayed to the utmost advantage against a background of dried fern, and the three sisters were beaming with joy at the return of their peacemaker. They asked questions steadily for an hour on end, and even then were far from being satisfied; for, though Hope smiled and declared that she had had “a lovely time,” they were vaguely conscious of the difference which she herself felt only too surely. Hitherto home had meant the centre of interest, and its walls had practically bounded the world; now her heart was a wanderer, and at every pause in the conversation roved away to that distant spot where it had found fresh anchorage. Fortunately for the keeping of her secret, the girls were enthusiastic on the subject of the children’s entertainment, and encouragingly sanguine of success. Theo had finished writing the story, and read it aloud after dinner to an appreciative audience, who unanimously decided that she must give her attention to children’s stories forthwith, since nothing more poetically graceful, and at the same time interesting and exciting, could be wished to while away the children’s hour. Hope was humming over the refrain of a chorus, and trying to decide which of two well-known airs would be more suitable, when Madge drew a sheet of paper from a portfolio and held it towards her with conscious pride.
“My share in the Amalgamated Sisters’ Enterprise, Limited! I never like to be out of a good thing, so, though I was not asked, I determined to have a finger in the pie. You will want some sort of advertisement to take round to entertainment agencies, and to distribute among friends. There you are!”
There Hope was indeed, for Madge was never more happy than when she could give full play to her fancy. For years past she had amused herself by designing artistic programmes for the small bazaars and concerts that had taken place at her country home, so that she had experience as well as interest to help her on this occasion. Hope grew quite pink with pleasure and embarrassment as she looked down the sheet and tried to realise that she herself was the performer of whom it spoke.
“Tell me a story!” ran the heading, in quaint, uneven lettering; while immediately underneath came a sketch of two children, a boy and a girl, with hands outstretched as though they were offering the petition. Madge had copied the figures from an old sketch, altering only the dress to suit the occasion; and a dainty little pair they made, most eloquent in their dumb entreaty. Beneath came more lettering, setting forth that Miss Hope Charrington, the children’s entertainer, was prepared to give her charming recitals at Christmas parties, bazaars, or charity gatherings for the sum of two guineas an hour. A waving, ribbon-like border edged the sheet, held up at the corners by four characters dear to the childish heart—the Prince, the Princess, the Fairy, and the Giant.