“Even so, my dear, they may be useful to us. Worldly wisdom is an ingredient which has been conspicuous by its absence in our family up till now. It is time we made a reform,” said Steve, with a tinge of bitterness in his voice; for it is a heavy burden for a young fellow of twenty-five to find himself saddled with the responsibility of an impecunious young family, and it was difficult to subdue a feeling of resentment as he remembered the careless régime of the past. “When it comes to the final decision you and I must give the casting votes, but it would be an ease to my mind, at least, if a man of the world like Uncle Loftus approved of what we were going to do. Come now, Phil! it would to you too. If the worst came to the worst, and our venture proved a failure, it would be a comfort to you to feel that you had not acted alone.”
“I don’t think anything could comfort me then,” said Philippa sadly. She leant against the table and snapped unconsciously at the air with the scissors. “If it will be any satisfaction to you, Steve, I am glad that they are coming; but, honestly, they won’t alter my decision. I have thought and thought until my brain feels like a jelly, but there seems no way out of the tangle but the one we propose. If Uncle Loftus tries to dissuade me, I shall be obliged to tell him that in this matter I consider my own judgment better than his. How can he decide what is best for us? What does he know of our characters and possibilities? We are not like other families. We may be less amiable and worthy in many respects, but we are cleverer. It isn’t conceited to say so, for it’s true. We have inherited father’s gifts, and ought to be able to do something with our lives. Other girls might be content to stodge along and never see anything of the world, and teach the doctor’s children, and marry the curates, and be as poor as Job all their lives, but—”
“‘But that’s not me nor you!’” quoted Madge vigorously, stopping the machine with the usual jar and snap, and tossing her determined chin with an air of defiance. “I won’t stodge for any one. If fifty aunts and a hundred uncles came and sat in rows round the room, and besought me to be a good little girl and stay where I was, I’d snap my fingers in their faces and tell them that I had to live my own life, and I’d take jolly good care that I lived it in my own way.”
“Madge!”
“Sorry! Didn’t mean to interfere. Thought you might like to know my sentiments—that’s all. Keep me out of the room when the Loftuses are here if you don’t wish them to hear home-truths. I don’t mince my words when I’m roused, as some of you know to your cost I’ll shake hands with them when they come, and say good-bye when they go, and they will say to each other as they drive away, ‘Plain, heavy-looking girl that youngest! They will never be able to do anything with her.’ Ha, ha!” and Madge laughed in a mocking, derisive fashion, which brought an answering flicker of amusement to the anxious faces of her companions. It was evident that she fully expected an hour to come when her relatives would be stupefied to discover the genius of the age in the “plain, heavy-looking girl” whom they had despised, and it said volumes for her attainments that the prospect seemed within range of possibility to more than one of her audience.
Theo, however, had an objection to make. “I think you are very foolish if you do anything of the kind,” she said severely. “We ought to make the best of ourselves, not the worst, if we want them to agree to our plan. They know that we are poor and have lived in the country all our lives, and I suppose they imagine that we are great, awkward, clownish creatures who know nothing about society or how things should be done. I vote we surprise them. Let’s all put on our nicest things, and make the house look its very, very best, and prepare a chic little luncheon, and give them coffee afterwards; and let them see that we don’t require any patronage, and are quite able to take care of ourselves. I’m sure that’s the best plan; isn’t it, Phil?”
“I don’t know, I’m sure. Go your own ways. You want to appear better than you are; Madge wants to appear worse. I’m going to be myself—horribly myself! I don’t feel that I can pretend one bit. It’s all very well for you; you are only standing on the ramparts. I have to go down and fight the battle,” cried poor Philippa dismally, and Hope’s arm stole round her waist with a close, encouraging pressure.
Hope was so sorry for every one in turn that she had no time to be sorry for herself. “It will soon be over,” she whispered fondly. “Cheer up, Phil! By this time to-morrow they will have come and gone.”