“Think now!” said Minnie, staring at him with her wide blue eyes. She was like a big baby, Madge reflected—a huge wax doll—just as smooth and pink-and-white and chubby—just as vacant and soulless in expression. “Out with it! Don’t be afraid,” she cried; and the Hermit, thus goaded, ventured a leap in the dark:
“I should say somewhere about thirty.”
Miss Caldecott turned a horrified face towards her friends.
“Well, he doesn’t know how to pay compliments.—Thirty, indeed! I’m only twenty-nine, and in the profession we always knock off at least five years. No, I am not going to retire. I know a trick worth two of that. A few months later there will be another concert—‘first appearance since her marriage’—and a year or two after that a second farewell; but I want to make a big splash with this first one, and it occurred to me the other day that you might help me.” Her eyes wandered round the room until they rested on Madge’s thin face. “You are the one I want. You designed that swell leaflet for your sister’s entertainment. Don’t you think it would be a good chance for you to do one for me now?”
Madge looked at her quizzically. The Charringtons had learned by this time that, in spite of her beaming good-nature, Miss Caldecott was a keen business woman, and that in dealing with her it was necessary to look well after one’s own interests.
“I am not certain that I can undertake any fresh orders just now; I am so busy with my advertisements,” Madge replied grandiloquently, glancing at the table in the window on which lay the roll of the nursery frieze, now approaching completion.
As she had expected, Miss Caldecott insisted upon seeing it, and went into raptures over a spirited rendering of “Hi Diddle, Diddle.” The cat was evidently of Cheshire origin, to judge from its bland and benign expression; the cow was in the act of drawing itself together for the fateful leap, while the moon rolled apprehensive eyes towards it, and the little dog clasped its fore-legs over its heart in an ecstasy of amusement. In the distance a gentlemanly-looking dish was dragging a swooning spoon in its wake. It was very funny, very clever, very original; for Madge, like Theo, had been working at high pressure, and had been inspired to do her best in the hope of paying off a part at least of Barney’s debts, and thereby giving a sop to her troubled conscience.
“I am not quite sure who shall have it, Mason’s or Fearing’s,” she said languidly, mentioning the two largest West End furnishers, in reply to Miss Caldecott’s inquiry as to the destination of the design. “It depends, of course, upon which makes the highest offer.”
She turned her head cautiously to grimace at her sisters, and beheld the Hermit wreathed in smiles, nodding encouragement, waving his hand as if imploring her to keep it up. His delight, contrasted with the baffled expression on Minnie’s chubby face, proved almost too much, for Madge’s composure, but she busied herself with covering up the sketches, and presently returned to her seat, and smiled with bland patronage upon her visitor.
“And now—er—about this concert!”