“Oh, thank you! The best help of all would be to stay and drive down to the station with us. The packing is all done—in a way! But I expect that in our haste we have left lots of things behind, for we worked together, and in such a hurry and confusion that we hardly knew what we were about. Poor Elsie has packed our new garments in the new trunks, and watered them with tears. I expect it will be months before they are opened. We shall have no use for such fineries now.”
“You can never tell what may happen, but if you don’t, there is no cause to grieve. They have served their day, and have given you pleasure. Never mind if you have left some oddments behind; Elsie can send them on. I never have a visitor at the vicarage that I have not to expend my substance posting toothbrushes or sponge-bags or stray garments after their departure.”
Truth to tell, Mrs Thornton was much relieved at being allowed to accompany the girls to the station.
The Vicar’s wife possessed even more than her share of feminine curiosity, and was longing to discover in what fashion Victor Druce said good-bye to Ruth.
He was already waiting in the dining-room when she went down with the girls a few minutes later to partake of some light refreshment before starting on their long journey, and nothing could have been more unobtrusively sympathetic or attentive than the manner in which he waited upon them, anticipating every want, and ministering to it with eager hands. The room itself was so spacious that unconsciously the little party split into groups; and Mrs Thornton found herself tête-à-tête with Jack Melland, obviously in the worst of humours.
“Can you do nothing? Is there nothing you can say to knock a little common-sense into those girls’ heads? It’s the maddest trick, rushing off like this in defiance of the old man’s wishes. What can they do at home—a couple of children like that? They are better out of the way. At any rate, one of them might have stayed—Mollie, for instance—and kept things going here till she saw how things worked out. They have no right to rush off together at a moment’s notice!” he cried irritably; whereat Mrs Thornton smiled involuntarily.
“Isn’t it rather a case of people in glass houses, Mr Melland? You have set a bad example without half the excuse of these dear girls. It seems to me their plain duty to return to their parents when they are in trouble, so I have not attempted to dissuade them in any way.”
“But—” Jack made a slight but eloquent gesture of the head in Victor’s direction. “It’s such a walk over for somebody else! I can’t bear the thought of it. This place ought to belong to one of those girls—it is theirs by rights. It maddens me to see them throwing away their chance, for I’m afraid Mr Farrell will never forgive them for going against his wishes.”
“Don’t be too sure!” returned Mrs Thornton, nodding her head sagely. “Mr Farrell is not half so obstinate as he pretends, and however annoyed he may be to-day he can’t help softening when he remembers that they have put all their own pleasures and self-interests on one side to return to work and worry for their mother’s sake. If he wanted a test of character, surely nothing could be better than this! I don’t think it will be by any means a ‘walk over’ for Mr Druce. My firm belief is, that Ruth and Mollie have as good or even a better chance than they had before.”
“I say,” cried Jack cordially, “you are a brick!” He turned towards her with a bright, boyish smile, which took years off his age. “You don’t know how you have cheered me by saying that! I hated to think of them as being out of the running; but you will rub it in, won’t you? Don’t let Druce have it all his own way! Impress upon the old fellow what you said just now—unselfishness and hard work, and all that sort of thing. You will know how to do it, so as to make him see that he ought to admire the girls more for going than staying.”