“Tell poor old Phil,” he wrote, “that she is to have a regular right-down good holiday at last, to be idle and frivolous, and taken up about her clothes like other girls. She’s not had fun enough in her life, and it’s time she had some now. With Evey being at home, surely we can plan something of a change for Phil? We must talk it over when I get back. I have a few pounds by me that I have managed to get together, and I am determined to spend them on her.”
Philippa’s eyes glistened when her mother read aloud her brother’s letter, but though she smiled, her face was a little sad.
“I know what would be best,” said Evelyn, “if only we were sure of Duke’s coming next month! I am to let Mr Gresham know whenever it is quite settled; then he will invite us to Merle, and on the way there, at least we will make it the way there, Duke, and Phil, and I will stay a few days in London, and I shall choose two or three of the prettiest dresses you ever saw, for you, Phil.” But Philippa did not respond to the proposal.
“I count that I have had my holiday,” she said. “I enjoyed the visit to Dorriford exceedingly, and I shall enjoy having Charley more than anything. Don’t ask me to leave home again. Mamma,” with an appeal in her voice that was new to the self-reliant Philippa, “you won’t, will you?”
“Nobody will want you to do anything you don’t like, my dear child,” her mother replied, reassuringly. “That would be a strange use to make of poor Charley’s thoughtfulness.”
And Philippa’s face grew calm again; she could depend upon “mamma.”
“Besides,” said Evelyn, “you needn’t work yourself up about a thing that may not come to pass for ever so long. Duke may not get home till next year. And I think it’s not very nice of you, Phil, to be so lugubrious about a plan I only thought of for your sake. You might understand that I would like to do something to—to make up a little, as it were, for all you went through for me.”
Evelyn’s voice grew tremulous, and her pretty eyes were dewy as she finished speaking. In a moment Philippa was kneeling beside her—her arms flung round her sister in a close embrace.
“Evey dear, you might understand,” she whispered. “Mamma does. I have got nervous about it all. But don’t think me ungrateful. I shall be quite right again soon, and it will be so nice to have Charley at home. He will cheer us up; he always does, and I am sure Duke will get back before Christmas, at the very latest.”
Evelyn kissed her in return, and the little cloud melted. Still Philippa felt very glad when her brother’s arrival brought a diversion and a still stronger certainty that the Wyverston travesty would henceforth be allowed to sleep in peace.