Susie had never been so much made of, so watched over and attended to, all her life.
She did not quite know what to make of it all. First there was John arriving like a whirlwind, rushing upstairs to pack up his things, telling her he was going away at once, with Elly following, wistful, not quite understanding, it seemed, yet full of suppressed excitement. Susie suspected how it was, though she had not been told, and she had all a young woman’s interest in her brother’s love-story, and did not see any incompatibility as Percy and Mrs. Egerton did, but thought it very natural, as they had known each other all their lives. She was too kind to question Elly when she came into the parlour while John rushed upstairs. The girl it was evident was much excited, sitting down one moment, getting up again, turning over the books on the table, looking out of the window, distracted, and not knowing what to do with herself, listening to the sound of his movements upstairs. Susie felt that he must be throwing his things into his portmanteau in the most dreadful confusion, and longed to run up and pack them for him, but did not venture to leave her visitor, or indeed to interfere. And it was not till some time had passed, and the tramping overhead became more and more lively, as if John was stamping upon his portmanteau to get it to close (which was exactly what he was doing) that Susie took it upon her to inquire.
‘I wonder why he is going away in such a hurry. Do you know, Miss Spencer, if he has had any telegram, any news?—if he is wanted at the office?’
‘Oh, Susie,’ said Elly, bursting forth all at once, ‘don’t call me Miss Spencer. I’m going to marry him as soon as we can; and it is because of that and Aunt Mary that he is going away.’
‘Because of that; but I should have thought—’ Here Susie paused in some perplexity, and looked her young companion in the face.
‘You should have thought he would have stayed longer, instead of hurrying away? Oh, so should I! but boys understand each other, it appears, just as you and I would do. It was Percy who said something to him. Percy is not a bit clever; and it was slangy and only half intelligible to me. “There are some things a fellow can do, and some he can’t,” that was all Percy said; and Jack just jumped up as if he had been stung and darted away. Aunt Mary was scolding, indeed,’ said Elly, glad of the opportunity of unburdening herself; ‘but what of that? she would have come round in time.’
‘Perhaps he thought they did not like it,’ Susie said.
‘What of that?’ said Elly, ‘when I tell you they would have come round in time!’ Then she cried, ‘Oh, forgive me, Susie, if I am not civil. I am so mixed up! So happy one moment, and then so perplexed, and not knowing anything about it. I thought I had it all in my own hands. So I have, with a little time. Papa never resists me long, and as for Aunt Mary, she was coming round even when she was making the most fuss. When all at once this thing happens between the boys, and Jack pays no more attention to me.’
With this she began to cry a little, merely by way of distraction to fill up the time, for Elly was not at all given to crying. There was a sound in the midst of it as if John were coming downstairs, and then Elly immediately cried, ‘Hush!’ as if Susie had been the guilty person, and dried her eyes. But John did not come downstairs. He was still to be heard stamping and moving about overhead. And presently Elly resumed.
‘He must be making a dreadful mess of his things,’ she said, with a tone of resignation. ‘So does Dick when he packs for himself, but Percy never. Percy is always neat—and yet to think it was he who said that!’ There was again a little pause, both listening to every sound upstairs, Susie, puzzled and disturbed, not knowing what to say, while Elly, altogether absorbed in this new relationship, which was at once authoritative and subject, could neither think nor speak of anything but Jack. There was not much of the confused rapture of a newly-developed love about her. Even at the first moment there had been something of the familiar sway of a sister in Elly’s treatment of John, and now she was anxious, bewildered, not knowing what to make of him, feeling that he had gone out of her ken into a region influenced by a man’s motives, not a woman’s, which are different. Elly gave presently a glance at the clock, and took out her watch and compared it, then gave a sigh of relief. ‘He is too late,’ she said, ‘thank goodness, for this train. He must wait till night now,’ whereupon she became more composed, and her excitement calmed down.