CHAPTER V

AN UNPLEASANT EXPERIENCE

THE young people met at breakfast as if nothing had happened between them. Gentian was her bright happy self again; she wanted to drive Jim to the town in her car, but he made the excuse that he was going to write business letters in the library and would prefer not to go out till the afternoon.

Mrs. Wharnecliffe was just going to speak to Gentian when Thorold arrived over. He had come to ask Gentian if she could possibly take the organ the following Sunday.

"Could I do it?" she questioned half-diffidently, half-eagerly.

"If you come to the practice to-night at six o'clock, our organist would be there, and would put you in the way of it; but he has to go away to see a sick relation to-morrow, and will not be back till Monday."

"I'll come. Mr. Paget is here; would you like to see him?"

"I shall be very glad to make his acquaintance. Does he know of the buffer's existence?"

"I've dragged you into every other sentence. I think he thinks you and Mrs. Wharnecliffe are brother and sister, and you mustn't undeceive him."

Then she looked at him sternly.

"I remember now, you told me you wished to see my friend, and the organ is just an excuse. You came on purpose to see him."

"Perhaps I did," said Thorold dryly.

"He is in the library, writing letters. I don't think he wishes to be disturbed."

"Oh, I will fetch him," said Mrs. Wharnecliffe, who had no qualms about interrupting her visitor's occupation.

She was not surprised to find him smoking a cigarette and moodily sitting by the window doing nothing.

"I want you to make acquaintance with Gentian's cousin, Mr. Holt," she said cheerfully. "May I bring him in here?"

"This is your house," the young fellow said, rising hastily from his seat in some confusion; "of course I shall be very glad to see him."

So Thorold was brought in and introduced; and then Mrs. Wharnecliffe went back to Gentian, who did not look very pleased. "Cousin Thorold is very obstinate in doing his own will," she said; "why does he come over to see Jim Paget? Does he want to see if he is a fit friend for me? If he was a gorilla, I should stick up for him if I wanted to. Cousin Thorold couldn't well prevent me."

"Now, Gentian, my dear child, I want you to be frank with me. This Mr. Paget considers you are virtually engaged to him. Is this so? He evidently wants matters to be settled. Is it that you cannot make up your mind? Do you really like him? I want to help you if I can. He says he has known and loved you for five years. You cannot keep a man waiting too long, though I own you are full young yet to marry. He seems to me a nice straightforward man with means of his own and he is very fond of you."

"He has been getting hold of you. I told you the other day what I feel about him. He is too strong-willed for me. I don't know which is worst, he or Cousin Thorold. Of course Cousin Thorold is more reliable, and a little kinder. I saw him pick up a village child and kiss it the other day when it had fallen and hurt itself. Jim would never do that, he would push it out of his way. Jim is going through the world elbowing people right and left—clearing his way, and knocking down everybody and everything that stops his progress. Cousin Thorold looks out for those he can help, but he likes to manage those he helps, and that's where they are alike. Jim likes to manage too. No, it's no good, Mrs. Wharnecliffe, if Jim wants his answer now, I'll give it to him, but I shall be awfully sorry if he goes away in a huff and never sees me again; because I shall have no friend left then; and he has always been as good as a brother to me."

"It is only fair to him that it should be one thing or the other," said Mrs. Wharnecliffe; "if you don't want to marry him, you must not keep him hanging round you."

Gentian was silent. Then she said in an animated tone: "Now I wonder what those two are talking about? May I go and see?"

"I think you had better wait. They will come to us when they want us."

And in a very few minutes Thorold came in. He addressed himself to Gentian.

"The interview has been very satisfactory. I like your friend."

"How kind of you!"

Gentian's tone was non-committal. It might have been sarcasm, or an expression of pleasure.

"But I have told him that you are settling down here for the present, and he must not worry you to go away, if you want to stay here."

"No one will worry me to do anything that I do not want to do," said Gentian calmly.

"Then why the little creases on your brow at present?"

Gentian looked up at him and laughed.

"You make the creases; I always feel my bristles rising when you come near. You think you've got to take care of me and guide my steps, and you want to lock me up in a glass case and keep me there."

"As a precious ornament," said Thorold; "you ought to be flattered. It is only treasures that require guarding."

Then he altered his tone.

"I don't want to make any more creases. They do not suit you, so I'll leave you. If Mr. Paget would like to see the Vicarage this afternoon, my housekeeper will have the keys. I shall be out."

"Thank you. I daresay we may stroll down there."

Mrs. Wharnecliffe walked down the drive with Thorold.

"I really don't understand her one bit," she confided to him; "I am pretty certain she is not in love with this boy, but what she intends to do is past my comprehension. He wants to be definitely engaged to her. I have told her it must be one thing or the other. They have been going on like this for nearly five years. It's my belief she clings to him as to an old friend, and does not want to lose his friendship. She said as much to me."

"He means to settle it to-day," said Thorold. "If she sends him away, we shall have the responsibility of her altogether. I was wishing the other day that she were my daughter. Now I don't know. Girls are difficult to manage."

"Miss Ward will have the charge of her very soon," said Thorold easily; "and I dare say she and this young fellow will settle it up together. He's very fond of her."

Mrs. Wharnecliffe gave a little sigh.

After lunch Jim Paget and Gentian set off for the Vicarage. They were gone nearly three hours, and then Jim returned alone with a very rueful face.

"Where is Gentian?" asked Mrs. Wharnecliffe when she saw him.

"Oh, she's staying on for the organ practice. Mr. Holt's housekeeper is giving her tea. I've been dismissed for good and all, and I think I'll go back to town to-night, if you'll excuse my doing so. There's the 7.30 express."

"I am sorry," said Mrs. Wharnecliffe, and her heart ached for the young fellow, whose face looked haggard and drawn.

"I didn't look for it, and that's a fact!" he said. "After all these years too! I don't believe she knows what she's doing. She's enamoured with her new surroundings here. I wish—if I may say so—that you had never discovered her. If she and Waddy had been alone in London lodgings, she would have turned to me with joy. But she's crazed about this car of hers, and the little house and the organ. She'll find me wanting soon. I shan't give up hope. I shall be utterly silent to her, and perhaps after a time, she'll want to hear of me. I never shall marry anyone else, I know that."

Mrs. Wharnecliffe tried to comfort him. She ordered the car to take him to the station, and felt a little vexed with Gentian; but at the same time her instinct told her that the girl was right, for her heart was not Jim's. It still remained untouched.

When Gentian came in, it was to find that Jim had gone. She looked rather blank when Mrs. Wharnecliffe gave her the news.

"What an awful hurry he was in! I quite meant to wish him good-bye properly and to part friends. But perhaps it is best as it is."

"How did the practice go off?"

"Oh, it was lovely! The organ is a gem, and I found it quite easy to play, and the small boys were such dears, and there's quite an old man who comes with them and sings the deepest bass, and keeps saying: 'We b'aint in 'armony!'"

She gave an animated account of her doings, and seemed to forget Jim. But she was very quiet and pensive at dinner, and went to the piano afterwards, and played such dreary dirges, that at last Mrs. Wharnecliffe begged her to stop.

"It's to mark the burial of my friendship with Jim, and all his hopes and mine. I really feel as if he has died. It is like it to me. He says he will never see me again unless I send for him, and I shall never do that."

"I hope you do not regret having sent him away."

"Of course I do!" she said passionately. "You can't give up a friend without feeling it. You have made me do it. You and he together. I could not marry him, but lots of girls have men friends, and I call him selfish to leave me for ever like this."

"I think you are selfish to accept his love and attentions when you know you do not mean to make him happy."

"I am very, very selfish," said Gentian in a humble tone; "I always have been. But if he was unselfish, he would not wish to force me against my liking to marry him. Shut up with Jim all my life! Oh, I couldn't live! I should die. It would be dreadful!"

Then she slipped her arm through Mrs. Wharnecliffe's with a wistful smile up at her.

"Oh, do love me and be kind to me I have forsaken Jim, for you and Cousin Thorold. Perhaps you would rather I had married him, so as to get rid of me. I feel sure that Cousin Thorold wanted me to do it. But I won't burden you with the care of me. When I get Waddy again, I shall be quite independent, and so busy that I shall have no time to come and see you."

Mrs. Wharnecliffe kissed her.

"My dear Gentian," she said, "I am very glad we are not going to lose you. And I mean to see a great deal of you in the future. I am old-fashioned enough to believe in love matches, and if you don't love a man, don't marry him. That is my advice. I have seen disaster again and again come upon young people, because they married in haste for expediency."

So Jim Paget departed out of Gentian's life, and at the end of a few days, she seemed as if she had forgotten all about him. She was getting quite absorbed in her small house, and when the day came for her to move into it, and Miss Ward was expected to arrive, she was as excited as a child.

Mrs. Wharnecliffe felt a blank in the house when she left her. Gentian made her presence and personality felt wherever she went.

About a week after she moved in, Thorold, taking a morning walk past the house, was confronted by a large white notice board in its front garden facing the road.

"Car for hire. Apply within."

He was standing looking up at it with disapproval stamped upon his face, when Gentian's voice over the hedge surprised him.

"Well, and what do you think of it? I am afraid we are too out of the way for people to see it."

"I don't like it at all," said Thorold gravely.

"What a pity! I am proud of it. I have had two fares already. Every morning I drive into Winderball and go slowly up and down the high street with my notice 'for hire' staring every one in the face. They won't let me stand in the station yard, so that is all I can do, but I took a gentleman to the station yesterday, and the day before I drove a young couple to see an empty house about eight miles out. That was a good stroke of business. I shall get on in spite of your disapproval. I could not stay here if I did not. Don't you want to go and see Mrs. Wharnecliffe and ask her opinion about my notice board? I will run you out this afternoon if you like. The journey there and back will be twenty-two shillings. I cannot take tips, as it is my own car."

"I am afraid you do not tempt me," said Thorold, smiling in spite of himself. "Having a motor-bike and a horse, I am independent of cars."

"Oh, of course, you are what they call complete in yourself. Now, dear Cousin Thorold—"

She changed her tone and began to coax:

"Don't fight me about this board. It means a livelihood for me, and I do not like cross faces and expostulations. All yesterday Miss Ward was telling me you would not like it. And I said to her:

"'Cousin Thorold is a sensible broad-minded man, and very kind at heart!'

"Are you not? We'll say no more about it. Now can you tell me if this is the time to plant roses? I want some badly, and there is a woman called Mrs. Guddings in the village who has a moss rose, and tells me she will give me a root of it."

Thorold succumbed, and the talk veered to roses. The board remained up, and only two days afterwards it brought Gentian business.

She was gardening very busily, and Miss Ward was having her afternoon siesta, when a middle-aged lady appeared at her gate. She seemed in some haste and agitation.

"We've had a breakdown at the bottom of the road, and I want to get to town urgently to see a sister who is ill. We heard from a cottage that there was a car for hire here. Can you lend it to us? I conclude there is a driver."

"I drive my car myself," Gentian said with her greatest dignity. "I will come with you at once."

The lady looked at her in a surprised fashion.

"Can you take a small amount of luggage? I have a niece with me, but we shall be obliged to send our chauffeur back to the town with the car. You look very young. I know girls do drive cars in these days, but have you had much experience?"

"I have done the journey from town here with perfect ease, and know the road well. Would you like to see the car?"

Without waiting for an answer, Gentian led the way to her garage.

The lady looked at the car critically, but appeared satisfied. She asked if Gentian could start at once.

"In five minutes," said Gentian.

"Then I will go back and relieve my niece's mind. It is her mother who is ill, and we have missed the train to town."

Gentian slipped quietly up to her room and got into her motor kit, being careful not to disturb Miss Ward, for she was doubtful as to what that lady would say to this expedition, as it was already late in the afternoon. She left a message with the servant for her, and then drove her car rapidly down the road.

She found the two ladies anxiously awaiting her. Their car was in the ditch, and their chauffeur hard at work trying to get it back into the road.

It was only the work of a few minutes to get her passengers and luggage arranged for the journey, and then Gentian with glowing eyes and cheeks, and a proud consciousness of her own powers, drove steadily along the London road.

The run was made very successfully. Gentian was offered some refreshment at the London house, but she declined, as she was anxious to get back. It was a very sultry evening, and there was every appearance of a storm brewing. She had got well out of London, and was in a very lonely part of the country when the storm burst full upon her. Vivid lightning and peals of thunder rather shook her nerve. It was with a sense of relief that she came to a wayside inn which possessed a garage, and very soon she and her car were taking advantage of the shelter.

The storm was a heavy one, and lasted nearly an hour. Gentian had a dish of eggs and bacon and a cup of tea in the inn parlour, but there were some rough-looking farmers who tramped in and out, and she felt uncomfortable when they persisted in talking to her. One of them asked her to give him a lift. She refused, as she saw he had been drinking freely, and she was very glad when she was able to start again, and get away from them all.

It seemed as if misfortune dogged her steps. She had got a little more than half-way, when suddenly one of her tyres burst. It was now just dark. She was on a road bordered by thick pine woods on each side, and there was not a house within sight. She got out and with the light of her lamp commenced to remedy matters. She had a spare tyre and had been taught how to put one on, but a man had helped her, and she did not seem to have the strength to screw the jack up, to get the tyre off the ground. She exerted all her strength, but the wheel refused to lift. Time went by. She was perilously near tears, and the feeling of helplessness and inability to remedy matters, made her furious with herself.

At last she determined that she must leave her car where it was, and walk on till she could get help from some one. It was at this juncture that she saw a light approaching her. The noise told her that it was a motor-cycle, and she plucked up courage to shout for help. Her surprise was intense to find, the next moment, that the cycle rider was Thorold.

"Oh," she cried. "I am glad to see you!"

He got off his cycle at once, asked what was the matter, and very soon had the burst tyre removed and the new one in its place.

"I thought something must have happened, as you did not turn up, so I came to meet you," he said simply.

There was no word of reproach or "I told you so," and Gentian felt subdued and very grateful. She started her car again, and he drove by her side, till she reached the Vicarage, then he helped her to put her car by, wished her good night, and disappeared, but Gentian felt that she had not heard the last of this late run to town.

Miss Ward with an anxious troubled face met her at the door. Her reproaches and remonstrances continued during Gentian's late supper. She got impatient at last.

"I am tired, Waddy. You should never kick a person when she's down. Good night."

And abruptly she left her and went to bed.