CHAPTER VI

JULIET IS INSPECTED

"MOTHER, do you think it can be anyone belonging to us?" asked Juliet eagerly, when she had told of her meeting with the unknown clergyman that afternoon, and the question he had put to her.

"Oh no, dear! Tracy is not an uncommon name. And yet—it is very strange—your father had a brother who went to Australia; but he has been dead for years—at least, it was always believed that he was dead."

"But it was a mistake—it was a mistake, and he has come back to claim us as his next of kin!" cried Juliet excitedly. "Oh, that's so, I am sure! Of course he is rich, and I shall not need to be a governess—"

"My dear child, how you talk! You quite bewilder me! You forget what a big place Australia is. There may be hundreds of Tracys there. And your father always believed his brother to be dead. To be sure, he went off in a huff, and perhaps wished his relatives to think him dead. His name was Ralph. There were only the two children—your father and he. They were early left orphans, and were brought up by their grandfather. I believe there was some jealousy between them. At any rate, there was a quarrel, and Ralph took himself off; but I never heard the particulars. Your father did not care to speak about it."

"Oh, mother, I can't help thinking that it is my uncle who has returned! How I wish he would make haste and look us up! I could snap my fingers at Hannah and Salome if I had a rich uncle to defend me."

"Juliet! What a way to speak! You really are a very naughty girl."

"Just so. Quite incorrigible. I shall consider it my duty to inform Mrs. Campbell that I shall not make an exemplary instructor of youth."

Mrs. Tracy glanced quickly at Juliet. She caught a gleam of mischief in her eyes that caused her some misgivings. How would the child behave on the morrow? But she took no notice of Juliet's words. She wished to avoid all reference to the interview arranged for the morrow. She was fearful lest anything should be said that might throw Juliet into an intractable mood. So she did not attempt to check the girl, when she presently launched out into glowing descriptions of what their life might become on the advent of the rich uncle. Castle-building is undeniably an amusing diversion, and we learn soon enough the unsubstantial nature of the airy structures we rear.

Juliet's mood had changed by the next morning. She had no longer any hope of something wonderful happening to brighten the horizon of her future. Her spirit rebelled more than ever at the thought of the hated inspection to which she was to be subjected in the afternoon. She was petulant and irritable in her speech, looked at times very cross, and at others exhibited a mischievous glee accompanied by that wicked gleam in the violet eyes which had already caused her mother uneasiness.

"You will be careful to dress yourself neatly," said Salome to her, when she was about to prepare for her visit. "So much depends upon the first impression."

"You need not be afraid," returned Juliet, with sparkling eyes, "I mean to be very careful as to the impression I make."

There was little fault to be found with her appearance when she came down a few minutes later. To her mother's eyes she had never looked prettier. Salome scrutinised her carefully from head to foot; but gloves, boots, gown, all were neat. Salome's disapproving glance fell on the unruly locks which showed in soft, flossy confusion beneath the wide Leghorn hat which so charmingly became the fair, young face.

"Can't you make your hair a little tidier?" she asked. "It seems frizzier than ever to-day."

"No, I can't," said Juliet, giving her head a shake which made the wayward golden curls stand out farther from her brow than before. "My hair is just part of myself, and I cannot alter it. Most people find my golden locks admirable."

"There, you look very nice, dear!" said her mother fondly. "Run away now; you must not keep Hannah waiting, or you will miss the train."

Mrs. Tracy and Salome stood side by side at the window and watched Hannah and Juliet as they walked to the gate.

"She does not look much fit to be a governess, does she?" remarked Salome.

"No, indeed, poor dear!" responded Mrs. Tracy, with feeling. "You look much more suited for it," she added, not without a touch of satire.

But Salome was unconscious of the satire. She received her mother's words as complimentary. She prided herself on the extreme simplicity of her dress, and the contrast it presented to the general mode. She liked to think that she was not as other women. To her the word fashionable appeared quite synonymous with sinful. She believed the attitude she maintained towards the world and its fashions to be indicative of a superior mind and character. It cost her no self-denial to refrain from wearing pretty things, for she had little taste for these; nor did it pain her to be considered odd. She had her reward in many a glow of self-esteem, many a proud, complacent reflection upon her own heroic, martyr-like fortitude.

Juliet had little to say, as she and her sister walked to the railway station. She responded so briefly to the remarks made by Hannah that the latter concluded she was "sulky."

As soon as they had taken their places in the train, Hannah, who had a horror of wasting time, unrolled a copy of the "Educational Times," with which she had provided herself for this opportunity, and read intently till the train stopped at Hampstead station. Once or twice she glanced at Juliet, who had seated herself at the farther end of the compartment, which they had to themselves. Juliet appeared to be absorbed in contemplating her gloves. Hannah was shortsighted, and she failed to see that Juliet's right hand held a tiny penknife, with which she was carefully opening the seams of the glove on her other hand just at the tips of the fingers. Nor did she observe that Juliet afterwards gave some attention to her boots.

The house for which they were bound was at some little distance from the station, and Hannah experienced difficulty in finding the way. She was anxious to be punctual to the hour Mrs. Campbell had named, and as she hurried along, she gave little heed to Juliet; but she was aware that whilst she was growing worried and impatient, Juliet's mood had taken the reverse change. Her sulkiness had vanished. She took an amiable interest in her sister's perplexities, spoke brightly, and even made humorous observations on the persons and places they passed—a sure sign she was in a good humour. Hannah marvelled, but congratulated herself on the transition.

They reached the house very little behind time. As she stood on the doorstep and rang the bell, Hannah turned to make a critical survey of Juliet.

"Why, Juliet," she exclaimed, in a tone of dismay, "there's a button gone from the front of your frock! How very careless of you to come out like that!"

"So there is!" said Juliet. "And it has not been off long," she added, raising her hands to the spot where the loose threads hung, and examining it with an air of scientific interest. The action brought her gloves full into Hannah's view, and she exclaimed in horror as she saw their condition—

"Juliet, how could you put on such gloves? I declare there is every finger showing! They are perfectly disgraceful."

"Now you mention it, they do look rather bad," said Juliet, as though the idea would not have occurred to her unprompted.

"Bad!" The opening of the door cut short Hannah's indignant utterance. There was no help for it; retreat was impossible now. Hannah had to compose herself as best she could, ask for Mrs. Campbell, and follow the neat parlour-maid across the hall to the drawing-room, with a mortifying conviction that the coming interview must prove a failure. What had her mother and Salome been about, not to see that Juliet started properly equipped?

"My dear Juliet, do sit with your back to the light, and keep your hands out of sight as much as possible," Hannah admonished her when the servant had left them to themselves.

"Really, Hannah, I don't think that would be fair to Mrs. Campbell," Juliet replied, with provoking, gravity. "I came here that she might inspect me, and she has a right to see me in the best light."

She seated herself as she spoke opposite to a window with her feet well exposed to view. With fresh consternation, Hannah perceived that two buttons were missing from her left boot.

"Dear me," said Juliet, as Hannah pointed it out, "it is strange how buttons will sometimes come off!"

Before Hannah could say another word, Mrs. Campbell entered the room. No woman could bear herself with more dignity and self-possession than Hannah was wont to display; but now her usual self-possession deserted her. Her sense of shame at the appearance Juliet presented made her nervous and almost shy. She half suspected that Juliet had deliberately planned to discomfort her thus, and she was in absolute dread as to how her young sister might comport herself during the interview. What could she venture to say, whilst Juliet sat by with that mischievous light in her eyes, and that innocent—all too innocent—expression of the rosy mouth, the meaning of which Hannah knew but too well? Never had she felt herself in a more uneasy position.

Mrs. Campbell was a graceful little woman with pleasant manners. Her blue eyes had a very keen, alert expression, and Hannah felt sure that she took in at the first glance the glaring defects of Juliet's attire.

"I could have sunk through the floor with shame," she said afterwards, when describing her sensations to Salome.

Mrs. Campbell's glance softened as it rested on Juliet's pretty, childish face.

"This is surely not the sister of whom Miss Tucker wrote to me," she said, turning to Hannah. "She looks far too young to be a governess."

"She is neatly twenty," replied Hannah.

"Indeed! I should hardly have thought you were seventeen," she said, looking with a smile at Juliet. "Are you fond of children?"

"No, I am not," said Juliet frankly. "To be sure, I never have had much to do with them, for I am the youngest at home; but I do not think I should like them."

"That is unfortunate," said Mrs. Campbell, looking puzzled; "then what made you think you would like to teach?"

"I don't think it," replied Juliet; "I must tell you candidly that I hate the idea, and I do not think that I am in the least fitted to be a teacher. It is my sisters who wish me to be a governess. They think I ought to earn money."

Hannah flushed crimson. "Juliet," she protested, "you are not fair to us in putting the case so. We are anxious that Juliet should find something to do," she explained, "because we are sure she would be happier if she had regular occupation. Of course I do not mean you to understand that it is not of importance to us that she should help to maintain herself, but I am sure our main desire is for her good."

"Certainly, certainly. You are quite right. It is well for girls to have something definite to do," said Mrs. Campbell. She could sympathise with the elder sister in her embarrassment, but Juliet had still more of her sympathy. She was charmed by the girl's prettiness and amused at her audacity; but, as a governess, she put her out of the question at once. "Still, I think it a mistake to try to force inclination," she continued. "If your sister has no fancy for teaching, would it not be better for her to try something else? I am strongly of opinion that no one should attempt to teach who does not feel a true vocation for it. Now I must own that my little girls are so high-spirited and so little disposed to learn, that I should feel afraid to entrust them to one who did not truly love children, and feel some enthusiasm in teaching them."

"Of course; I can quite understand that after what has passed you could not feel otherwise," said Hannah, rising to go.

But at that moment a servant entered with tea, and Mrs. Campbell gently insisted that her visitors must take some ere they went away. Each would gladly have gone at once. Juliet's momentary sense of triumph was past, and she was feeling ashamed of the part she had played. She felt that she had acted meanly by Hannah. Moreover, her self-respect was sorely wounded, and her cheeks burned with shame as she was obliged to display her very untidy gloves, whilst Mrs. Campbell, with charming courtesy, waited on her and supplied her with tea and cake. For Juliet had the instincts of a lady, although she had chosen to act in defiance of them that afternoon.

Hannah said nothing for some minutes after they had left Mrs. Campbell's house. She was feeling so indignant that she hardly dared trust herself to speak.

"You need not fear, Juliet, that I shall ever come on such an expedition with you again," she said at last, bitterly. "This is the first, and it shall also be the last."

"So much the better," replied Juliet, with affected cheerfulness.

"You might have told me," continued Hannah, "that you meant to make it impossible for Mrs. Campbell to engage you. You need not have placed me in such a humiliating position."

"I said nothing but what you knew perfectly well before," returned Juliet. "I thought it right to be candid."

"I never knew before that you disliked children," said Hannah. "I have seen you play with the little Hayeses as if you were quite fond of them. You have thrown away an excellent chance. I believe Mrs. Campbell was inclined to like you."

"So are most people, except you, Hannah."

"You have no right to speak so, Juliet. I am sure there is nothing I would not do for you; but you must remember that if people wish to be loved they should be loving. When do you try to please me or Salome? You simply delight in vexing us."

"Then I must be a happy mortal, for it seems very easy to vex you," said Juliet.

Hannah attempted no retort to this shaft of satire, and for the rest of the way home they maintained silence. Though she held her head high and affected the utmost indifference, Juliet was feeling rather out of spirits as they came in sight of The Poplars. To her surprise she saw a hansom cab standing at the gate.

"Who can have come?" she asked. Then, clasping her hands in sudden glee, "Oh, if it should be my rich uncle!" she cried, and hurried into the house.

Salome met her in the hall with an air of mild excitement.

"Gently, Juliet," she said; "there is a gentleman in the drawing-room with mother. See, this is his card. I suppose he is some relative."

Juliet glanced at the card and uttered a little cry of ecstasy.

"Mr. Ralph Tracy! It is he! It is my rich uncle!" she cried, and tearing off her gloves and throwing them from her, she hurried to the drawing-room door.

"Stay, Juliet!" exclaimed Salome, as soon as she was aware of her intention. "You must not go in unless mother sends for you."

But she spoke in vain, for Juliet had already opened the door.