CHAPTER V

A HARD BLOW

TWO or three days after the visit to the Manor, Pippa came to her aunt in the afternoon with an air of delighted mystery upon her small face.

"Aunt Ollie, I've had a real letter without a stamp broughted by the butcher's boy. Now, who 'do' you think it's from?"

Orris looked up from her books.

"Do you want me to read it for you?"

"Please. It's from a grown-up person, because they can't write plain."

Orris took the note from the child's hand. It ran as follows—

"If the Little Elf would like to have a surprise and unearth buried treasure, let her go into the big bedroom at the top of the staircase, and press a little knob in the wall under a picture of a curly-haired dog.

"N.B.*—Lie low, and beware of Snuffy."

* N.B.—nota bene

"Oh, it's my dear Master Jock!" exclaimed Pippa excitedly, beginning to dance up and down on her toes. "I'll go immechately. It's a secret room, Aunt Ollie."

"I think I'd better come with you."

"I think no. I'd like to aventure it myself."

"Well, run along, and if you're too long away, I shall come after you."

Orris was feeling a little worried that day. Pippa's mother was arriving in two days' time, and she felt that she would be rather a discordant element in the house. Mrs. Snow was not very obliging, and though the food was good and they were comfortably lodged, yet the attendance was not what it ought to have been, and Venetia was a most exacting and inconsiderate person. When Orris told Mrs. Snow that she would be arriving, she seemed very discomposed.

"I've had a call from Mrs. Villars this morning; there is letters passing between her and Mrs. Calthrop. I shall be very glad when people who belong here are in their own again. It is altogether too much for me. Such plans and changes are most upsetting."

"What is upsetting you?" asked Orris good-humouredly.

"The least said soonest mended," said Mrs. Snow darkly; "you'll hear soon enough; and maybe this new lady belonging to you had best not hurry to get here."

Orris could get nothing more out of her. But she felt uneasy and anxious. And when Pippa had left her, she leant her elbows on her writing-table and, forgetting her books, gave herself up to meditation.

She was not long left in peace. Peals of childish laughter and flying feet spoke of the coming of Pippa. She dashed in at the door like a whirlwind.

"Oh, Aunt Ollie! I'm laughing right through me; my heart is laughing even—I hear it bump. I found the knob, and it's the lovely, lovely powder-room; and it has china pictures all round it and above to the ceiling, and they all come out of the Bible, and the people are quite ridic'lous, they make me 'roar' with laughing and when I opened the door there was a hijeous old woman with a tall black hat and kind of hairy and beardy all over her face, and she was sitting at a table with a big heap of chocs in front of her to sell. And she winked at me, and said, 'Two chocs for a kiss!' And I thought she might be a fairy witch, so I gave her a tiny kiss on the tip of her chin, and I got two chocs. And then she said, 'Two more if you come and sit on my lap!' And I thought about it, and then I saw a ring on her finger, and it was Master Jock's, so I knowed; and I jumped on his knee, and he squeezed and tickled me; and we screamed, and then we heard somebody coming, and Master Jock put me outside the door quick, and said, 'Don't tell Snuffy'; and there she was, and so I ran away. But isn't he a darling to give me such surprises?"

"I think Mr. Muir is foolish to come here so much," said Orris, with a frown. "Where is he now?"

"In the powder-room. Come and see it, Aunt Ollie."

Orris was tugged to her feet, but she went willingly enough to the powder-room, of which she had heard but not seen. She found Jock there rolling up his disguise. He laughed when he saw her.

"The Elf and I like a bit of fun," he said apologetically. "I promised to show her this room one day, and I had an hour to spare. Do you see these old Dutch tiles? Aren't they quaint? I used to spend part of my Sundays here when I was a youngster. It was considered part of my scriptural education, but did you ever see such comic illustrations? The artist must have had a high sense of humour."

Orris looked at the tiles with interest and admiration. The walls were lined with them from floor to ceiling, but her thoughts took a turn away from them.

"Tea will be in directly," she said; "come downstairs and have some before you go. I want to know about Lady Violet Archer and her daughter."

"They're at Lilac Farm. Came two days ago, but only till they find other quarters."

"They could find lodgings here," said Orris; "there are so many unused bedrooms. How I wish the house was mine! But Mrs. Snow is the drawback. Pippa, darling, run to the nursery. It is your tea-time."

"I'll tell Anita all about this beautiful little room," said Pippa, dancing away.

Then, as they descended the stairs together, Orris said:

"My sister-in-law is joining me here. I am afraid Mrs. Snow does not like it, but Mrs. Calthrop gave me leave to have her."

Jock looked at her queerly.

"I rather wish your sister-in-law would keep away. I like you best alone."

"Mr. Muir!"

"Don't, I beseech you; don't do the 'aughty to me, as Snuffy used to say. Here she is! Oh, dash her! She always catches me."

"Mr. Muir is going to have tea with me, Mrs. Snow," said Orris, with great dignity of manner.

Mrs. Snow stood before them in the hall with folded arms.

"I never let Mr. Muir in this afternoon," she said with icy coldness.

"No, Snuffy: but you can't keep me out of my old home. I'm part and parcel of it, and whoever is here will be haunted by me, so I give you fair warning."

"I shall have to write to Mrs. Calthrop and tell her I can't do my duty to her," said Mrs. Snow, and she retreated.

Orris felt no compunction in giving Jock a cup of tea.

"I can write to Mrs. Calthrop too," she said. "I know she will not object to my asking friends to tea. She said I was to look upon it as a temporary home."

Jock stood on the hearthrug looking round the library with rather dreamy eyes.

"I wish I were a book-lover," he said, "but I learn all my lessons from Nature."

"I think I learn a good deal from books," said Orris gravely, "but I hope I shan't imbibe too much philosophy from some of these dear old men. I don't want to get stony and unimpressed by my surroundings, and, personally, my heart warms to an unconventional impulsive person. That is why Pippa charms me."

"And do include me. I am told that I'm too unconventional for society."

Orris laughed.

"I think you are very audacious to steal in and out of this house as you do. I don't wonder that Mrs. Snow disapproves. How did you get in this afternoon?"

"Through one of the open windows. I am not audacious. I have a right here."

He snapped his lips together like steel. Orris was startled to see the hardness and determination in his face. Then he looked at her and smiled.

"If they shut you and the Elf up in jail, I should get to you," he said.

"We were strangers a week or two ago," Orris remarked quietly.

"We're fast, firm friends now," he said, with a little laugh; "and when once I make friends, I keep them."

Silence fell upon them for a moment.

Jock suddenly broke it.

"Let's pretend, like the children. This is your house and mine. I have come in rather tired after an afternoon's work in the fields. And you're waiting to give me my tea."

"How could we share a house?" said Orris, laughing. "What nonsense you talk!"

"How? By walking into church one day, and coming out man and wife. Nothing easier."

"Oh, Mr. Muir!"

Orris was reduced to speechlessness.

Jock looked at her with a funny shy repentant look.

"There now! See how you precipitate me into speech! But that will happen to us one day, you know. Only, of course, I never do take the proper course, and go slowly. And—don't speak! You'll say we haven't known each other long enough, and a lot of stuff like that! You bowled me over that day when you stood looking at me with a mixture of shocked disapproval and amusement. And you're simply adorable, as you sit there with the sunlight in your hair and your dimples, which will appear in spite of your stern resolve to keep them under."

"I shall go away and leave you if you go on talking like this." Orris spoke very gravely. Her head was raised rather haughtily.

"I'm sorry. Forget my rash speech. I'm desperately in love with you, and if I can't marry you, I shall be a bachelor for the rest of my days. There! That's off my chest. Now we'll talk of other things. I'm not even going to ask you your opinion of me, for fear of hearing something nasty! I've a message from Dunscombe for you. He would like to come up to-morrow morning and give you some help over your Persian MSS."

"I shall be very glad to see him."

Conversation rather languished, but Jock soon took his leave.

"Am I forgiven?" he asked as he took her hand in his.

"Oh, yes," said Orris. "I can see you are not like anyone else. Your time in the Colonies has made you very un-English."

She felt perturbed and breathless, and longed to be alone. When he had gone, she drew her chair to the open window. As a girl in the secluded life with her scholar father she had met very few young men of her own age. Her father's friends were hers. They were all scholars, and had very little interest in women. After his death, her cousin Dugald had come into her life. But beyond a friendly liking for him, she could not go. He proposed to her at various intervals, and after repeated refusals, he had to be content with her cousinly friendship. She had met other men, but none had appealed to her; she had come to think that she was destined for a single life. Sometimes she wondered if her ideals were too high, or her opinion of herself and her requirements too great. She almost laughed now at the thought of this gay, light-hearted, irresponsible young stranger daring to lay siege to her heart.

"Preposterous and absurd!" she muttered to herself. "He was making game of me. I hope he did not think that I took it seriously. But I do dislike his bringing such a subject forward. He could not have been in earnest. I must not see so much of him, and I must keep Pippa away from him. Really, I am rather thankful that Venetia is coming to-morrow. Now, if he were to take a fancy to her, what a charming stepfather he would make to my darling Pippa! I am afraid Venetia would not look at him: farming would be abhorrent to her."

The next afternoon Venetia arrived. She seemed a little distrait and cross, but made a great fuss over Pippa. The child was an affectionate little soul, but was not very demonstrative, and Orris listened rather impatiently to her sister-in-law's talk.

"Haven't you missed me, my pet? Have you forgotten your mummy? Your poor mummy, who has nobody left to love her except her little girl. Come and kiss me again! Tell me you love me. If I thought that Auntie Ollie was stealing your heart from me, I would take you right away!"

"Oh, Venetia, how can you talk so!" Orris said.

"I mean every word. People are unkind, cruel to those who have no money, and are down in their luck. I've been proving the truth of that, visiting round. No one is anxious to receive an impecunious widow, especially if she is at all good-looking. Who have we near us here in the shape of neighbours?"

Orris tried to tell her. Venetia was interested at once in Jock, and told Pippa that she must take her to see him. Then she said:

"Come upstairs, my darling, and I will show you what a sweet silk frock I've bought you. White silk with little roses round neck and sleeves."

"Oh, Venetia! She has so many frocks," expostulated Orris.

Venetia nodded at her, laughing as she left the room with her child. Putting her head in at the door, she said:

"And the bill is coming in to you, Orris. I got it at Gorringe's."

Venetia brought a different atmosphere into the old house at once. She made her presence felt, and she and Mrs. Snow had a good many passages of arms together before many days passed.

A small trap and pony were discovered in the village, and with some little persuasion, Orris had it placed at her sister-in-law's disposal. Dan drove her about in it, and Pippa accompanied her. They were soon friendly with both Jock and Mr. Dunscombe.

The latter came over and gave Orris a good deal of help with her catalogue. Jock did not come to the house so much. He was working on the farm, and it was at his work that Pippa introduced her mother to him. Orris was relieved that he stayed away.

And then, about ten days after Venetia arrived, the thunderbolt fell.

The postman brought a letter to Orris from Mrs. Calthrop.

She read it at breakfast, and she read and re-read it, and did some deep thinking before she spoke to Venetia about it.

It was a lovely sunny morning. Pippa was sitting up, with eager anticipation in her shining face.

"Let's talk plans, mummy. I've thoughted of a lovely one. We'll take the trap and make the pony take us to the sea somewhere, and we'll take our dinner with us. Sangwiches and eggs and sponge cakes, with 'plenty' of jam in the middle. 'And' gingybeer, 'and' mushrooms and cheese!"

Her mother laughed.

"To be taken, and then well shaken, Pips! And then the sea! You ridiculous child, we're nowhere near the sea."

"No, but we can get there, mummy. We've only to go far enough. Because, you know, England is an island, and the sea comes all round it. Did you know that, mummy? Anita told me yesterday."

"Ask your auntie what she's looking so dismal about?" said Venetia languidly.

Orris gave a start and looked up from her letter.

"Have you finished breakfast, Pippa? Could you run out into the garden and pick some flowers for my vase in the library? You were going to do it yesterday, were you not? But it rained."

"So I will," said Pippa cheerfully and unsuspectingly. She danced out of the room, and Orris drew a long breath.

"I want to speak to you, Venetia. I know you haven't been very satisfied with this old house, nor with the attendance you get in it, so perhaps you will not mind. But—we shall have to flit."

"What on earth do you mean?"

Venetia sat up, all attention at once.

"There's a long rigmarole from Mrs. Calthrop saying how heavy her expenses are abroad, and that Mrs. Villars, our Rector's wife, has asked her if she could possibly let the house to some old friends of hers, who will pay very handsomely for it. They are the people I told you about who are now lodging at Lilac Farm. They took a house with an unfortunate history could get no servants to stay with them."

"Oh, I remember. Lady Violet Archer is the woman's name. I met her once in town. Mrs. Calthrop can't turn us out."

"I'm afraid she can. She has offered, of course, to add to my salary in lieu of board and lodging. She says Mrs. Snow could not manage for all of us, and I quite see that she could not. They want to come at once, for Lady Violet is not in good health, and there is not room at the farm for her maid."

"I never heard of such proceedings," said Venetia angrily. "We can't be turned out into the street like dogs. You had better throw up your work and come back to town, Orris. Pippa has recovered her health in a wonderful way. She is fat and rosy, and perfectly untiring in her energy! And I honestly tell you this country will bore me to death. We have no neighbours. Mr. Muir is amusing, but he's a farmer, or wants to make himself into one. And Mr. Dunscombe is a dull bookworm. But Mrs. Calthrop has broken her contract with you. I should make her pay for doing it. You 'must!'"

Orris was silent; she was conning over in her mind the different houses in the village. It would be comparatively easy to find lodgings for herself and Pippa, but Venetia was a different matter. Mrs. Calthrop had suggested lodgings in a farm or cottage, so that she could come to her work daily. Orris felt that this easy happy life of hers had very soon taken wings and flown away.

But she had not much time for thinking, for breakfast was hardly over before Mrs. Snow came in announcing that a lady was in the drawing-room and wished to see her.

"Who is it?" Orris asked.

"Miss Archer," said Mrs. Snow shortly.

In another moment, Orris was shaking hands with a very young pretty girl. She was dressed in rough Harris tweed, with a grey felt hat pulled over her soft brown hair, but everything about her was dainty and fresh, and her complexion like that of a blush rose.

"I have come on 'such' a disagreeable errand," she said; "and I feel you will dislike us very much when you know that Mrs. Calthrop has let this house to mother for some months. But, believe me, it was only this morning that we realized that you were going to be turned out for us. And mother said that I had better come round and explain that it was not our doing. Mrs. Villars has arranged everything with Mrs. Calthrop, and we knew nothing about you until yesterday evening, and then we were talking with Mrs. Preston and she told us."

"My dear Miss Archer, please don't feel uncomfortable about it. This is only a temporary job, and I did not expect to settle down here for good and all. I have felt very sorry for you. I heard about your troubles."

"I wish that we had never come to this part," said the girl ruefully. "It was such a surprising and uncomfortable experience at the Towers. Are you superstitious? Of course, Mrs. Villars laughs at it all, but I wish she would sleep there a few nights, as we did."

"Tell me about it," said Orris sympathetically.

Reyne Archer responded instantly to her interest. She did not seem to have much definite complaint of the Towers beyond queer noises, but she declared the whole atmosphere of the house was eerie and melancholy. And from the unfortunate house, she went on impulsively to confide in Orris a good many of her difficulties in her home life. Orris had a way of inspiring confidence with total strangers. She learnt that Reyne had been dragged about in attendance on an invalid mother from the time she had been fifteen. Lady Violet always spent her winters on the Riviera, and divided her time at home between London and Brighton, and occasional visits to Scotland. Reyne had never been to school; she had a haphazard, desultory education, attending classes at intervals, and having governesses and masters for a few months at a time, and for the last four years had been going out with her mother to the different social functions that came in their way.

"I am so tired of it all," she said, heaving a sigh; "and now the doctors say mother must have rest and quiet in the country. It is so unfortunate that our first venture should prove so disastrous. I don't believe she will be here very long, but she has promised her doctor she will stay quiet in the country all this summer."

"What are your hobbies?" Orris asked. "You must have some."

"Oh," said the girl, with heightened colour, "I want to be of some use in the world. It's all so empty and unsatisfying, going to dances and theatres and at-homes; always seeing the same people, and talking the same kind of talk. I've had it since I was quite a little girl. Mother always took me with her everywhere. I had no proper childhood. And two years ago, in the town, I heard a sermon, and it has altered my whole life. May I tell you about it? You won't laugh?"

"No," said Orris softly; "I shall like to hear."

"It was an unknown preacher in an unknown church. At least, it wasn't a church where many of our sort go—I drifted into it one wet evening. And the text was: 'Where art thou?' He told us of places where we might be, and asked us to catalogue ourselves in one of them. I don't remember all the places. 'In the far country,' was one, 'lost on the mountain,' 'hiding behind fig leaves,' 'standing idle in the market-place,' and then he suggested a change of life and scene to 'in the fold,' 'on the highway of holiness,' and 'in the Lord's hand.'

"I can't tell you how eloquent he was. I came away and went to my room and hunted about till I found a little old Bible that I had given me as a child, and then I prayed, and, oh, I can't explain, but though my outward circumstances haven't altered, my heart has."

She paused, then added hurriedly:

"You will think me quite mad, talking to you like this the first time I see you. I don't know what has made me do it. But you're leading a useful life and your face tells me you understand these things. May I—will you be friendly with me and let me pour out to you sometimes?"

"Certainly I will," said Orris with warmth that surprised herself. She was about to say more, but they were interrupted by Mrs. Snow in the usual way. And after discussing business with that worthy person, Reyne Archer took a hurried leave. But as she was going, she said to Orris:

"May I suggest that if you do want comfortable rooms that you should come to Lilac Farm? Mrs. Preston is such a dear, and she has half-suggested it herself."

"There's nothing I should like better," said Orris, "but we're too large a party. Four in number. She hasn't the rooms. Besides, Mr. Muir is going to occupy her spare room."

"Well, come over and talk to her about it. Do, and I shall see you again."