The Fortunes of the Farrells Part 6

Ruth looked, and flushed the loveliest of pinks. It seemed almost incredible that Trix was right, yet something very much out of the usual course of events must have happened to excite Mollie so keenly. Her cheeks were burning as though with a fever, the hand resting on the table was actually trembling. "Tell me, Mollie!" she pleaded; and Mollie nodded her head in triumph.

"Uncle Bernard himself! The real, genuine article sitting in solid flesh and blood in our very own study, and I'm the one who brought him here. What do you think of _that_ for an adventure? I saw an aged, aged man a-leaning on a stick, as the poem says, and I went up and asked him if I could help him in any way. I once read about an old man whose nose suddenly began to bleed in an omnibus. He searched for a pocket- handkerchief, but had evidently forgotten to bring one, and the other pa.s.sengers began to smile and t.i.tter, all except one girl, who opened her bag and presented him with a nice clean one of her own. The old man died soon afterwards, and left her a million pounds as a token of grat.i.tude. I think it's just as kind to escort a stranger through a lonely park when he has lost his way! If Uncle Bernard adopts me and gives me a million, I'll treat you both to a nice new hat.--I asked where he was going, and he said to Number 7 Langton Terrace, and I looked at him. And, Ruth, do you know what I thought of? I thought of _you_! He had black eyebrows like yours, and he scowls, as you do (only when you are cross, dear, not when you're in a good temper), and his lips droop like yours, too. I thought, 'I have seen that face before!'

and then I remembered the photographs, and it burst upon me all in a moment. Then he asked me if I knew the Connors, and I said I'd known them for years, and the step-daughters, too, and that they were a charming family, but Mollie was the nicest of all."

"Mollie, you didn't!"

"I did! Why not? It's true, isn't it? When I revealed myself to him, however, he seemed to think that I was rather vain. I must leave it to time to prove the truth of my a.s.sertion."

"You are in earnest? You really mean it? Mollie, what has he come for?

What has made him remember us after all these years? Has something happened that we know nothing about?"

"I can't tell you. There's only one thing certain,--he is very old and ill, and if he wants to see us at all there isn't much time to spare.

He is not at all like the Uncle Bernard mother remembers, but very cross and irritable, and his poor old face looks so miserable that it goes to your heart to see him. I wanted to put my arms round his neck and kiss him, but I would as soon have attempted to embrace a tiger. He snubbed me the whole time. Oh, talk of adventures! _What_ an afternoon I have had!"

"If you met him walking across the park he can't have any luggage, and if he hasn't any luggage he can't intend to sleep here to-night,"

reasoned Ruth thoughtfully. "Perhaps he will just stay to dinner. Pea- soup, cold beef, and apple-pie--that's all there is, and he is accustomed to half a dozen courses, and two men-servants to wait upon him. Poor dear mother will be in despair because she didn't order a fresh joint for to-day. Shall I go to the kitchen and see if there is anything that can be made into a hot dish?"

Mollie pursed up her lips, but, before she had time to reply, the sound of footsteps was heard from without, and Mrs Connor appeared in the doorway, followed by the tall, gaunt figure of Uncle Bernard. The girls rose from their seats as he entered the room, and Ruth and Trix approached him with diffident smiles, while Mrs Connor introduced each by name.

"This is my eldest girl, Ruth; you saw her last when she was a baby in arms. This is Beatrice Connor; she knows you quite well by name, don't you, Trix dear?"

But Mr Farrell betrayed not the faintest interest in Trix or her memories, and barely touched the hand which she extended towards him.

All his attention seemed concentrated on Ruth, as she stood before him with her beautiful, flushed face raised to his own.

"This is Ruth!" he repeated slowly. "She is not at all like her sister.

I am glad that one of your girls takes after her father's family, Mary.

This one is an unmistakable Farrell!"

Mollie turned aside with an expressive grimace.

"I'm cut out already," she told herself. "Ruth's black brows have walked straight into his affections! I might as well resign myself to play second fiddle forthwith."

Mr Farrell accepted an invitation to stay for the family dinner, but it cannot truthfully be said that his presence added to the gaiety of the meal. Mrs Connor was nervous and ill at ease, regretting, as her daughter had foretold, that she had not ordered a hot joint for to-day, and allowed the cold meat to be used on the morrow.

She looked gratefully at Ruth when a small dish of curry made its appearance, in addition to the scanty menu; but Uncle Bernard had spent some years of his life in India, and his ideas of curry evidently differed from those of the plain cook downstairs, for after the first taste he laid down his fork and made no further pretence of eating.

Mr Connor made several attempts to introduce interesting subjects of conversation, but receiving only monosyllabic replies, relapsed in his turn into silence. With every moment that pa.s.sed, the girls felt less able to imagine the reason for the appearance of a visitor who showed so little interest in the affairs of the family; for Mr Farrell asked no questions, paid no attention to the general conversation, and, for the greater part of the time, appeared lost in his own thoughts.

The three little boys alone were unaffected by the general tension, and chattered about their school adventures in their usual noisy fas.h.i.+on.

On another occasion Mrs Connor would have checked them, but anything was better than the dead silence which at one time had threatened the whole table; so she left them unreproved, and Uncle Bernard scowled at them beneath his bushy brows in a manner the reverse of approving.

It happened that Betty occupied the seat immediately opposite the visitor, and it was one of Betty's idiosyncrasies to repeat the grimaces of others with an imitation as faithful as it was unconscious. When, for example, Mollie was speaking, Betty tossed her head, tilted her chin, and arched her brows, to the delight and amus.e.m.e.nt of the family; and now, there she sat--good, kind, most inoffensive of creatures-- drawing her wisps of eyebrows together in a lowering scowl, and twisting her lips into an expression of sour distaste.

The three boys nudged each other and t.i.ttered together, and Mr Farrell looked round to discover the reason of their mirth, and beheld Betty's transformed face peering into his own. His glance of indignation made her flush with what appeared to be conscious guilt, though, in truth, the poor child had no idea of the nature of her offence. Mrs Connor beheld the incident with petrified horror, Ruth registered a determination to lecture Betty out of so dangerous a habit, but warm- hearted Mollie rushed headlong into the breach.

"Uncle Bernard, Betty did not mean to be rude! Please do not think she was intentionally disrespectful. She has a habit of imitating people, without knowing what she is about, and I am afraid we laugh at her for it, because it is so funny to watch; but she would be dreadfully sorry to be rude to anyone, wouldn't you, Betty dear?"

Betty's lips opened to emit a hoa.r.s.e, inarticulate murmur. Uncle Bernard turned his eyes upon Mollie, and said coldly--

"You wish to imply that she was imitating my expressions? Indeed! It is always interesting to know in what light one appears to others. I regret that I failed to catch the likeness."

"Dear Uncle Bernard, shall we go to the drawing-room now? The children use this room to prepare their lessons. We will have coffee in the drawing-room!" cried Mrs Connor eagerly. And the elders filed across the hall, leaving poor Betty reduced to tears of misery, while the boys comforted her by jibes and jeers in true schoolboy fas.h.i.+on.

In the drawing-room a ghastly silence prevailed, broken by fitful efforts of conversation. Mr Farrell had asked that a cab should be ordered by nine o'clock to take him back to his hotel; but, though the time drew nearer and nearer, he still vouchsafed no explanation of the unexpected visit. Surely--surely, before going away he would say something, and not once more disappear into the mist, and let the veil of silence fall around him? The same thought was in every mind, the same wondering antic.i.p.ation; but it was only when the cab was announced and Mr Farrell rose to say good-bye that he appeased their curiosity.

"I came here to-day to make the acquaintance of my nephew's daughters.

I should be glad, Mary, if you would allow them to pay me a visit at the Court. I have arranged to have a lady in residence who will look after them and do what chaperonage is needful. If Monday will suit you, I should like them to arrive on that day."

It sounded more like a command than an invitation, but such as it was it thrilled the listeners with joy. To pay a visit, and above all, to visit the Court, of which they had heard so much, had been the girls'

day-dream for so long that it seemed impossible that it had come at last. Ruth's mind flew at once to considerations of ways and means, and she suffered a moment of agonising suspense before Mrs Connor's eager consent put an end to anxiety.

"Oh, I shall be delighted--delighted! The girls will love it, of all things. How kind of you, dear Uncle Bernard! Ruth! Mollie! Are you not delighted to have such a treat in store?"

"Thank you, Uncle Bernard; I should love to come!" cried Ruth warmly.

"Mollie and I have often said that there is nothing in the world we should enjoy more than paying a visit to the Court. It is most good of you to ask us!"

"And we will try to behave very nicely, and not bother you at all,"

added Mollie, her eyes dancing with happiness. "We are to come on Monday week. And will there be other people, too--other visitors, besides ourselves?"

"Probably," said Uncle Bernard curtly. "There are several important matters to be discussed, into which I cannot enter in a short interview.

I am inviting you--and others--in order that we may talk them over at leisure. A carriage will meet the train arriving at four-twenty. Good- afternoon, Mary. I shall not see you again, as I leave by an early train to-morrow."

Even as he spoke, Mr Farrell made his way towards the door with an air of finality which forbade further questioning. He had waited until the last possible moment before giving his invitation, and, having obtained an acceptance, was evidently determined to take his departure without further delay. Mrs Connor escorted him to the door, her husband helped him into the cab, offered to accompany him to the hotel, was coldly snubbed for his pains, and came back into the house heaving deep sighs of relief.

"Now for my smoke!" he exclaimed, and hurried off to the study, while Mrs Connor was dragged into the drawing-room and subjected to a breathless cross-questioning.

"Matters of importance to discuss! Mother, what can he mean?"

"Other people besides ourselves! Mother, who can they be?"

"How long does he want us to stay?"

"What are we going to do about clothes?"

"That's just exactly what I'm asking myself!" cried Mrs Connor, referring with equal truthfulness to all four questions at once. "It is most awkward, not knowing how long you are expected to stay, or what sort of a party you are to meet; but, in any case, I am afraid you must have some new clothes. I will have a talk with pater, and see what can be done, and you must divide my things between you. I have a few pieces of good lace still, and one or two trinkets which will come in usefully.

I am afraid we cannot manage anything new for evenings; you must make the black dresses do."

Mollie groaned dismally.

"They are so old and shabby! The sleeves look as if they had come out of the Ark. I do so long to be white and fluffy for once. Can't we squeeze out white dresses, mother? I'd do without sugar and jam for a year, if you'll advance the money. Even muslin would be better than nothing, and it would wash, and come in for summer best, and then cut up into curtains, and after that into dusters. Really, if you look at it in the right light, it would be an economy to buy them! I am sure Uncle Bernard would like to see me in white! Now don't you think he would?"

"I'll do what I can, dear--I'll do what I can! I should like you both to look as well as possible. 'Matters of importance!' ... I can't think what matters of importance Uncle Bernard can wish to discuss with children like you. And who are the other guests? And are they also included in the discussion? I don't know of any near relations he has left, except ourselves; but he was even more intimate with his wife's people than his own, and she belonged to a large family. Dear, dear!

It is most awkward to be so much in the dark. I do wish he had been a little more explicit while he was about it."

"Never mind, muv; it makes it all the more exciting. We are going to meet someone, and we don't know whom; and to discuss something, and we don't know what; and to stay, we don't know how long. There's this comfort--we can easily take all our belongings, and still not be overburdened with luggage! Ten days--only ten days before we start! It sounds almost too good to be true. But how will you manage without us, dear little mother?"

"Oh, don't trouble about me, dear! I'll manage beautifully. Old Miss Carter can come in to help me if I get too tired; but, indeed, I shall be so happy to think of you two girls staying at the dear old Court that it will do me as much good as a tonic. Now I will go and talk to pater about money matters. We ought to begin preparations at once."