Leonore Stubbs Part 13

But who so bold and merry as this elfin Leo an hour afterwards?

"I have brought Mr. Custance in to tea, father. Oh, father, I want you; I have heaps of things to ask you about. I'm always forgetting them, because you are so seldom in at tea. I met Mr. Custance marching off in another direction," continued Leo, looking round, "but I just marched him up here instead,"--and she awaited applause.

It was a masterstroke, and so Sybil p.r.o.nounced it afterwards. "No one but you would have dared, you audacious imp," she shook the strategist by the shoulder. "After that rumpus!"

"It was rather a shame dragging the poor innocent man into the rumpus, and Sue was really hurt," quoth Leo, with a guileless air. "There was nothing for it but to make use of her _permission_, and not only 'see the rector' but haul him along."

She had told herself that nothing would so effectually do away with any fear of self-betrayal on Sue's part, as this easy introduction of a guest never less expected and perhaps never more welcome. She had waylaid the well-known figure from whom she had formerly fled, and her end was attained.

But the general was not to be allowed to interfere with it, and he heard himself forthwith accosted. "Father, I wish you'd tell me; I was out in the woods just now, and a bird was singing----"

"Very wonderful, I'm sure. A bird usually sings in a garret, or a cellar, of course."

"Don't you laugh at me, father; you know about birds, and I don't; and I really do want you to tell me why one should sing, and the others not, at this time of year?"

"Tell you that? _I_ can't. They're made so." But the general did not speak as gruffly as usual, and emboldened, she proceeded.

"Well, but what bird is it that sings--sings just as if it were summer?"

"A robin, of course, you ignorant little thing. Given a bit of suns.h.i.+ne, a robin will sing all the year round."

"Oh," said Leo, profoundly attentive, "all the year round, will he? Why, I wonder?"

"If you come to 'whys' you may 'why' for ever. Why does a swallow build on a housetop and a lark in a meadow? Why does a stork stand on one leg----"

"Oh, and I saw a heron to-day," cried she vivaciously. "Now where did that heron come from?"

"From Lord St. Emeraud's heronry. They often fly over here in the winter."

"What for, father?"

"Bless my soul, Leo, how can I tell you what for? What's all this sudden interest in natural history about? Get a book and read it up,"--and he was turning away, but this was just what he was not to do.

"Can't you sit down and talk to me a little?" quoth Leo, plaintively; "I don't care for those kind of books much. And you could tell me a lot I want to know; about seabirds, for instance. I never can understand how some can swim and some can't. And then there are the birds that go away in the autumn----"

"Stop--stop!"

"And there are the other kinds of birds----"

"Of course there are. What's all this hullabaloo about birds for?" He was half disposed to be pugnacious, but even a fighting-c.o.c.k could hardly have quarrelled with Leonore in this vein. She was so unconscious of giving offence, so friendly and sociable, had such a little smiling way of her own, that even General Boldero was won upon, and, indeed, had never looked so little disagreeable in his life.

Here was a chatterbox certainly, and he had all the dislike of a suspicious, stupid man for chatterboxes. He despised them--with an inkling that they despised him. When he did talk, he wished to lead the talk,--and such was the feeling he inspired in the neighbourhood, that he was gladly allowed to do so. No one cared to put him into ill-humour, since he was only tolerable when bland; furthermore, he was not worth argument and opposition.

Hence it was a new thing to be appealed to for information, and though not qualified to give it, he was the last to suppose as much. About the subject in question he knew just what he could not help knowing, and what Leo herself knew a great deal better,--but her object was attained, and the "hullabaloo" protested against, chained him to her side.

The tea-table was now spread, and he glanced towards it, but quick as lightning she struck in.

"Do let us bring our tea here, father. Just you and me. The others can amuse Mr. Custance, he can't need us too."

"Eh?" said the astonished general. Some one wanted to talk to him, and to him alone? He hardly knew what to do with so flattering an invitation.

But as he was obviously expected to respond to it, he followed to the tea-table, and for a minute awaited his turn in patience. Then, as Leo, having helped herself, returned to the sofa and he was still unattended to, he began to frown.

"Pray, Miss Boldero, am I to have no tea? Take care, what you are about." For, strange to say, he had been unperceived, and Sue, flurried by the sudden demand, and in haste to meet it, contrived to catch the handle of the cream jug in her wide lace sleeve, with the result that her father's caution came too late; the jug overturned, and cream flowed apace.

Had it been milk it would have spread faster and farther, but even as it was, there was a mess displeasing to the eye, and the offender in her endeavours to remedy it, made matters worse. The wet lace swished hither and thither.

"Ugh!" cried the general, retreating with a glance at his trousers.

"Ring the bell--no, here"--and he produced a clean pocket-handkerchief, and unfolded it.

"Well done, father!" piped a clear voice at his side, and a small hand whipped the handkerchief from him, and deftly used it.

"It's you, is it?" quoth the general, actually laughing.

Do what he would, he could not escape from Leo that day. Here she was back at his elbow, and he was not even allowed to hector Sue for her awkwardness and abuse her sleeves, he was withdrawn so swiftly from the scene of action.

"We'll have this little table between us," quoth Leo, planting it handy for him, "and we'll enjoy ourselves, and they can talk to their rector,"--with gleeful a.s.sumption of having secured a superior attraction.

"He is just their sort, but he isn't mine,"--and she peeped slily from under her eyelashes.

"You mischievous puss!" But as she patted the sofa, and he finally sat down, General Boldero felt in a curious way young, and attracted against his will.

Could it really be his own daughter who was thus exerting herself for his entertainment, and his alone? Hitherto, he had never given Leo a thought in the way of desiring her company, and certainly would not have done so now, if let alone,--but since he was not let alone, but was plied with a perfect cross-fire of questions, comments, and what not, while all the time the speaker gave him the whole of her attention, and the full play of her saucy eyes, he was bound to own himself amused.

He was so well amused that he never once glanced towards the rest of the party, nor would Leo do so, lest he should follow suit.

She was, however, nimble-witted, and could contrive for her own purposes. She could stoop to pick up a fallen glove: she could search the carpet for something else which was not there. By these means she learnt that there was no longer a quartet a.s.sembled in a central part of the room; that Maud and Sybil had resumed occupations in distant corners, leaving the visitor to Sue; and that Sue--she longed to look at Sue, but refrained.

Sue sat on in her large armchair, with her back to the light. Her companion's hand rested on the back of the chair.

Seen from Leo's standpoint, the bent shoulders and thin neck were aggressively apparent against the light--for a pale winter sunset lit up the sky without, and the two figures were silhouetted sharply--but Sue?

what did Sue see?

Apparently what satisfied her, what transformed the world around her.

For Leo, rising at last, as all rose, and drawing near with a curiosity which had also in it a great and pa.s.sionate envy, beheld upon her sister's face the look which she sought, the look which she was never to forget. Again her heart cried out, and would not be silenced: "I have lost something that I never had!"

CHAPTER VIII.

A CAT AND MOUSE GAME.

We will now pa.s.s over a period of deadly dulness and unvarying monotony at Boldero Abbey.