The Story Book Girls Part 57

"You are to be married to me in the autumn," said he.

Adelaide Maud cogitated.

"Well, failing a real proposal, a command of this sort may take its place. I shall endeavour to be ready for you in the autumn."

"They are the funniest pair," said Jean; "Helen is so cool and Cuthbert so domineering! And I used to be so stuck on engagements," she sighed.

All the girls were in Elma's room, where Isobel tried on some of her finery. Elma lay on the couch at the window. She had had her trip with Mr. and Mrs. Leighton, and had come home with some colour and a good deal more vitality. Yet still there was much to be desired. Dr.

Merryweather thundered out advice about the wedding.

"She is not to be excited," he kept hammering at every one. Elma felt a culprit in this respect. Nothing excited her except the one fact which evidently could not be altered. She had sent an invitation to Mr.

Symington which he had not acknowledged in any shape or form. It seemed so ignominious. One could imagine that rather splendid and cultured person saying, "Oh, these young Leightons again! Don't trouble me with their children's weddings," or something to that effect. She grew cold as she thought of what Mabel's disgust would be when she heard of the flag she had held out (what more definite signal to "come on" could any one have given;) and of his utter disregard of that mild overture. She grew more and more troubled about it. So much so that Mrs. Leighton remarked to her husband as each list of acceptances came from home, and no word of Mr. Symington, "I believe that child is moping because he does not answer."

Mr. Leighton was all for the righting that time would accomplish. "She may forget this, whatever it is, in a day," said he. He said to Elma, however, "I hear Symington was asked. Shouldn't wonder if he were so far away that he hasn't had the letter."

That possibility gladdened her heart immediately. Perhaps after all he had not yet made his slighting remarks about the Leighton children. The Clutterbucks also were abroad, so that there seemed no chance of any of the connection being present.

Elma finally came home, and they had reached the Sat.u.r.day afternoon before the wedding on the following Tuesday. A very finished example of the London girl had appeared as Isobel's first bridesmaid, and everybody was chatting incontinently. Jean ran on with her own views of things, since she usually found these of more interest than anything else.

"I feel now as though I wouldn't be engaged for a ransom," she said. "I think of all the men we know and how nice they are, but I don't want to be married to them."

"I should hope not," said Isobel. "Why should you!"

"All right, Isobel, I won't poach. But I'd rather give a concert than have a wedding."

It was her latest desire to give a concert in the Bechstein or Eolian Hall, when her voice was "ripe." She had even consulted an agent.

"If only papa would see it," she said, "it would cost 60, but I should get it all back again."

"Oh, one of these private concerts," said the London girl.

"Yes," broke in Mabel. "Where you pay 60 to an agent and he looks after everything including the people with whom you appear. You fill one part of the hall with your friends, and they fill up the rest. Free tickets, you know. Then each portion applauds like mad whatever you do.

It all depends on who has most friends who gets the most encores. It is the duty of the rival crowd to remain silent when their own friend isn't performing."

"Oh, Mabel," said Jean.

"It's true," said the London girl. "And if a critic comes you treasure him, oh! you treasure him! There are seats and seats waiting for critics. This one poor man puts it as neatly as he can, Miss So-and-So sang "agreeably," then he rushes off to the most adjacent hall, and does the same for the next aspirant to musical honours."

"And you immediately buy a book for press cuttings," quoth Isobel.

"And only that poor one goes in."

"You are the most depressing crowd I ever met," said Jean despairingly.

"That's not all," said the London girl. "After paying for the other performers, you may happen to find that they have already paid the agent in order to appear with you."

"Oh, I believe a lot, but I won't believe that," said Jean.

"You may just as well," said the London girl, "because it happened to me. And it's very good business for the agent."

"Oh dear," cried Jean. "Do be silent about it then. With you in the house, do you think my father would ever allow me to give that concert."

"I sincerely hope he won't," said the London girl heartily.

Betty sat looking very glum.

"Why we should all be here discussing Jean's career, when there are far more important things to think about, I can't imagine. Jean, you might stop talking of your own affairs for once and help with Isobel's.

Here's another box to be opened."

Jean stood pulling at the string.

"Still," she said obstinately, "if you have a voice and a fine method, and a man behind you like Slavska----"

"Oh, put her out," wailed Betty.

A chorus of "Put her out" ensued. Cuthbert, coming in in the midst of this, without asking for particulars, took Jean in his arms, and carried her off.

"I think it's perfectly miraculous the strength that comes to engaged people," said Betty simply. "Cuthbert couldn't have moved Jean a few weeks ago."

They both returned at that moment, looking warm but satisfied.

"The pater is growling downstairs that he can't get one of you to play to him nowadays," said Cuthbert. "There are to be no more weddings he says."

"Oh, there never is to be no more anything," wailed Betty. "And I'm only half grown up. You've exhausted papa before one of you have done anything."

"Well, let Jean go and rehea.r.s.e her concert," remarked Isobel calmly.

"I require a good accompanist," said Jean.

Elma had been looking out at the window. She heard the gate open, to four minor notes, containing the augmented fourth of the opening to the Berlioz "King of Thule," which they all loved. Somebody had said "Oil that gate," and Mr. Leighton had objected because it reminded him of the "King of Thule." When Elma heard the magic notes, and looked out at the window, she could have dispensed with minor intervals for the rest of her existence.

Mr. Symington was coming up the drive.

Oh, Love of our Lives, and now this! She could at last recover from typhoid fever.

"I don't think any of you need go down to papa," said she. "There's an old johnny come to see him."

The bell rang at that moment.

Cuthbert approached her.

"I should fancy," said he, "that with all the good training you have had from Miss Grace, you would have known better than to talk of old johnnies. Who's the josser, anyway?"

"Cuthbert, my darling boy, you are just a little bit vulgar. Cuthbert, I've never been so happy in my life as I am at the present moment."

"So long as you don't weep about it, I don't mind," said Cuthbert.

Elma got up. "I think I could dance," said she.