Peggy busied herself with the arrangement of the tea-tray without glancing in her friend's direction, and with an air of studied carelessness. She herself knew that she had dragged Rob's name into the discussion for no other object than to set Mellicent's ready tongue to work on a subject about which she was longing for information, and she was alarmed lest her intention might be suspected. Mellicent, however, had retained her comfortable obtuseness, and rose to the bait with innocent alacrity.

"Well, I don't know if _you_ call it scholarly to think of nothing in the world but beetles, and grubby little plants that no one ever heard of before; but _I_ call it idiotic. He is worse than Esther, because, after all, schoolboys are human creatures, and sometimes you can't help liking them, though they are so tiresome, but n.o.body could love a beetle! I said so once to Rob, and he snubbed me dreadfully, and talked at me for half an hour. I didn't understand half he said--for it was all in technical beetley language, but it was meant to prove that it was wrong to say anything of the sort, or refuse to see the beauty hidden away in the meanest created thing."

"Quite true! I agree with Rob. He was perfectly right."

"But, Peggy, a beetle! And to care for nothing else! You have no idea what a regular old hermit Rob has become. He is perfectly wrapped up in beetles!" cried Mellicent, with a descriptive elegance of diction, at which her hearer shuddered visibly. "He takes no interest in anything else!"

Peggy smiled, and her head took a complacent tilt.

"That's bad! That will have to be altered. He'll take interest in _me_, my dear, or there'll be trouble! I believe in a man devoting himself to his work, but Rob is too nice to be allowed to bury himself completely. I must rouse him up! A fortnight from now we will meet again, and the treatment will begin. Meanest creatures are all very well in their way, but superior ones demand their own share of attention. Rob always did as I told him, and he will not disappoint me now."

Mellicent gazed at her friend in reflective fashion. She called up before her a picture of Rob's great stooping form, his s.h.a.ggy head, and overhanging brows, and contrasted it mentally with that of the slim little, neat little, prettiest of elf-like figures before her. No, it was not in the least likely that Rob would disappoint Peggy Saville.

"Those dreadful Savilles" had now, as ever, the power of enforcing obedience from their va.s.sals.

"But all the same," she repeated obstinately, "but all the same he would have liked you better if you had been a beetle!"

CHAPTER SIX.

The next morning was devoted to another house-hunting expedition, unsuccessful as its predecessor, while in the afternoon came a fresh excitement, in the shape of a call from Arthur's "chief," accompanied by his wife and daughter. Mr Rob had had a slight acquaintance with Colonel Saville years before, so that the interview lost some of the stiffness incidental to such occasions; and while the two men talked together in one corner of the room, their wives exchanged condolences on the ever-fruitful subject of domestic arrangements, and the three girls cast curious glances at one another in the intervals of conversation.

"I am afraid you must find the weather chilly. Our English springs are very treacherous!" remarked Miss Rollo properly, turning her card-case round and round in her hands, and blinking rapidly with a pair of shy grey eyes, veiled by eyelashes of extraordinary length and silkiness.

As the only child of distinguished parents, Miss Eunice Rollo was a personage of some importance in society; but she appeared much more afraid of the two girls than they were of her, and kept her eyes fixed so persistently on the carpet that Mellicent enjoyed an unusual opportunity of indulging a favourite pastime, and sat braced against the back of her chair, staring stolidly up and down, down and up, until she could have pa.s.sed an examination on the minutest detail of the stranger's appearance and clothing. As for Peggy, she prattled away on the engrossing subjects of sun and rain, while her thoughts went off on an excursion of their own, and busied themselves with criticisms on the new visitor.

"Eunice by name, and Eunice by nature! A more Eunicey creature I never beheld. Grey eyes like Mrs Asplin... I could love her for those alone, but _so_ solemn! I'd like to wake you up, my dear, and make you look more like a real live girl, and less like a marionette. The way that Mellicent stares is disgraceful. She must be made to stop."

Peggy cleared her throat in meaning fashion, met the wide blue eyes and frowned a warning. Any other girl in the world would have understood and obeyed; but Mellicent only gaped the more, raised questioning eyebrows, and even mouthed a dumb inquiry. Peggy screwed up her face into a vicious glare of anger, at which moment, it is needless to say, Eunice seized the opportunity to lift her eyes from the carpet. For one second amazement held her motionless, then she fell to work on the card- case with redoubled zeal, and tilted her hat over her face. Her eyes could not be seen, but her lips were twisted on one side, and her cheeks grew suddenly, mysteriously pink. Was she laughing? Was she angry?

Peggy could not tell, but she felt an intense curiosity to discover, and a dawning suspicion that Eunice was perhaps not quite so "Eunicey" after all.

"It is very nice to come home to the old country again, and to see all our friends. Miss Asplin and I had lessons together for four years, so that, as you may imagine, we have a great deal to talk over now that we have met again," she explained; and Miss Rollo replied with elaborate politeness:

"I can indeed. It must be delightful I hope you will bring Miss Asplin with you, if you come to us on Wednesday. We are having a reception in the evening, with music and tableaux. It will be a crush, I'm afraid, but you may find it amusing. Rosalind Darcy is coming. She has been staying in the country for a week, but she will be back by then, and would like to see you, I'm sure. I hope you will be able to come."

"Oh, I hope so!" The answer came simultaneously from two pairs of lips, and Mellicent drew in her breath with a gasp of pleasure. It was beginning already. What excitement--what joy--what delight! Only the first day of her visit, and behold! an invitation to one of the best- known houses in London, where with her own eyes she should behold those great people of the world whom she had read about, but never, never expected to see. At this rate, Mellicent reflected, she would find herself on intimate terms at Court before the fortnight was concluded; and oh! the joy of returning home and speaking in casual tones about Princes of the Blood, Dukes and Marquises, and Cabinet Ministers, for, the edification of village hearers! Her complacency vented itself in a long postscript to the letter already written to her mother, a postscript of such characteristic nature as delighted that appreciative lady, and which was read aloud with much unction to her husband, and a friend of the family who happened to be paying a call at the time, whereby, as will be seen, certain things came to pa.s.s which would not otherwise have happened.

The prospect of Mrs Rollo's reception was so dazzling as to throw all other experiences into the shade; but the two intervening days were full of excitement, for Peggy was delighted to play "country cousin" for her friend's benefit, and the two girls drove about from one place of interest to another, from early morning until late at night.

Westminster Abbey had, of course, special claims on the affections, and evoked that thrill of mingled awe and patriotism which all true-born Britons must feel on entering that glorious edifice. When the voices of the choristers rang out in the psalms for the morning, Mellicent shed tears on her Prayer-book, and felt icy-cold all the way down her spine, and Peggy's eyes flashed fire, and the rare colour burned in her cheeks.

When the service was over the two girls wandered about together gazing at the monuments, reading the inscriptions which recalled n.o.ble deeds, and exchanging ardent confidences the while.

"I should like to come here every day," said Mellicent softly, "every single day. I should like to be a verger, and spend my life in an abbey. I think I could be awfully good if I lived here always. It makes one feel so small and insignificant, that one wouldn't dare to be selfish, and think one's own happiness so important. I can't believe that it was ever built by men--ordinary common working men. It seems like a mountain--a great, wonderful thing that G.o.d must have made Himself, and given to His people."

Peggy looked at her with bright, astonished eyes.

"You dear thing, what a sweet idea! I feel the same about it; but perhaps, after all, it was better that men _should_ have made it. It must have done _them_ good. One cannot imagine that a workman in such a task could remain 'common.' I have read charming stories about men who have devoted their whole lives to little pieces of carving or ironwork, to be placed in insignificant corners of old Continental cathedrals. It did not trouble them that their work would not be seen; they were so impressed with the spirit of the place that they simply could not endure to do less than their very, very best, and were willing to remain poor all their lives in order to be able to do it. That's fine! That's grand! None of your miserable scamping spirit there. The place made the men, as well as the men the place."

"Yes, yes, that's just what I feel. I'd like to do something for it too, if it were only the dusting," sighed Mellicent, pa.s.sing her finger along a ledge of wood, and pensively regarding the ridge of dust on her light kid gloves. "I a.s.sure you, Peggy, the shivers were running down my back the whole time of that service like a cold-water tap. I was freezing!"

"And I was tingling. Oh, to do something big enough--great enough--to be brought here when I die, and be laid among these fine old heroes!

Isn't it maddening sometimes to be a woman, and feel penned in, in a wretched little body?" Peggy stood still and faced her companion with kindling eyes. "At this moment, my dear, the spirit of Hercules is within me--I feel as if I could lift mountains, and look at _that_."

She held out her hand, staring with intense disfavour at the fragile little wrist. "That's my weapon! If I tried to lift that _bench_, I should sprain my wrist. If I work my brain for several hours on end, I have a sick headache I'm a lion in a cage, dear; a little, miserable, five-foot cage, and it's no use beating at the bars, for I'll never get out;" and Peggy stared miserably at the statue of the "third great Canning" which stood opposite, and sighed her heart out, to think how impossible it seemed that the name of Mariquita Saville would ever be emblazoned by his side.

From the Abbey the sightseers drove to the Academy, where they spent a couple of hours in making their way through the crowded rooms. Mrs Saville and her daughter were unaffectedly interested in the pictures, but Mellicent declared the study of them such a "neck-achey" process that she soon abandoned the effort, and contented herself with criticising the people instead. After living all one's life in provincial parishes where every inhabitant recognised and saluted the vicar's daughter, it was a little bewildering to find oneself surrounded by hundreds of absolutely strange faces; a trifle depressing too, to one-and-twenty, to realise afresh her own countrified appearance, as slim-waisted _elegantes_ floated past in a succession of spring toilettes, each one more fascinating than the last. Mellicent sat down on one of the centre couches and gave herself up to despair.

"My sleeves aren't right, and my neck isn't right, and my back isn't right! My skirt sticks out where it should be flat, and is flat where it ought to stick out. My hat looks like the ark, and my gloves are too big. I ought to be superior like Esther, and not care a bit, but I _do_. I care frightfully. I feel a worm, and as it I'd like to crawl away and hide myself out of sight,"--and Mellicent's fair face clouded over with an expression of such hopeless melancholy, that Peggy, catching sight of it, came forward instantly to discover the reason.

"Tired?" she cried cheerily. "Never mind, we won't be long now, and then we'll drive home, and you shall be tucked up in bed, and have a comfy rest. Sight-seeing _is_ tiring... Which do you like best?"

"The blue, I think, with the lace edgings. The body is so sweet, with all the tiny, lovely little tucks, and the colour would suit my hair,"

said Mellicent plaintively, all unconscious of the open-eyed wonder with which she was regarded.

"What has your hair to do with it, and how _could_ a body be covered with tucks? You are sleepy, dear, and didn't hear what I said. I asked what picture you liked best."

"Oh-h, picture! I thought you meant dresses. I was thinking about the dresses--"

"Mellicent Asplin, I'm shocked at you! You remind me of the visitor to Paris who was asked how she liked the Louvre, and replied that the Bon Marche was cheaper for ribbons. To think that you could sit opposite some of the finest pictures of the year, and find more enjoyment in looking at frocks."

"I haven't enjoyed it at all. I've disenjoyed it horribly. You wouldn't like it yourself, if you saw seven hundred and fifty girls, and each one looked seven hundred times nicer than you did yourself. I detest them all, but I hate the blue one worst! Didn't you see her, Peggy--pale, _pale_ blue, with white lace and--"

"Poor old Mill. Come along, dear, we'll go back to the hotel, and not worry about them any more. You shall come straight to my room, and I'll give you a tonic that will do you good."

"I hate tonics. They taste like rusty spoons. I'm quite well, and don't want it."

"We'll see about that. It's a new brand, warranted to be especially efficacious in the case of young females. It isn't in the least like a rusty spoon, and exercises an exhilarating effect on the spirits. You wait and see."

Peggy looked at her friend, and her eyes twinkled. It was evident that some mystery was in the air, and that the word 'tonic' was used in a figurative rather than a literal sense. Mellicent pondered, hit on the solution of chocolates, and being an inveterate sweet-tooth, found consolation in the prospect. Perhaps Peggy was going to present her with some of the treasures she had brought home from Cannes, in which case there would not only be the enjoyment of the bonbons themselves, but the case would remain as a permanent joy and pride. So fascinating did the idea appear that it was quite a shook to see a long narrow roll emerge from the wardrobe when the crucial hour arrived.

"Here is your tonic," said Peggy. "It has come all the way from India, and was ordered for you a whole year back. I didn't tell you what your present was the other night, for I wanted you to have the fun of opening it yourself. I do like opening my own parcels, don't you, and not knowing what I'm going to see!"

"Oh, I do! I love it!" agreed Mellicent rapturously, taking the roll in her arms, and prodding at it with the end of her fingers. "Peggy, how sweet of you! I know I shall like it... It's very hard, and so narrow... I can't imagine what it can be. Ordered a year ago--that sounds as if it had to be made. Is it--er--ornamental or useful?"

"Oh, useful! very, very useful!" cried Peggy, and chuckled with enjoyment at Mellicent's gallant attempt to hide disappointment beneath a pretence of satisfaction.

"Oh yes, how nice! Useful things are much more--_useful_, aren't they?

I believe it's an umbrella, and yet it's rather thick for that. I can't imagine what it can be."

"Cut the string and look! That's the best way out of the difficulty,"

suggested Peggy; and Mellicent followed her advice, and slowly unrolled the parcel on the bed. Silver paper came first, rolls of silver paper, and a breath of that delicious aromatic perfume which seems an integral part of all Eastern produce, last of all a cardboard cylinder, with something soft and white and gauzy wrapped around it. Mellicent screamed aloud, and jumped about in the middle of the floor.

"It is! It is!" she cried rhapsodically. "It's a dress like yours-- like the one that was burned in the fire, and that I loved so much. But prettier. Oh, Peggy, it's prettier! There are more of the lovely white silk flowers, and the muslin is softer and finer. You wicked, wicked girl, how dare you say it was useful!"

"Because it was true. You can let Carter make it up, and wear it over your white silk at the Rollos' on Thursday, and if _that_ isn't useful, what is, I should like to know? I wish you could have seen your face when I said it was useful. It grew about a yard long."

"I knew it did, though I tried so hard to smile and look pleased. You see, Peg, I have nothing but useful things at home, for we can't afford anything else, and I do so dearly love a taste of luxury now and then.

I simply hate useful presents, and when we get any sent to us they invariably are of that order, for people say to themselves, 'Poor things, they are not at all well off, better send them something that will be _of use_.' And I do a.s.sure you, my dear girl, that the Christmas before last I got four dozen handkerchiefs, and five separate pairs of gloves. Gloves I don't mind, for they are _nicely_ useful; but I nearly spread out all the forty-eight handkerchiefs on the bed, and wept over them with sheer rage that they weren't something else... Oh, you ducky, darling dress! Sha'n't I look nice! Peggy Peggy, I do love you for thinking of it, and giving me such a pleasure. You can't think how I shall enjoy being really well-dressed for once in my life."

"I'm so pleased you are pleased. It's ever so much nicer to give than to receive. When my three French dresses came home, I was in a bad temper for the rest of the day, because the collars were too high and stuck into my chin, and the dressmaker had not carried out all my instructions; but I'm enjoying this as much as you are, and shall feel a reflected glory in your appearance on Thursday. I'm so glad Arthur will be there, for it will be a comfort to see one familiar face among the throng. I wish--"