CHAPTER IX
At Miss Grace's
Miss Grace sat crocheting in her white and gold drawing-room and Elmaplayed to her. Then the front door bell rang.
"Oh please, Miss Grace," said Elma with crimson cheeks, "that isAdelaide Maud."
"She isn't coming, I hope, to disturb our afternoons, and your playing,"asked Miss Grace anxiously.
"Oh, Miss Grace, she has eyes like yours and listens mostinterrogatively," said Elma in the greatest alarm. The fear that MissGrace might be offended only now assailed her.
"Intelligently, dear," corrected Miss Grace.
"I never did truly think she would come," said Elma.
"Then, dear, it was not very polite to invite her." Miss Grace couldnot bear that Elma should miss any point in her own gentle code ofetiquette.
"In justice to little Elma, I invited myself." The full-throated tonesof Miss Dudgeon's voice came to them from the door. "And what is more,I said to Saunders, 'Let me surprise Miss Grace, I do not want todisturb the music.'"
"And then of course the music stopped," said Miss Grace.
She kissed Adelaide Maud in a very friendly way.
"Oh, but it will go on again at once, if neither of you are offended,"said Elma. She was much relieved.
"You must not be so afraid of offending people," said Miss Grace. "Itis a great fault of yours, dear."
As Adelaide Maud bent to kiss her, Elma was struck with the justice ofthis criticism.
"I believe I might be as fascinating as Mabel if only I weren't afraid,"she thought to herself. The reflection made her play in a minor key.
"Just let me say a few words to Miss Grace," had said Adelaide Maud."Play on and don't mind us for a bit."
Adelaide Maud spoke to Miss Grace in an undertone. Elma thought they didit to let her feel at ease, and correspondingly played quite happily.
"I have seen Dr. Merryweather," said Adelaide Maud to Miss Grace. "Hesays you must go off for a change at once."
"Dr. Merryweather!"
Miss Grace turned very pale.
"Exactly. I did it on my own responsibility. He was most concernedabout you. He said that what Dr. Smith had ordered you ought to carryout."
"He was always very hard on Annie," said Miss Grace, who saw only oneside to such a proposal.
Adelaide Maud bent her head a trifle.
"You ought not to think of Miss Annie, at present," said she. "It isn'tright. It isn't fair to her either, supposing you turn really ill, whatwould become of her?"
Neither noticed the lagging notes on the piano. Instead, in theearnestness of their conversation, they entirely forgot Elma.
Miss Grace shook her head.
"I can't help it," she said. "Whatever happens to me, I must stay by mybed-ridden sister. Who would look after her if I deserted her? What ismy poor well-being compared to hers!"
The notes on the piano fell completely away. Elma sat with the tearsraining down her face.
"Oh, Miss Grace," she said brokenly, "are you ill? Don't say you areill."
The sky had fallen indeed, if such a thing could be true, as Miss Gracein a trouble of her own--and such a trouble--ill health--when Miss Annierequired her so much.
Adelaide Maud looked greatly discouraged.
"Now, Elma," she exclaimed abruptly, "Miss Grace is only a little bitill, and it's to keep her from getting worse that I'm talking to her.We didn't intend you to listen. Miss Annie will wonder why the pianohas stopped. Be cheerful now and play a bit--something merrier thanwhat you've been at."
She pretended not to see that Miss Grace wiped her eyes a trifle.
"I make you an offer, Miss Grace. I shall come here every day and stayand be sweet to every one. I shall take Miss Annie her flowers and herbooks and her work, and I shall bark away all nasty intruders like agood sheep dog. I shall keep the servants in a good temper--includingSaunders who is a love, and I promise you, you will never regret it--ifonly you go away for a holiday--now--before you have time to be ill,because you didn't take the thing at the start!"
(Could this be Adelaide Maud!)
Elma flung herself off the music stool, and rushed to Miss Grace.
"And oh, please, please, Miss Grace, let me go with you to see that youget better. You never will unless some one makes you. You will justtry to get back to Miss Annie." Thus Elma sounded the first note ofthat great quality she possessed which distinguished the thing otherpeople required and made her anxious to see it given to them.
A break in Miss Grace's calm determination occurred.
"Oh that, my love, my dear little love, that would be very pleasant."She patted Elma's hand with anxious affection.
Adelaide Maud looked hopeful.
"Won't you leave it to us?" she asked, "to Dr. Smith to break it to MissAnnie, as a kind of command, and to me to break it to Mr. Leighton as anabject request? Because I believe this idea of Elma's is about asvaluable as any of mine. You must have some one with you who knows howself-denying you are, Miss Grace. You ought to have Dr. Merryweatherwith you in fact, to keep you in order."
"My dear, how can you suggest such a thing," said Miss Grace. She wasquite horrified.
"Dr. Smith," she turned to Elma, "has ordered me off to Buxton, to anasty crowded hotel where they drink nasty waters all day long."
"They don't drink the waters in the hotel, and the hotels are verynice," corrected Miss Dudgeon.
"It will be very hot and crowded and dull," wailed Miss Grace. It wasastonishing how obstinate Miss Grace could be on a point where her ownwelfare was concerned.
Elma clasped and unclasped her hands.
"A hotel! Oh, Miss Grace, how perfectly lovely!"
"There, you see," said Miss Dudgeon, wonderfully quick to notice whereher advantage came in, "you see what a delightful time you will conferon whoever goes with you. Some of us love hotels."
Perhaps nobody ever knew what a golden picture the very suggestionopened out to Elma. Already she was in a gorgeous erection with giltcornices and red silk curtains, like one she had seen in town. Peoplewhom she had never met were coming and going and looking at her asthough they would like to speak to her. She would not know who theiraunts or cousins or parents were, and she shouldn't have to beintroduced. They would simply come to Miss Grace and, noticing howdistinguished she looked, they would say, "May I do this or that foryou," and the thing was done. She herself would be able to behave tothem as she always behaved in her daydreams, very correctly andproperly. She would never do the silly blundering thing which onealways did when other people were well aware of the reputation one wassupposed to bear. Didn't every one at home know, before she sat down toplay piano for instance, that she invariably made mistakes. Jean wouldsay, "Oh, Elma gets so rattled, you know," and immediately it seemed asthough she ought to get rattled. Nobody in the hotel would know this.She saw herself playing to an immense audience without making a singlemistake. Then the applause--it became necessary to remember that MissGrace was still speaking.
Miss Grace sat with her hands folded nervously. She was quite erect in away, but there was invariably a pathetic little droop to her head andshoulders which gave her a delicate appearance. A very costly piece ofcreamy lace was introduced into the bodice of her grey gown, and on itthe locket which contained Miss Annie's portrait and hair rose and fellin little agitated jerks. Miss Annie wore a corresponding locketcontaining Miss Grace's portrait and hair, but these always laylanguorously on her white throat undisturbed by such palpitation as nowexcited Miss Grace.
"Oh, my dear," she said to Miss Dudgeon, "you don't understand. Thegaiety of the place is nothing to me. It's like being here--where myfriends say to me how nice it is to have windows opening on to the highroad, where so many people pass. I tell them that it isn't those whopass, it is those who come in who count. You passed for so long, mydear."
She put her hand mutely on that of Adelaide Maud.
It was true then. Miss Grace hadn't known her all these years when theLeighton girls talked about the Story Books so much, but only recently!The Dudgeons must really be coming out of their shell.
Elma's eyes grew round with conjecture.
Why was Adelaide Maud so friendly now?
"It was really Dr. Merryweather," said Adelaide Maud.
A faint flush invaded Miss Grace's pallor.
"It is most kind of Dr. Merryweather. Years ago, I am afraid we ratherslighted him."
"Oh well, he keeps a very friendly eye on you, Miss Grace, and he saysyou are to go to Buxton."
It became the first real trouble of Miss Grace's own life, that sheshould have to go to Buxton. Adelaide Maud arranged it for her,otherwise the thing would never have occurred. It was she who persuadedDr. Smith to put it this way to Miss Annie that it would be dangerousfor her to have the anxiety of Miss Grace's being ill at home, and mostupsetting to the household. It was better that the excursion should belooked upon as a holiday graciously granted by Miss Annie, the donor ofit, than an imperative measure ordered by the doctor for the saving ofMiss Grace.
Miss Grace wondered at the ready acquiescence of Miss Annie. She seemedalmost pleased to let her sister go. In a rather sad way, Miss Gracebegan to wonder whether, after all, she might not have released herselfyears ago. Would Annie have minded? The progress of this malady whichnow asserted itself, she had quietly ignored for so long, that only adarting pain, which might attack her in the presence of Miss Annie, hadcompelled her to consult Dr. Smith. He was astonished at what she hadsuffered.
"You do not deserve to have me tell you how fortunate it is that afterall we have nothing malignant to discover," he told her. "But you willbecome really ill, helpless occasionally, if you do not take this inhand now." Just after he had gone, Adelaide Maud called. She came toask for money in connection with the church, but she stayed to talk overMiss Grace's symptoms. The grey shadow on Miss Grace's face had alarmedher.
"Aren't you well, Miss Grace?" she asked sympathetically. Then for thefirst time since Miss Annie had gone to bed, Miss Grace had given wayand confessed what the trouble was to Adelaide Maud.
It became astonishing to think how rapidly things could happen in sotiny and so slow a place.
Here they were now, in a happy confidential trio, the moving inspiratorthat smart, garden-party person, Adelaide Maud.
The Leighton girls could not believe it. They had, with the exceptionof Elma, reached a hopeless condition with regard to the Story Books.The Dudgeons had so palpably shown themselves, even although graciouslypolite throughout, to be of so entirely different a set to theLeightons. None of the girls except Adelaide Maud had called. Andafter what Cuthbert had done! Elma certainly felt the difference thatmight occur where Miss Grace and Miss Annie were concerned. "Whyhaven't we a footman and an odd man?" asked Jean viciously. "Then itwould be all right."
Now came the invitation for Elma to go with Miss Grace.
Both Mr. and Mrs. Leighton were greatly touched. Mr. Leighton put hishand on Elma's shoulder.
"When you can make yourself indispensable to your best friends, that isalmost as great a thing as playing the Moonlight Sonata without amistake," said he.
But both Mrs. Leighton and he refused to let Elma go. They called onMiss Grace to explain. The fact that they had left Elma in a state ofdespair that bordered on rebellion made them more firm.
"Elma is so young," said Mrs. Leighton, "and so highly strung andsensitive, I can't let her go with an easy mind. She has visited soseldom, and then invariably lain awake at nights with the excitement. Itwouldn't be good for you, Miss Grace. I should have you both very muchon my mind."
Adelaide Maud was there.
"I see your point, Mrs. Leighton," she said brightly. "But Elma knowsMiss Grace so well, wouldn't it be just like going with you or Mr.Leighton."
Mr. Leighton interposed.
"It's more for the sake of Miss Grace. She must have some one regardingwhom she does not require to be anxious. Elma is a dreamy little being,and might turn home-sick in an hour, or frightened if Miss Grace were alittle ill--anything might occur in that way."
"But she is nearly thirteen. Some day she must be cured ofhome-sickness, and Miss Grace will take her maid," said Adelaide Maud."Oh, Mr. Leighton, don't hold in your daughters too much! It's so hardon them later."
Adelaide Maud looked quite pathetic.
"It isn't so with all of them," said Mrs. Leighton. "Jean is quitedifferent. Jean can go anywhere."
Underneath Mrs. Leighton's kind, loving ways lay a superb respect forthe domineering manners of her second daughter.
"I should never be afraid of Jean's lying awake at night, or turninghome-sick. She is much too sensible."
Miss Grace became impressed with the virtues of Jean.
"Then Jean might come," she proposed apologetically.
Adelaide Maud could not forgive her. After having awakened that radiantlook in Elma's eyes, to weakly propose that she might take the robustJean!
Mrs. Leighton's eyes wandered to her husband.
"Jean grows so fast. Perhaps a change would do her good," she suggestedvaguely.
"I should feel much more confident of Jean," said he.
So it was arranged.
Elma never forgot it. She wept silently in her room, and acceptedcomfort from no one, not even her mother.
"There is one thing, Jean oughtn't to have said to mother she would go.She put that in her mind before mother went out. I knew it was all upthen. Jean will always get what she wants, all her life, and I shallhave to back out. Just because I can't play sonatas without mistakesthey think I cannot do anything."
Elma found Betty's shoulder very comforting.
A remark of Adelaide Maud's rankled in Mr. Leighton's mind. He was notaltogether happy at having to act the dragon to Elma in any case.Adelaide Maud had got him quietly by herself.
"Don't let little Elma begin giving up things to those sisters of herstoo soon, Mr. Leighton. Unselfishness is all very well. But look at thehelpless thing it has made of Miss Grace."
Then she relented at sight of his face.
"I'm almost as disappointed as Elma, you see," she said radiantly.
Mr. Leighton tried to put it out of his mind, but Elma, sobbing in herbedroom, had at last reached a stage where she couldn't pretend thatnothing had hurt her, a stage where the feelings of other people mightbe reckoned not to count at all. It was an unusual condition for her tobe in. She generally fought out her disappointments in secret. Herfather came to her finally, and began smoothing her hair in a sad sortof way.
"You aren't looking on your own father as your worst enemy?" he askedher kindly.
Elma's sobs stopped abruptly.
"I was," she said abjectly.
It was part of the sincerity of her nature that she immediatelyrecognized where the case against herself came in.
"I'm sorry about Jean," said Mr. Leighton. "It didn't strike me at thetime that it would be such a treat to either of you, you see. And wechose the one who seemed most fitted for going with Miss Grace."
"Mabel might have gone," wailed Elma.
Mabel! Not for a moment had the claims of Mabel been mentioned. Mr.Leighton was completely puzzled.
Elma in an honourable manner felt that probably she might be giving awayMabel to an unseeing parent. Mabel wanted, oh very much, to stay athome just then.
"But of course Jean wanted to go," she said hurriedly. "more than Mabeldid."
"Some day you will all have your turn," said Mr. Leighton consolingly."I know it's very dull being at home with your parents! Isn't it?"
Elma laughed a little.
"It isn't that," she said, "but it would be lovely--in a hotel--with amaid, you know--of your own! Such fun--seeing the people. And MissGrace wanted me."
Mr. Leighton stroked her hair.
"I liked her wanting you. I shall never forget that," said he.
"Oh!" El
ma gave a little gulp of pleasure. This was worth a greatdeal. There was really nothing on earth like being complimented byone's father. She sidled on Mr. Leighton's knee and put her arms roundhis neck. He still stroked her hair.
"You must remember that it isn't only in hotels that you see life," hesaid, "or on battle-fields that you fight battles. It's here at home,where one apparently is only sheltered and dull. It's always easy toget on for a day or two with new, or outside friends. But it's your ownpeople who count. Don't make it disagreeable for Jean to go with MissGrace." His voice came in the nature of a swift command. After all,her mother and father had arranged it, and the consciousness came downon her of how she slighted those two, dearer than any, in being sorebellious.
"I won't," said Elma. Quite a determined little line settled at herquivering lips, "But I never felt so bad in my life."
"Oh well, we shall see what can be done about that," said Mr. Leighton.And it pleased him more than a battle-field of victories could have doneto see Elma come into her own again.
"Do you think you could try the Moonlight Sonata now?" he askedabruptly, looking at his watch.
It was his hobby that he must keep at least one girl at the piano in theevenings.
"Not without a lot of mistakes," said Elma.
But she played better that night than she had ever done.
The Story Book Girls Page 9