The Story Book Girls

by S. R. Crockett

  CHAPTER XXIX

  Mr. Symington

  Mabel and Jean were to be bridesmaids at Isobel's wedding. Ridgetownhad only one opinion for that proceeding. "It was just like theLeightons."

  Aunt Katharine was more explicit.

  "It's hardly decent," she said. "Do you want the man to show how manywives he could have had."

  "To show one he couldn't have, more likely," said Mrs. Leighton shortly.She herself could not reconcile it to her ideas of what should havebeen. Mr. Leighton was adamant on the question, however. Isobel hadset her heart on this marriage and the marriage was to be carried out.She was their guest and their responsibility. It would be scandalous ifthey did not uphold her as they would have done had there been none ofthis former acquaintance with Robin. It would seem as though they hadattached unnecessary importance to what now was termed "nothing morethan a flirtation." It was a pity they could not all like Robin as theyought to, or have been extremely fond of Isobel; but under thecircumstances, they at least must all "play the game."

  Isobel took the information tranquilly. It seemed to her that she mighthave been allowed to arrange her own bridesmaids, then she recognizedwhere the wisdom of Mr. Leighton asserted itself on her side. There wasmuch less chance of conjecture where she and Mabel showed up in friendlymanner together with one another. She had one friend from London as herfirst bridesmaid, and after this the question of dresses obliteratedeverything.

  Jean, it is true, had still a soul for other things. She moaned for herSlavska on every occasion. She rushed to mirrors in agony lest her chinor throat muscles were getting into disrepair, and she talked already ofhaving to renew her lessons.

  "You are just like a cheap motor," said Betty at last, "always having tobe done up. Why don't you keep on being a credit to your method likethe expensive machines? They don't rattle themselves to bits in aweek."

  Betty was getting a little out of patience with life.

  "I've had a ghastly time of it," she admitted to Mabel. "All the spunkis out of Elma, you know, and what with her being ill and Isobelengaged, I've led a lonely life. And now Jean can't talk of anythingbut her Slavska. I hate the man."

  When Jean was not talking about Slavska, she was sending boxes offlowers to the club girls. Reams of thanks in long letters came by themorning posts. There was no doubt of the popularity of Jean.

  "I should never be in deadly fear now of having to get on alone inlife," she said. "There's such comfort in girls, you can't think."

  Mabel had always remained a little more outside that radiantly friendlycrowd, yet had quite as admiring a following. Mr. Leighton unendinglycongratulated himself for letting them both have the experience. "Thoughnever again," he declared, "never again, will I allow one of you awayfrom home."

  Then occurred Cuthbert's engagement. In a curious way it comforted Mr.Leighton. He was acquiring another daughter. Adelaide Maud loved thatview of it best of all.

  "If Mr. Leighton had been against me, I should have refused you," sheexplained to Cuthbert.

  "You mean that I should," he corrected her. "Now what I am about topropose----"

  "Are you really going to propose, dear?" asked Adelaide Maud innocently.Cuthbert grinned.

  "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 itsplace. I shall endeavour to be ready for you in the autumn."

  "They are the funniest pair," said Jean; "Helen is so cool and Cuthbertso 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 herfinery. Elma lay on the couch at the window. She had had her trip withMr. and Mrs. Leighton, and had come home with some colour and a gooddeal 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 aculprit in this respect. Nothing excited her except the one fact whichevidently could not be altered. She had sent an invitation to Mr.Symington which he had not acknowledged in any shape or form. It seemedso ignominious. One could imagine that rather splendid and culturedperson saying, "Oh, these young Leightons again! Don't trouble me withtheir children's weddings," or something to that effect. She grew coldas she thought of what Mabel's disgust would be when she heard of theflag she had held out (what more definite signal to "come on" could anyone have given;) and of his utter disregard of that mild overture. Shegrew more and more troubled about it. So much so that Mrs. Leightonremarked to her husband as each list of acceptances came from home, andno word of Mr. Symington, "I believe that child is moping because hedoes not answer."

  Mr. Leighton was all for the righting that time would accomplish. "Shemay 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 sofar away that he hasn't had the letter."

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

  Elma finally came home, and they had reached the Saturday afternoonbefore the wedding on the following Tuesday. A very finished example ofthe London girl had appeared as Isobel's first bridesmaid, and everybodywas 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. "Ithink of all the men we know and how nice they are, but I don't want tobe 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 thanhave a wedding."

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

  "If only papa would see it," she said, "it would cost L60, but I shouldget it all back again."

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

  "Yes," broke in Mabel. "Where you pay L60 to an agent and he looksafter everything including the people with whom you appear. You fillone part of the hall with your friends, and they fill up the rest. Freetickets, 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 isthe duty of the rival crowd to remain silent when their own friend isn'tperforming."

  "Oh, Mabel," said Jean.

  "It's true," said the London girl. "And if a critic comes you treasurehim, oh! you treasure him! There are seats and seats waiting forcritics. This one poor man puts it as neatly as he can, Miss So-and-Sosang "agreeably," then he rushes off to the most adjacent hall, and doesthe 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 otherperformers, you may happen to find that they have already paid the agentin 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 tome. And it's very good business for the agent."

  "Oh dear," cried Jean. "Do be silent about it then. With you in thehouse, 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 farmore important things to think about, I can't imagine. Jean, you mightstop talking of your own affairs for once and hel
p 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 ofthis, without asking for particulars, took Jean in his arms, and carriedher off.

  "I think it's perfectly miraculous the strength that comes to engagedpeople," said Betty simply. "Cuthbert couldn't have moved Jean a fewweeks 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 playto him nowadays," said Cuthbert. "There are to be no more weddings hesays."

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

  "Well, let Jean go and rehearse 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, tofour minor notes, containing the augmented fourth of the opening to theBerlioz "King of Thule," which they all loved. Somebody had said "Oilthat 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 thewindow, she could have dispensed with minor intervals for the rest ofher existence.

  Mr. Symington was coming up the drive.

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

  "I don't think any of you need go down to papa," said she. "There's anold 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 hadfrom Miss Grace, you would have known better than to talk of oldjohnnies. 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.

  "Do," said Cuthbert, and put his arm round her.

  To the dismay of the girls, he swung Elma into the midst of the weddingtrousseaux. Boxes were snatched up, tissue paper sent flying in alldirections. Every girl in the room screamed maledictions on them both.This was quite unlike Elma, to be displaying her own feelings at therisk of anything else in the world. They stopped with a wild whirl.

  "Elma wanted to dance," said Cuthbert coolly, "and as she hasn't had anyexercise lately, I thought it would be good for her. Have some more?"he asked her.

  A demon of delight danced in Elma's eyes.

  "Why, certainly," she said politely.

  There was no holding them in at all.

  Elma had her first real lecture, from Mabel of all people.

  "I think it's very inconsiderate of you, Elma--just when we are so busy.You might arrange to stop fooling with Cuthbert when these things arelying about. It isn't fair of you."

  "Oh, Mabs," said Elma, "you don't know! I've been under the clouds solong--thunder clouds, with everything raining down on me, and hardly anysunshine at all. And just at the present moment I'm on top of theclouds, treading on air; I can't describe it. But even although you areso solemn, and Isobel is so vexed, and Jean is so haughty, and Betty issimply vicious, why, even in spite of that, I'd like another dance withCuthbert."

  Her eyes shone. (Oh, what--what was taking place down stairs?)

  Cuthbert said "Come on," in a wild way. These spirits had been naturalwith him just lately.

  But this time five girls intervened.

  "Not if I know it," said Isobel.

  And "Get you to your Adelaide Maud," cried Betty. So there was no moredancing for Elma just then.

  "However," said she, "for the first time in my life, I think, I'm reallylooking forward to Tuesday night." They were to have a dance in honourof Isobel's wedding. "I think that whether Dr. Merryweather is alive ordead, I shall dance the whole evening." She began to adopt Jean'smanner. "Do you know," she said to her, "I feel so inspired. I think Icould go and compose an anthem!" (What were they saying downstairs?)

  "Oh," said Betty. "She said that just before she took ill, you know.And I lay awake at night thinking she would die. Because I asked you,you know, just in fun, were you going to die because you wanted to writean anthem."

  "On the contrary," said Elma, "I now want to write an anthem because I'mabout to live."

  "Look here, Elma," said Mabel sedately, "if you don't sit down and keepyourself quiet, I shall get Dr. Merryweather to come."

  "If he has time," said Isobel drily.

  "Time?" asked Mabel.

  "Yes, before he gets married to Miss Grace."

  That bomb burst itself to silence in the most complete pause that hadfallen on the Leighton family for a long time. They began to collecttheir scattered senses with difficulty. Elma thought, "Mr. Symington inthe drawing-room and Miss Grace going to be married! Am I alive ordead?"

  "Didn't you notice?" said Isobel's calm voice. "Haven't you seen thatDr. Merryweather's heart is with Miss Grace? You could tell that fromthe colour of his gloves. Lemon yellow ever since Miss Annie died."

  "Oh, Isobel," said Mabel gravely.

  Elma remembered her asking, "And Miss Grace, this man, was he----" andSaunders opening the door and announcing, "Dr. Merryweather." Was thissomething more than a coincidence, and was Isobel right? Surely MissGrace would have let her know. Then the certainty that Miss Grace wouldfar more easily let an alien like Isobel know, by reason of her ownembarrassment, than a friend like Elma through frank and easyconfidence, began to convince her. She heard the gate sing its littlesong of warning again at that moment. Miss Meredith tripped in.

  Miss Meredith!

  Elma put her head out at the open window.

  "Oh, Miss Meredith, do come upstairs, we've such a lot to show you."

  Sarah came safely up. (Oh the relief!) What if she met Mr. Symington,and this new castle of cards came tumbling down to more interferencefrom that quarter. Besides, they were soon going to tea, and Mabel wasstill unwarned. Elma discreetly hoped that Mabel would not faint. Asfor herself, her shakiness seemed gone for ever. She was a lion,defending Mabel.

  Miss Meredith floated about the room. "Perfectly sweet," she said oneminute, and "Isn't it a dream?" the next. (What was Mr. Symingtonsaying in the drawing-room?)

  It came alarmingly near tea-time. Elma made everybody prink up alittle. "We are all such frights," she said, "and there's some oldjohnny with papa in the drawing-room."

  "I do believe you know who it is," said Betty, "and won't tell us." Shewas in a suspicious mood with society in general.

  "I do," said Elma simply. "It's Mr. Symington."

  Mabel did not faint. She was providentially with her back to theothers, packing a tulle dress in tissue paper just then, and one has tobe very particular with tulle. She was quite collected and calm when shefinished. Miss Meredith was the colour of the Liberty green screenbehind her. Her energy did not fail her in this crisis however.

  "Why, it's nice Mr. Symington comes back," she said. "Is he coming tothe wedding?"

  "He is," said Elma. "He was my 'particular.' I asked Isobel if I mightinvite him."

  "Who is he anyway?" asked Isobel, patting her hair gently in front of amirror.

  ("Oh, Isobel, my friend, if you only knew that," Elma conferred withherself, "you wouldn't perhaps be the centre of attraction to-day.")

  "He's a man who's great friends with the pater," said Jeanunconcernedly. "He goes abroad a lot and writes up things and developsphotos and has a place in Wales."

  "A place in Wales, how nice!" said the London girl. "But it isn't thegreat Mr. Symington, is it?"

  "Why, yes, I suppose it must
be," said Jean.

  "Of course it is," said Miss Meredith, socially active once more. "Mr.Symington is a very famous young man."

  "Good gracious," said the London girl, "my curling tongs at once,please. These surprises are very demoralizing. Look at my hair."

  They all made themselves beautiful for "the great Mr. Symington."

  Mabel turned a pair of wide eyes on Elma. Elma nodded like a littlemother, with a wealth of smiles at her lips. (Oh, Mabel, play up!)

  Cuthbert had found his mother coming out of the drawing-room.

  "Well, you seem in good spirits," said she,

  "Who is in there?" he asked.

  "Mr. Symington."

  "Oh, it's he, is it?"

  "Why do you ask?"

  "Oh, for no particular reason," said Cuthbert. "Only Elma saw him comingin and called him an old johnny. I knew something was up."

  "Elma?" asked Mrs. Leighton anxiously.

  "Yes. And she's in great form about something. Haven't seen her so gayfor an age."

  Mrs. Leighton's eyes dropped. "Poor little girl," she said to herself.She thought it best to proceed upstairs, and break some of the surpriseof Mr. Symington's arrival.

  She found them in a room where boxes were piled in every direction. Itwas like her that in her present dilemma she should immediately begin toreprove them for their untidy habits.

  "This room is really a disgrace," she said. "Just look at all theseboxes! And it's tea-time and not one of you in the drawing-room withyour father, the only afternoon he has too! Elma, what have you beendoing to make your hair so untidy?"

  "My hair is only a wig, and this is my room," said Elma firmly. "Forthe last ten minutes I have been trying to get to my own mirror. We areprinking ourselves up for the great Mr. Symington."

  "Oh," said Mrs. Leighton. "So you know. Well, he only got theinvitation a few days ago, when he was buried in Servia or someoutlandish place. He came right on."

  "For my wedding?" asked Isobel in cool surprise.

  Miss Meredith gazed in a rather frightened manner at every one.

  "No," said Elma. "Not altogether. There were others reasons." Shedetermined to cut all the ground from under the feet of Sarah. "Iarranged it with Mr. Symington," she said in an important voice. Then,with the airy manner of the London girl, she patted down the turbulentwig, which had so annoyed Mrs. Leighton. "He is a perfect duck," shesaid lightly.