A Double Knot - George Manville Fenn

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      “Child, indeed! why, she is only a year younger than I. Oh! it has been abominable; we have been treated like babies, and I feel sometimes now as if I were only a little girl. But only wait.”

      “Yes,” cried Clotilde with a curious laugh, “only wait.”

      “Someone coming,” whispered Ruth, leaping up from the floor where she had been listening, and the childlike obedience to the stern authority in which they had been trained resumed its sway.

      Clotilde bounded to the piano, and began to practise a singing lesson, her rich contralto voice rising and falling as she ran up an arpeggio, trying to make it accord with five notes struck together out of tune; Marie darted to a chair, and snatched up a quill pen, inked her forefinger, and bent over a partly written exercise on composition—a letter addressed to a lady of title, to be written in the style of Steele; and Ruth snatched up a piece of needlework, and began to sew. Then the door opened, and Markes, the nurse, appeared.

      “Miss Clotilde and Miss Marie to come to the dining-room directly.”

      “What for, Markes?” cried Clotilde, pausing in the middle of a rich-toned run full of delicious melody.

      “Come and see. There, I’ll tell you—may as well, I suppose. Dressmaker to measure you for some new frocks.”

      “La—ra—ra—ra—ra—ra—ra—rah!” sang Clotilde in a powerful crescendo, as she swung round upon the music-stool and then leaped up, while Marie rose slowly, with a quiet, natural grace.

      “Am—am I to come, too?” said Ruth.

      “You? No. It’s them,” said Markes grimly. “Fine goings on, ’pon my word.”

      “What are fine goings on, Markes?” cried Clotilde.

      “Why, ordering new dresses. Better buy a new carpet for one of the bedrooms, and spend a little more money on the living. I’m getting sick of the pinching and griping ways.”

      “I say, Markes, what’s for dinner to-day?” exclaimed Marie, on finding the woman in a more communicative mood than usual.

      “Cold boiled mutton.”

      “Ugh!” ejaculated Clotilde. “I hate cold mutton. Is there no pudding?”

      “Yes; it’s pudding day.”

      “That’s better. What pudding is it?”

      Markes shook her head.

      “Tell me, and I’ll give you a kiss,” said Clotilde.

      “If your aunts was to hear you talk like that they’d have fits,” grumbled the woman. “It’s rice-pudding.”

      “Baked?”

      “No.”

      “Boiled in milk?”

      “No—plain boiled.”

      “Sauce or jam with it?”

      “Sauce or jam!” said the woman, in tones of disgust. “Neither on ’em, but sugar and a bit o’ butter; and think yourselves lucky to get that. New dresses, indeed! It’s shameful; and us in the kitchen half-starved!”

      “Well, we can’t help it,” said Marie. “I’m sure we don’t live any too well.”

      “No, you don’t,” said the woman, grinning. “But it does seem a shame to go spending money as they seem to mean to do on you two. I ’spose you’re going to be married, ain’t you?”

      “I don’t know,” said Clotilde. “Are we?”

      “There, don’t ask me. I don’t know nothing at all about it, and I shan’t speak a word. I only know what I heard them say.”

      “Do tell us, Marky dear, there’s a dear, good old nursey, and we’ll do just as you tell us,” said Clotilde, in a wheedling way.

      “You both make haste down, or you’ll both have double lessons to get off, so I tell you.”

      “But tell us,” said Marie, “and we’ll both give you a kiss.”

      “You keep your kisses for your rich husbands, my dears, and I hope you’ll like giving ’em—that’s all I can say. I told you so: there goes the bell.”

       Table of Contents

      Eccentric Guests.

      “That’s right—I adore punctuality,” said Dr. Stonor, as John Huish was ushered into the drawing-room of Laurel Hall. For, having mastered the repugnance which had made him feel disposed to send a message to put off his visit, he had chartered a hansom, and run up to the doctor’s house.

      There was nothing new about it externally, for it was one of those old red-brick buildings that our ancestors knew so well how to contrive, and which they always surrounded with iron railings with great gates about double their height. This was evidently for protection; but why the gates were made so high and the railings so low has never been yet found out.

      So John Huish rang and was admitted, starting slightly on finding himself face to face with Daniel; but as that individual acted as if they had never met before, and asked him his name, the visitor felt more composed, and entered, and was announced.

      “My sister, Miss Stonor,” said the doctor. “Selina, my dear, this is one of my oldest patients. I prescribed for him for infantile colic when he was a month old, and lanced his gums at six.”

      John Huish found himself face to face with a thin, prim little lady in tightly-fitting black silk with white collar and cuffs. She was rather pale, had perfectly grey hair in smooth bands, and looked mild and wistful, but she saluted their guest with a quiet smile, and then he was led off to be introduced to the others present.

      “This is Captain Lawdor, Mr. Rawlinson, Mr. Roberts,” continued the doctor. “My old friend John Huish.” And he introduced Huish in turn to a rather bluff-looking, florid man with grey whiskers; a heavy, stern and stubborn looking man with iron-grey hair and a closely-trimmed beard; and a slight, delicate man with rather a sad expression, which, however, lit up with a genial smile.

      John Huish was very soon engaged with Captain Lawdor on the question of yachting, and found his new acquaintance somewhat of an enthusiast upon the build and rig of sea-going boats, his preference being for the yawl. But, all the same, he found time to exchange a few words with the thin, pensive-looking Mr. Roberts, who chatted about the politics of the hour, and with Mr. Rawlinson, whose speech quite carried out the stubborn appearance of his knotty forehead and short iron-grey hair. He was very indignant about a railway accident mentioned in the daily paper, and gave it as his opinion that there would be no safety until heavy penalties were inflicted upon the companies, or else until the lines were in the hands of the Government.

      Then Daniel came in and announced dinner, and Mr. Roberts taking down Miss Stonor, Huish found himself with the doctor.

      “Patients not well enough to show up, doctor?” he said quietly, as they went towards the dining-room.

      “Eh?”

      “I said, ‘Patients not well enough to show up’?”

      “Hist! Don’t mention them,” said the doctor; and Huish gave a sigh of relief as he thought how much better the dinner would pass off without such company.

      A minute later and they were seated at table, John Huish on the doctor’s right, and the captain on his right again. The stubborn, heavy man was upon Miss Stonor’s right, and the pensive-looking man facing Huish. Grace was said, the cover of the soup-tureen was lifted with a flourish by

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