give Mrs Burgess her bonnet.--Now as to the laceyou would like the caps to be made of, and the colours? I forget howmany you said you wanted?"
Mrs Burgess had made up her mind to have three. But something quiteindescribable in Stasy's tone aroused her spirit of contradiction.
"I didn't speak of more than one," she said.
"I beg your pardon," said Stasy, with extreme deference. "I must havebeen mistaken. I thought you alluded to _some_ caps."
"Well, and what if I did?" said Mrs Burgess, growing illogical as shewaxed cross. "I came, hoping to see Miss Derwent, and there's no sayinghow many I mightn't have ordered if she had been in. But as it is, Idon't know but what I'd do better to wait till I get to London. I'm notat all sure that you'll be able to manage it."
"That must be as you prefer," said Stasy, preparing to replace the lidon a box of tempting-looking laces which had just caught Mrs Burgess'seye. The girl knew quite well that the doctor's wife did intend toorder the caps, and in her heart she was beginning to feel someinterest--the purely disinterested interest of the artist--infabricating something which should for once show off her customer'splain features to the best advantage; but she was determined to reduceMrs Burgess in the first place to a proper attitude of humility anddeference. Her air of profound indifference was perfect.
"You may as well let me see those laces," the doctor's wife began again."You needn't be quite so short about it, Miss Stasy; it's natural Ishould like to see what you can do. I won't go back from having _one_cap, and, if it's all right, I'll let you know about another."
Stasy looked at her calmly.
"I must have misunderstood you again," she said.
"I thought you wanted them at once. I could promise two, or even three,to-morrow, if you decide upon them now, but not otherwise."
"And perhaps you will allow me to mention," said Miss Halliday, comingforward, "that even if Miss Derwent had taken the order, ten to one butMiss Stasy would have carried it out. There is no one like her forquick work. She knows in an instant what's the right thing to do, andher fingers are like a fairy's.--I _will_ say it for you, my dear!"
Mrs Burgess's respect for Stasy rapidly increased, though the girls airof calm superiority made her try her best to hide the fact.
"Ah well," she said, in what she intended to be a tone of condescendinggood-nature, but which Stasy was far too quick not to interpret truly,"suppose we fix for two caps, one for morning and one for evening.Yes--those laces are very nice. You have some pretty flowers, Isuppose?"
"For the evening head-dress, you mean," said Stasy. "These thick lacesare for evening caps, and, _of course_, without flowers. I shouldpropose a few loops of black velvet with this lace."
"Black velvet!" exclaimed Mrs Burgess. "That will be dull. I like abit of colour in my cap. It sets off a dark dress, and Mr Burgess likesme best in dark things since I've got so stout."
"If you particularly wish it, you can have crimson velvet," said Stasy;"but, of course, black would be the right thing."
"Well, I'll leave it to you," secretly convinced, but determined not toshow it, was the reply, and, feeling herself triumphant, Stasy couldafford to be generous. She drew out a box of beautiful French flowersof various shades, in which she allowed Mrs Burgess to revel with a viewto the evening cap. And just as the doctor's wife, having recovered herusual jollity, was impressing upon her that she _must_ have thecaps--_must_, whatever happened--to try on by eleven o'clock the nextmorning, the shop door softly opened.
"Mind you," repeated Mrs Burgess in her loud, rather rough tones,intending to be jocular, "you'll have them back on your hands, MissStasy, unless you keep to the time."
The name "Stasy" fell on ears to which it had once been very familiar.
"Stasy," their owner repeated to himself inaudibly, as he stoodunnoticed by the door. "Can that be my little girl's child, and in sucha position? Good heavens! how careless I have been."
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.
THE TALL OLD GENTLEMAN.
"Ahem!" followed by a slight cough, drew the attention of the three inthe shop wards the door, whence the sound proceeded.
There stood a tall, rather bent, grey-haired old gentleman. MissHalliday stared at him dubiously, but Mrs Burgess started forward.
"Good gracious!" she exclaimed. "Sir Adam! Who'd have thought it? Ihad no idea, sir, you were in the neighbourhood."
The new-comer glanced at her coldly.
"Oh," he said, after a moment's pause, "Mrs Burgess, is it not? I hopeyour good husband is well--But"--and he stepped forward--"may I ask,"addressing Miss Halliday, "if it is the case that--that Mrs Derwent andher daughters are living here for the present?"
"It is so," said the milliner, with gentle and half-deprecatingcourtesy. "I am sorry."--Then remembering Stasy's presence, she turnedto her. "This is Miss Anastasia. She can explain better. Perhaps,Miss Stasy, you will take the gentleman into the drawing-room till yourmamma returns. I daresay she will not be long now."
Stasy put down on the counter a trail of roses which she was stillholding, and laid her pretty little hand, with almost childlikeconfidence, in Sir Adam's, already extended to meet it. The old manlooked at her with a curiously mingled expression. Something about her,as well as her name, recalled her mother; still more, perhaps, hergrandfather. For, though Stasy was at what is commonly called the"awkward age," in her very unformed, half-wild gracefulness there wasthe suggestion of the underlying refinement and courtliness of bearing,for which Sir Adam's old friend had been remarkable.
"My dear child; my poor, dear child!" he exclaimed.
Then the two disappeared--the young girl's hand still held firmly in theold man's grasp--through the door at the end of the shop, which led intothe Derwents' own quarters, to Miss Halliday's intense satisfaction, andMrs Burgess's no less profound discomfiture and amazement.
"Dear, dear!" she ejaculated. "What's going to happen now?" and sheturned to Miss Halliday.
"I don't understand you, ma'am," she said quietly.
"Why, it's plain to see what I mean," returned the other. "Old Sir AdamNigel treating Stasy Derwent as if she were his grand-daughter! Howdoes he know anything about them?"
"She is not that, certainly," said Miss Halliday, referring to the firstpart of Mrs Burgess's speech, "but she is the grand-daughter of his veryoldest and dearest friend, Mr Fenning--the Honourable and Reverend--andof his wife, Lady Anastasia Bourne, to give her maiden name," rollingout the words with exquisite enjoyment. "If you'll excuse me, MrsBurgess," she continued, "I think, from the first, you've just a littlemistaken the position of my dear ladies, if I may make bold to call themso."
For a worm will turn, and all Miss Halliday's timidity vanished inindignation, hitherto repressed, at the behaviour of the doctor's wife.
"Bless me!" exclaimed Mrs Burgess, "how was I to know? But what aboutmy caps?"
"You shall have your caps; no fear of that," replied Miss Halliday."It's not real ladies that break their word." And with a little bow ofdismissal, which Mrs Burgess meekly obeyed, she opened the door for thelatter to make her way out.
"I've done no harm," thought the little woman, with satisfaction; "she'stoo pleased to have got hold of some gossip, to mind my plain-speaking."
Half-an-hour or so later, Mrs Derwent and Blanche, who had been temptedby the loveliness of the autumn afternoon, to go farther than they hadintended, made their way home through the fields at the back of thehouse, entering by a door in the garden wall, of which Blanche had thekey. Half-way up the gravel path, the sound of voices reached themthrough the open glass door of the drawing-room.
"Dear me!" exclaimed Blanche, "whom can Stasy have got in there? Sheseems to be talking very busily, and--yes, laughing too. Listen,mamma."
"It must be Herty," Mrs Derwent replied, half indifferently, for she wasfeeling a little tired, and, as could not but happen now and then, forall her courage, somewhat depressed. "Herty, or Miss Halliday," sheadded.
"No," s
aid Blanche, standing still for a moment. "Miss Halliday must bein the shop, as Stasy isn't Mamma," with a quick and slightly nervousmisgiving, "I'm sure I hear a man's voice.--Surely," she thought toherself, "it can't be--oh no, he would never come again in that way."
"Who can it be?" said Mrs Derwent, for her ears, too, were quick.
They