CHAPTER XXVII
The Home-Coming
Mr. Leighton departed from his first feelings of hurry where Mabel andJean were concerned, and delayed their home coming till Elma was in acondition not to be retarded by any extra excitement.
They drove away at last from the club early in the morning, so that theyhad the entire house to see them off. It was very nearly as bad asleaving Ridgetown.
"I shall not be able to walk past your door for some days," said onered-haired girl. "Oh, don't I know that feeling?"
She was compelled to stay in London, with only a fortnight's holiday insummer time.
"I shall send you forget-me-nots by every post," said Jean. "You'll bein love with the new girl in a week."
"I won't," said the red-haired girl.
They had gifts from all of the girls stowed away somewhere. What amorning! Even the hall porter showed signs of dejection at their going.
"It will never be the same without you, miss," he said to Mabel.
One's own family were not so complimentary.
Mabel and Jean left in a heaped-up four-wheeler.
"I feel quite sick, you know," said Jean.
It was a historic statement, and Mabel had her own qualms. They left ahouseful of good little friendly people, a dazzling, hard-workingLondon, and they were going back--to the wedding of Isobel. Mabel hadnot got over the feeling that drama only exists in a brilliant manner inLondon, and that life in one's own home, though peaceful, was drabcolour. It wouldn't be drab colour, it would be radiant of course, ifhappy unexpected things happened there. How it would lighten to thecolour of rose, oh gorgeous life, if such a thing could ever happen now!But it wouldn't. All that would happen would be that Robin would marryIsobel and that she should keep on playing piano. Ah well, in any case,she could play piano a long way better than she ever did. And Jeancould sing with a certain distinction of method. Not nearly ripe, thismethod, as Jean informed every one, but on the way. Her voice would beworth hearing at twenty-five.
Much of the effect they would make on Ridgetown was invested in theboxes piled above them. All their spare time lately had been taken upin spending their allowance in clothes and panning things neatly out toLondon standards. It gave them an amount of reliance in themselves andin their return which was very exhilarating. Though what did it allmatter with Miss Annie gone?
"It terrifies me to think of Ridgetown without Miss Annie. What shallwe do there?" asked Jean mournfully.
"Yes, that's it," replied Mabel. "No one dying in London would makethat difference. I shall think, as we are driving home, Miss Annieisn't there. Won't you?"
"And here they would only have a little more time for somebody else,"said Jean.
They drove through the early morning streets with a tiny relief at theirheart. On their next drive they would know everybody they passed.
"Oh, how deadly I felt when I came here!" said Jean. "Knowing no one,and thinking that if I died in the cab no one near me would care!"
They reached Ridgetown in the afternoon. A carriage was drawn up at thestation gates. In it were Mrs. Leighton, Miss Grace and Elma.
Mabel stood transfixed.
"Oh, Elma," she said, "Elma!"
Elma knew it. She wasn't as fat as a pumpkin after all. And every onehad kept on saying that she was fatter than any pumpkin. Mabel was theonly one who had told the truth. She leaned over the folded hood of thecarriage and hugged her gently.
"I should like to inform you Mabs, I'm as fat as a pumpkin."
But Mabel hung on to the carriage with her head down. No one had toldher that Elma had been so ill as this.
Elma had the look of having been in a far country--why hadn't some onetold her? Miss Grace, who had been away for some weeks with AdelaideMaud and had just got back in fairly good spirits, did some of theconversing which helped Mabel to recover herself.
Cuthbert and Betty came hurrying up from the wrong end of the train.
"Oh, and we missed you," wailed Betty, "and I wanted to be the first."
One could hug indiscriminately at Ridgetown Station. Jean was the nextperson to melt into tears. She had tried to tell Miss Grace how sorryshe was.
Cuthbert began to restore order.
"You'd better take two in that carriage, crowded or not," said he."There are boxes lying on the platform which will require a cab tothemselves."
"It's our music," said Jean importantly and quite untruthfully.
"It's my new hat," said Mabel, with a return of her old dash.
She had gone round the carriage seeing each occupant separately, andthere seemed to be no hurry for anything, merely the pleasure of meetingagain.
Just then there was a whirl of wheels in the distance. A certainfamiliarity in the sound made four girls look at each other. Mrs.Leighton, who had no ear for wheels, stared in a surprised way at herdaughters.
"Well," she said, "what are we all waiting for? We must get homesometime."
"Yes," asked Cuthbert lustily, "what in the wide world are we waitingfor?"
A high wagonette and pair of horses drove up, and turned with a finecircle into line behind them. In the wagonette sat Adelaide Maud.Adelaide Maud was dressed in blue.
"That," said Elma, with a sigh of great contentment.
The three girls dashed at Adelaide Maud.
Elma laid her hand on Cuthbert's.
"Go and say how do you do to Adelaide Maud," said she.
For a minute or two she was left with Mrs. Leighton and Miss Grace.Then Cuthbert came to her.
"Get up," said he to Elma. "Get up. You're to go with Adelaide Maud."
"Who is this Adelaide Maud who interferes with every plan in connectionwith my family?" asked Mrs. Leighton. She had a resigned note in hervoice. "Shall we ever get home," she kept asking.
A voice behind them broke in.
"I didn't tell him to be impolite, Mrs. Leighton," said Adelaide Maud."I only asked to have Elma in my carriage."
Elma looked provokingly at Adelaide Maud.
"I'm so sorry," said she, "but I'm driving home with Cuthbert."
"It's not true," said Cuthbert. "She's doing nothing of the kind."
"Then I shall get in here," said Adelaide Maud calmly, and proceeded tostep in.
Several people tried to stop her.
"I want to drive home with mummy," said Jean.
"And I mean to take Elma," said Mabel.
Mrs. Leighton leant back in the carriage.
"I should like to mention," she said, "that this is not a royalprocession, and that we only take about two and a half minutes to gethome in any case. What does it matter which carriage we go in?"
"Every second is of value," said Jean.
"Well, here you are, Jean, get in beside your mother," said AdelaideMaud. "And, Elma and Mabel, you come with me. And, Mr. Leighton, youlook after Miss Grace. What could be more admirable?"
They did it because it seemed the simplest way out, except Cuthbert, whobacked into the station and came up on a cab with the luggage. Helooked vindictively at Adelaide Maud as he descended, as though he wouldsay, "This is your doing."
The three conveyances were blocking the wide sweep of gravel in front ofthe White House.
Adelaide Maud patted one of the horses' heads in an unnecessary manner.
"I must congratulate you on your professorship," said she.
"Thank you," said Cuthbert.
"So nice for your family too, to have you here all summer."
"Excellent," said Cuthbert.
"I don't see how you can run a lectureship when you say so little."Adelaide Maud spoke very crisply, and in a nice cool manner.
Cuthbert looked stolidly at the men carrying in luggage.
"The students will respect me probably," he said grimly.
Adelaide Maud laughed a clear ringing laugh. Then she looked atCuthbert once "straight in the eye" and ran indoors. Cuthbert beganpu
lling boxes about with unnecessary violence.
They had tea in the drawing-room amidst the roses, for the tables werecovered with them. Mabel did nothing but wander about and say, "Oh, oh,and isn't it lovely to be home."
But Jean sat right down and in a business-like manner began to describeLondon. Also, she was very sorry for Elma, because now she, Jean, knewwhat it was to be ill. She began to detail her symptoms to Elma.
"Oh, Jean, you little monkey," said Mabel. "Don't listen to her, shewasn't ill a bit." It was the only point on which Mabel and Jean reallydiffered.
Isobel came sailing in. Nothing could have been nicer than the way shegreeted them.
"Oh, Isobel, aren't you dying to hear me sing?" asked Jean. It neverdawned on her but that Isobel, who had been so keen to get her off to agood master, put art first and everything else afterwards.
Mrs. Leighton would never forget the way in which Mabel received her.Mabs had developed into a finely balanced woman. There was no sign ofher wanting to detract in the slightest from Isobel's happiness.
"Do let me see your ring. How pretty! And how it fits your hand, justa beautiful ring. Some engagement rings look as though they had onlybeen made for fat Jewesses. Don't they? I love those tiny diamonds setround the big ones. Where are you going for your honeymoon?"
"I'm going first for my things," said Isobel. "I've got no further thanthat. Miss Meredith and I are taking a week in London next week."
That was her triumph, that she had "squared" Miss Meredith. MissMeredith had really a lonely little heart beating beneath all her paltryambitions. Always she had been stretching for what was very difficultof attainment. She had stretched for a wife for Robin, and she hadstretched in vain. Then suddenly one day this undesirable Isobel hadasked her to go to London to help with her trousseaux. No one perhapsknew what a strange and unlooked-for delight filled her heart, whatgates of starchy reserve were opened to this new flood of gratituderising within her. Robin had always, although influenced by her in anintangible way, treated her as though she were a useful piece offurniture. He so invariably discounted her services; it had made herbelieve that her only chance of keeping him at all was in imposing onhim her hardest, most unlovable traits. That Isobel, of her own accord,should seek her advice, out of the crowd who were willing to confer it,really agitated her. From that moment she was Isobel's willing ally.
Isobel saw here the result of incalculable goodness as encouraged by Mr.Leighton. His words had stung her to an exalted notion of what shemight do to show him that she could confer as well as receive. Sheshould "ingratiate Sarah" in a thorough manner. The result of itsurprised her more than she would confess. There were other ways ofreceiving benefits than by grabbing with both hands it seemed. Isobelbegan to think that unselfish people probably remained unselfish becausethey found it a paying business. Nothing would ever really relieve hermind of its mercenary element.
The funniest experience of her life was this new friendship with Sarah.Mr. Leighton noted it, and she saw that he noted it. She went one dayto him in almost a contrite mood.
"I've begun to ingratiate Sarah," said she, "I believe I'm rather likingthe experience."
Mr. Leighton knew better than to lecture her at all. He thought indeedthat signs of relenting would not readily occur between either of them.
"Goodness is an admirable habit," he said lightly.
She thanked him for having fallen into her mood by this much.
"Well, anyhow, a little exhibition of it on my part has evidently been awelcome tonic to Sarah," she said.
Mabel and Jean found her easier than of yore. Only Elma carried thereserve formed by what she had gone through into the present moment ofrapture. They made Mabel play and Jean sing, and Adelaide Maud and Jeanperformed a duet together.
Cuthbert pranced about and applauded heavily, and Adelaide Maud swungher crisp skirts and bowed low in a professional manner.
"If I can't sing," said she, "I can bow. So do you mind if I do itagain?" So she bowed again.
It was quite different to the old Adelaide Maud, who aired such starchymanners in their drawing-room.
Lance came in by an early train.
"Heard you were home," said he, "and ran in to see if you'd take someBroken Hills, or Grand Trunks, or Consolidated Johnnies, you know."
He produced a note-book.
"Now Mrs. Leighton promised to buy a whole mine of shares the other day,and she hasn't done it. How am I to get on with my admirable firm, ifmy best clients fail me in this way?"
Jean exploded into laughter. Lance as a stockbroker, what next!
"You needn't laugh," he said. "I made twenty-five pounds for the materlast week. Not your mater, mine!"
"Don't listen to Lance's illegal practices," said Elma.
Lance struck an attitude in front of Mabel.
"Oh, mother," he said, "how you've growed. I'm afraid of you. Waittill you see what Maclean will say!"
"Maclean?"
"Yes. Now, Elma, don't pretend to look blank about it. It was you whotold me."
Elma groaned. (If it only were Mr. Maclean!)
"I told you nothing," she said. "You are not to be trusted, I've alwaysknown that, in Stock Exchange or out of it, I'd never tell you a singlething."
"Well, it was Aunt Katharine," said Lance with conviction. She had justappeared in the doorway.
"Well, well," she said in a fat, breathless way. "Well, you're home,and I am glad. Dear, how tall you both are! And is that the latest?"She looked at Mabel's hat. "Well, well. We've had enough trouble withyou away. Elma will be ready for none of that nonsense for a year ortwo, that's one comfort. Jean, you are quite fat. Living in otherpeople's houses seems to agree with you. Not the life we wereaccustomed to. Young people had to stay at home in my day."
"Now, Aunt Katharine," said Lance, who was a privileged person, "arethey your girls, or Mrs. Leighton's, that you lecture them so?"
"Look here, Lance," said Elma, "Aunt Katharine isn't a Broken Hill, or acon--consolidated Johnnie. You just leave her alone, will you?"
"Elma's become beastly dictatorial since she was ill," said Lancesavagely. "What's that confab in the corner?"
Mrs. Leighton was sitting with Adelaide Maud, and in the pause whichensued, everybody heard her say, "When Jean was a baby--no, it was whenElma was a baby, and Cuthbert, you know----" just as the girls wereafraid she would five long years ago.
"Oh," said Cuthbert from the other end of the room, "my dear mother, ifyou go on with that----"
"I can't imagine why they never want to know what they did when theywere babies," said Mrs. Leighton, in an innocent manner. She dislikedbeing stopped in any of these reminiscences. Adelaide Maud's eyesdanced. "They were so much nicer when they were babies," sighed Mrs.Leighton.
Then she turned round on them all.
"You two girls have been home for an hour or more, and you never askedafter your dear father."
Mabel giggled. Jean looked very serious.
Elma said suddenly, "They are hiding something, mummy," and the secretwas out.
Mr. Leighton had met them pretty nearly half way. He had travelled withthem, and in town had seen them into the train for Ridgetown.
"And he told me," said Mrs. Leighton, "that he had an important meetingwhich would keep him employed for the better part of the day."
"So he had," said Mabel.
"It's just like John," said Mrs. Leighton to Aunt Katharine. "One mighthave known he wouldn't stay away from these girls."
She smiled largely as she remembered his protestations of the morning.
"Oh, well," said Aunt Katharine dingily, "it would have been nicer ofhim to have told you. You never were very firm with John."
Robin Meredith came in the evening when they were assembled with Mr.Leighton in the drawing-room and the girls were playing once more. Theyplayed and sang with a fine new confidence and abandonment which made upto Mr. Leighton for long weary months of wa
iting. Mabel, mostly onaccount of her father's commendation, was quite composed and cheerful asshe shook hands with Robin. Robin would not have minded the composure,but the cheerfulness wounded him a trifle. Mr. Leighton considered thathis future life had more promise in it now that he saw Robin unnerved.If it were not for the beautiful ease of Mabel's manner, he should havefelt uncertain as to the consequences of all that had happened. ButMabel was so serenely right in every way that his last fear melted.
Mabel herself began to wonder at her own placidity. She looked withthankfulness on the scene before her, all her family and Elma given backto her, every one loyal, untouched by the influence which she had sofeared before, Isobel going to be married to a man from whom she wasglad to feel herself freed, her home intact. Yet a bitter mist gatheredin her mind and obliterated the joyousness. How wicked of her--tocomplain with everything here so lovely before her.
No, not everything.
Mabel, in the darkness that night before falling asleep, held her handto her eyes. No, everything had not come back to her yet.