CHAPTER XV
THE MYSTERY OF MYSTERIES--A GIRL!
Mr. Ablethorpe appeared to have had a much better time of it with MissConstantia than I had had with her sister--perhaps, because she wasyounger by some minutes, and was quite conscious of being pretty, sodidn't need to be told. Yet, when you come to think of it, I had donea heap more for Harriet Caw, than the Hayfork Minister for her sister.Had I not rushed to defend her from no less a foe than Mad Jeremy? Andthere were precious few in the two parishes of Breckonside andBreckonton who would have done the like. So she need not have runupstairs when she got home, pushing her step-grandmother aside andsaying: "Out of the way, Susan Fergusson!" Neither had she any need toslam the door of her room, for it was her twin sister's as well ashers, at any rate.
And though I did not like Constantia so well to start with, I must saythat her conduct was a great contrast to that of her sister Harriet. Icould not help remarking it. She came quite peaceably to the door withMr. Ablethorpe. Then she went back and found his hat for him, which hehad forgotten. And she stood smiling and waving adieux under thebunches of purple creepers about the porch--like--well, I declare, likethe picture of "Good-bye, Sweetheart, Good-bye!" in the "Keepsake" book.
And then, thinking it over, I took it all back and preferred in myheart the slam of Harriet's door. There was more meaning to it.
But Mr. Ablethorpe did not appear to notice. He thought that he hadsown good seed on very promising soil.
"She seemed quite in favour of the Eastward position," he saidthoughtfully, "and she understands our argument in favour of the'Missale Romanum' and with regard to irregularly ordained clergy. Therest may follow in time."
And as for me, I hoped to goodness it would.
After that the Hayfork was very thoughtful all the way to thecrossroads, where we separated, he to return to his lodging in OverBreckonton and I to go back to father's. Well, not just directly, ofcourse. I had to look in at Nance Edgar's cottage at the Bridge End.It was my duty. Elsie was there, sitting reading by the window. Shehad been doing German or something with the schoolmaster's sister, and,for a wonder, was quite pleased to see me. She mostly wasn't, if Iinterrupted her when she was "studying." "Studying" with Elsieconsisted in neither talking yourself, nor letting any other body talk.
The first thing that struck me was how much prettier Elsie was to lookat than Harriet Caw, and, of course, than her sister. I told her so,thinking that she would be pleased. But instead, she faced about atonce and laid down her book.
"Who is Harriet Caw?" she asked in a kind of icebergy voice, quitedifferently pitched from her usual.
Then I began, pleased as a kitten with a wool ball, to tell her allabout it--how Mr. Ablethorpe had come and asked me off for the day frommy father, how we had gone and helped at the haymaking. Then I madeout a long yarn about finding the little package of rings which Mr.Ablethorpe had taken so carefully away with him.
"But they were more yours than his!" cried Elsie suddenly; "you shouldhave brought them here to me. Then we would have found out what theywere, and if they had anything to do with the--with Harry Foster. Wewere the first who found out anything, and now you go off with Mr.Ablethorpe----"
"Yes, Elsie," I said, a little taken aback by her tone, "but he seemedto know all about where to look, and he wouldn't tell me anything,though I asked."
"No, of course not," said Elsie sharply; "there will be a reward, youmay depend. Then he will get it instead of you!"
I cried out against this, saying that she was not fair to Mr.Ablethorpe. But at the bottom of my heart I was not a bit sorry. TheHayfork Minister had such a curly head, and people made such a fussabout him--especially the women--that I wasn't a bit sorry to find thatElsie was not of their mind.
This gave me some assurance to go on.
"Well, and what did you do after that?" she said. And I was all onfire to tell her about the two granddaughters of Caleb Fergusson, whocame all the way from London--how we had tea with them, how Mr.Ablethorpe stayed and talked with the one who thought no end ofherself--that is to say, with Constantia, while I was compelled to goand keep the other one, Harriet, from getting into mischief.
At the very first word Elsie sat up straight in her chair. Then, eventhough I said nothing (it was no use entering into details) aboutHarriet Caw's taking my arm, Elsie pinched her lips and turned up hernose.
"You would like her awfully!" I said. "She's as nice as can be."
"Oh!" was all that Elsie said, and she reached for the knitting whichlay within reach.
"Very likely!" she added as she adjusted the stitches, some of whichhad slipped off, owing to my having sat down on it when I first came in.
"Yes," I continued, in a kind of quick, fluttering voice--I could hearso much myself--"she comes from London, but she does not put on anyairs. _And she does not like me at all!_"
"Ah," said Elsie, "and pray how did you find that out?"
So I told her all about Harriet running away because I was so stupid,and her meeting with Mad Jeremy. I said as little about my going athim with an open knife as I could. For, after all, that was a foolishthing to do. But I told Elsie about Harriet Caw fainting, and as muchas I could remember about Harriet running home and slamming herself inher room.
And all the time the atmosphere in that room was getting more and morechilly, while Elsie herself would have frozen a whole shipful of beefand mutton right through the tropics.
"Well," I said when I had finished my tale, "she may have got a temper,but she is a nice girl and you will like her. We shall go and see herto-morrow--I told her about you, Elsie."
She flashed a look at me--like striking a vesta at night, it was.
"And pray, what did you tell her about me?"
"I told her that you were pretty--so did Mad Jeremy. And I told her,besides, that you would be sure to take to one another. Now, will yougo and see her to-morrow?"
Slowly Elsie gathered up all that belonged to her in Nance Edgar'slittle sitting-room--her books, her work, and a hat that had beenthrown carelessly on a chair.
"No," she said, the words clicking against one another like lumps ofice in a tumbler, "no, I will not go and call upon Miss Harriet Caw,from London. But there is nothing to prevent your going, Mr. JosephYarrow!"
And she in her turn swept out and slammed the door.
I sat there in Nance Edgar's winking firelight looking at my fingersone by one, and not sure of the count.
If any one will please tell me what a girl will say or do in any givencircumstances--well, I'll be obliged to him, that's all. I don'tbelieve any fellow was ever so abused and browbeat in one day by girlsbefore. And all for nothing. That is the funny part of it. For whathad I done? Answer me that, if you please. Nothing--just nothing!