"We must get in some coal for the parlour," remarked Madge.
"Yes; and who"s going to make coal fires and clean the grate and fetch boxes of coal?" said Charity. "I don"t mind makin" a wood fire, and keepin" it up; wood"s clean; but coals I do hate."
There was general silence.
"I"ll do it," said Lois.
"I guess you will! You look like it."
"Somebody must; and I may as well as anybody."
"You could get Tim Bodson to carry coal for you," remarked Mrs.
Armadale.
"So we could; that"s an excellent idea; and I don"t mind the rest at all," said Lois. "I like to kindle fires. But maybe she"ll want soft coal. I think it is likely. Mrs. Wishart never will burn hard coal where she sits. And soft coal is easier to manage."
"It"s dirtier, though," said Charity. "I hope she ain"t going to be a fanciful woman. I can"t get along with fancy folks. Then she"ll be in a fidget about her eating; and I can"t stand that. I"ll cook for her, but she must take things as she finds them. I can"t have anything to do with tomfooleries."
"That means custards?" said Lois, laughing. "I like custards myself.
I"ll take the tomfoolery part of the business, Charity."
"Will you?" said Charity. "What else?"
"I"ll tell you what else, girls. We must have some new tablecloths, and some napkins."
"And we ought to have our bonnets before anybody comes," added Madge.
"And I must make some covers and mats for the dressing table and washstand in the best room," said Lois.
"Covers and mats! What for? What ails the things as they are? They"ve got covers."
"O, I mean white covers. They make the room look so much nicer."
"I"ll tell you what, Lois; you can"t do everything that rich folks do; and it"s no use to try. And you may as well begin as you"re goin" on.
Where are you going to get money for coal and bonnets and tablecloths and napkins and curtains, before we begin to have the board paid in?"
"I have thought of that. Aunt Marx will lend us some. It won"t be much, the whole of it."
"I hope we aren"t buying a pig in a poke," said Charity.
"Mother, do you think it will worry you to have her?" Lois asked tenderly.
"No, child," said the old lady; "why should it worry me?"
So the thing was settled, and eager preparations immediately set on foot. Simple preparations, which did not take much time. On her part Mrs. Barclay had some to make, but hers were still more quickly despatched; so that before November had run all its thirty days, she had all ready for the move. Mr. Dillwyn went with her to the station and put her into the car. They were early, so he took a seat beside her to bear her company during the minutes of waiting.
"I would gladly have gone with you, to see you safe there," he remarked; "but I thought it not best, for several reasons."
"I should think so!" Mrs. Barclay returned dryly. "Philip, I consider this the very craziest scheme I ever had to do with!"
"Precisely; your being in it redeems it from that character."
"I do not think so. I am afraid you are preparing trouble for yourself; but your heart cannot be much in it yet!"
"Don"t swear that," he said.
"Well, it cannot, surely. Love will grow on scant fare, I acknowledge; but it must have a little."
"It has had a little. But you are hardly to give it that name yet. Say, a fancy."
"Sensible men do not do such things for a fancy. Why, Philip, suppose I am able to do my part, and that it succeeds to the full; though how I am even to set about it I have at present no idea; I cannot a.s.sume that these young women are ignorant, and say I have come to give them an education! But suppose I find a way, and suppose I succeed; what then?
_You_ will be no nearer your aim--perhaps not so near."
"Perhaps not," he said carelessly.
"Phil, it"s a very crazy business! I wouldn"t go into it, only I am so selfish, and the plan is so magnificent for me."
"That is enough to recommend it. Now I want you to let me know, from time to time, what I can send you that will either tend to your comfort, or help the work we have in view. Will you?"
"But where are you going to be? I thought you were going to Europe?"
"Not till spring. I shall be in New York this winter."
"But you will not come to--what is the name of the place--where I am going?" she asked earnestly.
"No," said he, smiling. "Shall I send you a piano?"
"A piano! Is music intended to be in the programme? What should I do with a piano?"
"That you would find out. But you are so fond of music--it would be a comfort, and I have no doubt it would be a help."
Mrs. Barclay looked at him with a steady gravity, under which lurked a little sparkle of amus.e.m.e.nt.
"Do you mean that I am to teach your Dulcinea to play? Or to sing?"
"The use of the possessive p.r.o.noun is entirely inappropriate."
"Which _is_ she, by the way? There are three, are there not? How am I to know the person in whom I am to be interested?"
"By the interest."
"That will do!" said Mrs. Barclay, laughing. "But it is a very mad scheme, Philip--a very mad scheme! Here you have got me--who ought to be wiser--into a plan for making, not history, but romance. I do not approve of romance, and not at all of making it."
"Thank you!" said he, as he rose in obedience to the warning stroke of the bell. "Do not be romantic, but as practical as possible. I am.
Good-bye! Write me, won"t you?"
The train moved out of the station, and Mrs. Barclay fell to meditating. The prospect before her, she thought, was extremely misty and doubtful. She liked neither the object of Mr. Dillwyn"s plan, nor the means he had chosen to attain it; and yet, here she was, going to be his active agent, obedient to his will in the matter. Partly because she liked Philip, who had been a dear and faithful friend of her husband; partly because, as she said, the scheme offered such tempting advantage to herself; but more than either, because she knew that if Philip could not get her help he was more than likely to find some other which would not serve him so well. If Mrs. Barclay had thought that her refusal to help him would have put an end to the thing, she would undoubtedly have refused. Now she pondered what she had undertaken to do, and wondered what the end would be. Mr. DilIwyn had been taken by a pretty face; that was the old story; he retained wit enough to feel that something more than a pretty face was necessary, therefore he had applied to her; but suppose her mission failed? Brains cannot be bought. Or suppose even the brains were there, and her mission succeeded? What then? How was the wooing to be done? However, one thing was certain--Mr. Dillwyn must wait. Education is a thing that demands time. While he was waiting, he might wear out his fancy, or get up a fancy for some one else. Time was everything.