"And then"--Mrs. Brownlow made bold to go on for a moment--"such a funny mark! Many people wouldn"t like it, I"m sure."
Lady Meg turned sharply on her. "Mark? What do you mean? What mark?"
"A mark on her face, you know. A round, red mark--"
"Big as a threepenny bit, pretty nearly," said the Squire.
"Where?"
"On her cheek."
"Where is the girl?" asked Lady Meg. Her whole demeanor had changed, her bored air had vanished. "She seemed fair excited," Mr. Byles reports.
Then she turned to the said Byles: "Find out where that girl is, and let me know. Don"t tell her anything about it. I"ll go to her."
"But let me send for her--" began the Squire, courteously.
"No, give me my own way. I don"t want her frightened."
The Squire gave the orders she desired, and the last Mr. Byles heard as he left the room was from Lady Meg:
"Marks like that always mean something--eh, Pindar?"
No doubt Mr. Pindar agreed, but his reply is lost.
The girls in the avenue had made their plan. Sophy would not bow her head to Mrs. Smilker, nor longer eat the bread of benevolence embittered by servitude. She would go with Julia; she, too, would tread the boards--if only she could get her feet on them; and when did any girl seriously doubt her ability to do that? The pair were gay and laughing, when suddenly through the gate came Lady Meg and the spaniels--Lady Meg ahead as usual, and with a purposeful air.
"Who are they?" cried Sophy.
Hazleby is but twelve miles from Morpingham. Julia had been over to see the big house, and had sighted Lady Meg in the garden.
"It"s Lady Margaret Duddington," she whispered, rather in a fright.
There was time for no more. Lady Meg was upon them. Sophy was identified by her dress, and, to Lady Meg"s devouring eyes, by the mark.
"You"re the girl who"s been behaving so badly?" she said.
Seeing no profit in arguing the merits, Sophy answered "Yes."
At this point Julia observed one old gentleman nudge the other and whisper something; it is morally certain that Pindar whispered to Pikes: "Percival"s girl!"
"You seem to like your own way. What are you going to do? Say you"re sorry?"
"No. I"m not sorry. I"m going away."
"Come here, girl, let me look at you."
Sophy obeyed, walking up to Lady Meg and fixing her eyes on her face.
She was interested, not frightened, as it seemed. Lady Meg looked long at her.
"Going away? Where to?"
Julia spoke up. "She"s coming with me, please, Lady Margaret." Julia, it would seem, was a little frightened.
"Who are you?"
"Julia Robins. My mother lives there." She pointed to Woodbine Cottage.
"I--I"m on the stage--"
"Lord help you!" remarked Lady Meg, disconcertingly.
"Not at all!" protested Julia, her meaning plain, her expression of it faulty. "And I--I"m going to help her to--to get an engagement. We"re friends."
"What"s she going to do with that on the stage?" Lady Meg"s forefinger almost touched the mark.
"Oh, that"s all right, Lady Margaret. Just a little cold cream and powder--"
"Nasty stuff!" said Lady Meg.
A pause followed, Lady Meg still studying Sophy"s face. Then, without turning round, she made a remark obviously addressed to the gentlemen behind her:
"I expect this is Percival"s young person."
"Without a doubt," said Pikes.
"And Percival was right about her, too," said Pindar.
"Think so? I ain"t sure yet," said Lady Meg. "And at any rate I don"t care twopence about that. But--" A long pause marked a renewed scrutiny.
"Your name"s Sophy, isn"t it?"
"Yes." Sophy hesitated, then forced out the words: "Sophy Grouch."
"Grouch?"
"I said Grouch."
"Humph! Well, Sophy, don"t go on the stage. It"s a poor affair, the stage, begging Miss Julia"s pardon--I"m sure she"ll do admirably at it.
But a poor affair it is. There"s not much to be said for the real thing--but it"s a deal better than the stage, Sophy."
"The real thing?" Julia saw Sophy"s eyes grow thoughtful.
"The world--places--London--Paris--men and women--Lord help them! Come with me, and I"ll show you all that."
"What shall I do if I come with you?"
"Do? Eat and drink, and waste time and money, like the rest of us. Eh, Pindar?"
"Of course," said Mr. Pindar, with a placid smile.
"I sha"n"t be a--a servant again?"