Then he turned to her with some merely ba.n.a.l remark, and Louie, giving it all the answer it deserved, turned and left him.
That unspeakable loneliness had come upon her again.
Louie made no further attempt to talk to Mr. Jeffries. She watched another dance, heard Mr. Weston recite "The Raven," and then went to the cloakroom for her shawl. There she came upon Kitty Windus, who had found it necessary to do up her hair again.
"You surely aren"t going?" Kitty exclaimed. She herself was a-tremble with flirtation and happiness. "Why, you"re as bad as Mr. Jeffries!
Though I will admit that even _he_ came out of his sh.e.l.l for once. I shall begin to think Miriam"s right soon!" She gave Louie an arch look.
Louie"s opinion was that Mr. Jeffries had never been more completely concealed in his sh.e.l.l than he had been that even, but "Oh, has he gone?" she said indifferently.
"Yes, a few minutes ago. Isn"t everything going splendidly! Why, Mr.
Mackie"s a host in himself!"
"Quite," said Louie, pa.s.sing her shawl over her head.
"I suppose we shall see you in the morning?" said Kitty. "Everybody"s coming to help to clear away."
"Very well," said Louie.
And as the piano broke into the prelude to the waltz cotillion she left.
But she did not leave that dingy Holborn third floor, never to enter it again, without a grateful word to Mr. Mackie. She came upon him on a landing. His trousers were French-chalked almost to the knees with the vigour of his dancing, and for his next song he had put on a false nose with blue whiskers attached to it. He was making sure that the adornment did not interfere with his whistle.
"Good-bye, Mr. Mackie," said Louie, holding out her hand.
Mr. Mackie stopped the whistle. "What, you toddling, Miss Causton?" he said. "Why, we ain"t properly warmed up yet!"
"I must go. And"--she smiled almost fondly at him--"I should like to thank you."
Mr. Mackie was quite conscious of desert. "Not at all," he said. "You mean the "Gorgonzola Cheese," I suppose? Went all right, didn"t it?
Never known that song fail yet: it always gets "em----"
"Oh, for more than that. If you"re ever thinking of setting up a cure I daresay I could find you a few patients. You"re wonderful.
Good-bye."
"Say olive oil, but not good-bye--and Merry Christmas," said Mr.
Mackie.
But Louie knew that it was good-bye.
PART III
MORTLAKE ROAD
I
On a sunny morning in mid-January Louie Causton went to see, but not necessarily to be seen by, her father. Captain Cecil Chaffinger accompanied her. As they walked across Richmond Park they talked.
"You"re sure the walk isn"t too much for you, Mops?" said the Captain solicitously.
She pressed his arm. "No, I"m ever so much better for it."
"We could get a cart or something at the Star and Garter, you know."
"I"d much rather walk, Chaff. We can take the train back."
"All right, little Mops."
They walked for a few minutes in silence; then--
"That woman wasn"t--wasn"t a beast, was she?" Chaff asked.
"Mrs. Leggat?"
"If that"s her name. I mean, there was no row?"
"Not the least in the world."
The Captain tugged at his moustache. "H"m! Not like you. Ever leave anywhere without a row before, Mops?"
Louie laughed a little. "Now you mention it, I don"t think I ever did," she admitted. "But there wasn"t a word said. She knew, and I knew she knew. So I cleared out. That was all. She made me some beef-tea before I left."
Again they walked in silence.
The daintiest of h.o.a.r-frosts lay over the Park; on Putney Heath they had pa.s.sed skaters. The keen wind had reddened the Captain"s nose, and Louie could not help smiling as he took out his handkerchief for the twentieth time. She had remembered Mr. Mackie.
"Ought to have a silk one a day like this," Chaff grunted, blowing hard. "Makes you perfectly raw.... I say, dear old Mops----"
"What, old boy?"
"Anything _I_ could have done, you know----"
She squeezed his arm again. "I shall be giving you plenty to do presently. And you say he"s not a bad sort."
"Oh----" said the Captain doubtfully.
"Well, you"ll take me in, and then wait outside till I"ve seen for myself."
But at that Chaff rebelled. "Hanged if I do--dash it all, it"s a public-house! You"ll find me in the parlour or whatever it is."
"How old is he?"
"Let me see: he"ll be fifty. Yes, he"ll be fifty. Your mother"s fifty-four."
"You"ll remember your promise, Chaff?"