The Hoyden by Margaret Wolfe Hungerford (first ebook reader .txt) 📕

the short pathway that leads to the house.

In the hall quite a large number of people are assembled, and everyone runs toward them.

"Why, we thought you were lost," says Mrs. Chichester.

"Yes, so we were very nearly," says Mr. Gower, shaking his head and advancing into the hall with the languid airs of one who has just undergone a strange experience.

"But how--how?" They all crowd round him now.

"Poor aunt and I were nearly drowned," says Mr. Gower pathetically. He takes a step forward, and the water drips from his trousers. He looks back at Miss Gower. "Weren't we?" says he.

"But you are dripping!" cries Tita, "whilst Miss Gower seems quite dry. Dear Miss Gower," turning anxiously to that spinster, "I hope you are not wet."

"Ah! she was so nice, so _nice,"_ says Randal sweetly, "that she wouldn't let me do much for her. But if you will just look under her petticoats I am afraid you will----"

"Randal!" cries Miss Gower indignantly.

After this the spinster is hurried upstairs by many willing hands and is put to bed. Tita, on her way down from seeing her made comfortable, meets Randal redressed and dry and comfortable in the library.

"What does all this mean?" says she. "When you spoke this morning of taking Miss Gower out on the lake I--I did not suspect you of anything--but now----"

"Well, now, you shall hear the truth," says Gower. Whereupon he gives her a graphic account of the scene on the lake.

"I knew she'd take _that_ fence," says he. "And I was right; there wasn't even a jib."

"I wonder you aren't ashamed of yourself," says Tita indignantly.

"Don't wonder any more. I _am_ ashamed of myself. I'm so ashamed that I'm going at once to pay my debts."

"Oh, I like that!"

"Well, I am. I shall give my landlady five pounds out of her account."

"And the account?"

"I really think it must be about seventy or eighty by this time," says Mr. Gower thoughtfully. "However, it doesn't matter about that. She'll be awfully pleased to get the five pounds. One likes five pounds, you know, when one has lost all hope of ever getting it."

"Oh, go away!" says Tita. "You are a _horrid_ boy!"


CHAPTER VI.

HOW ALL THE HOUSE PARTY AT OAKDEAN GROW FRIVOLOUS IN THE ABSENCE OF THE LORD AND MASTER; AND HOW MRS. BETHUNE ENCOURAGES A GAME OF HIDE-AND-SEEK; AND HOW, AFTER MANY ESCAPES, TITA IS CAUGHT AT LAST.


"She has gone to bed," says Tita, reappearing in the drawing-room just as the clock strikes nine on the following evening.

"Thank goodness!" says Mrs. Chichester, _sotto voce_, at which Captain Marryatt laughs.

"She is not very ill, I hope?" says Margaret.

"Oh no! A mere headache."

"Bile!" suggests Mr. Gower prettily.

Tita looks angrily at him.

"What a hideous word that is!" says Mrs. Bethune, with a sneer. "It ought to be expunged from every decent dictionary. Fortunately," with a rather insolent glance at Randal, who is so openly a friend of Tita's, "very few people use it--in civilized society."

"And I'm one of them," says the young man, with deep self-gratulation. "I like to be in a minority--so choice, you know; so distinguished! But what, really," turning to Tita, "is the matter with poor, dear old auntie?"

"A chill, I should think," returns Tita severely. Has he forgotten all about yesterday's escapade? "She seemed to me very wet when she got home last evening."

"She was soaking," says Mr. Gower. "She didn't show it much, because when the water was rising in that wretched old boat--really, you know, Maurice ought to put respectable boats on his lake--she pulled up her----"

"Randal!"

"Well, she did!" says Randal, unabashed. "Don't glare at _me!_ I didn't pull up anything! I'd nothing to pull up, but she----" Here Mr. Gower gives way to wild mirth. "Oh, if you'd _seen_ her!" says he--"such spindleshanks!"

At this Marryatt gets behind him, draws a silken chair-back over his face, thus mercifully putting an end to his spoken recollections.

"If I were you, Tita, I should order Randal off to bed," says Margaret, who, I regret to say, is laughing. "He has been up quite long enough for a child of his years."

"Well--but, really, what is the matter with Miss Gower?" asks somebody.

"Temper," puts in Mrs. Bethune, with a shrug.

She is leaning back in an easy-chair, feeling and looking distinctly vexed. Maurice is away. This morning he had started for town to meet his mother, and bring her back with him for a short stay at Oakdean. He had gone away directly after breakfast, telling them all he would be home by the evening if possible; but he feared the journey would be too long for his mother, and that probably she would spend the night in town. In the meantime, if anything in the shape of a murder or an elopement should occur, they might telegraph to Claridge's. He had then turned and smiled at Tita.

"I leave them all in your care," he had said.

Was there meaning in his smile--was it a little entreaty to her to be "good" during his absence?

"Well, she's in bed, any way," says Tita; "and the question is, what shall we do now?"

"Dance!" says someone.

But they have been dancing every evening, and there seems nothing very special about that.

"I tell you what," says Tita; "let us have hide-and-seek!"

"Oh, how lovely!" cries Mrs. Chichester, springing to her feet. "What a heavenly suggestion!"

"Yes; two to hunt, and all the rest to hide in couples," says Tom Hescott.

It has occurred to him that he would like to hunt with Tita, or else to hide with her; and it might be managed. Margaret, who happens to be looking at him, makes a slight movement forward.

"Perhaps we should disturb Miss Gower!" says she anxiously.

"Oh no!" says Mrs. Bethune quickly. "Her room is in the north wing. If we confine our game to this part of the house, she can never hear us."

"Still, it seems such a silly thing to do!" says Margaret nervously.

She distrusts Marian where Tita is concerned. Why should she advocate the game--she who is the embodiment of languor itself, to whom any sort of running about would mean discomfort?

"Dear Margaret," says Mrs. Bethune, in a low voice, but a distinct one--one quite loud enough for Colonel Neilson to hear, who is standing near Miss Knollys--"don't give way to it; don't let it conquer you--_too_ soon!"

"It?--what?" asks Margaret unconsciously.

"Middle age!" sweetly, and softly always, but with a rapid glance at Neilson. She leans back and smiles, enjoying the quiet blush that, in spite of her, rises to Margaret's cheek. "I feel it coming," says she. "Even _I_ feel it. But why encourage it? Why not let these children have their game, without a check from us who are _so_ much older?"

"That is not the question," says Margaret coldly, who has now recovered herself. "My thought was that perhaps Maurice might not approve of this most harmless, if perhaps----"

"Frivolous performance. Of course, if you are going to manage Maurice and Maurice's wife," with a strange laugh, "there is no more to be said. But I wish you joy of the last task. And as for Maurice," with a curl of her lips, _"he_ is not a prig."

"Well, neither am I, I hope," says Margaret, with perfect temper.

She turns away, Colonel Neilson, who is furious with Mrs. Bethune, following her. As for the latter, she looks after Margaret until she is out of sight, and for once, perhaps, is sorry for her rudeness. She likes Margaret, but she is out of heart to-night and irritable. The absence of Rylton, the coming of her aunt, all tend to disturb her. And Rylton had gone without a word, a look even!--he who always dwelt upon her words, had studied her looks; he had not given her one farewell sign. She had waited to see if he would give one to Tita; but he had not--at least, nothing in particular--nor had Tita run out to the hall to see him off. She had blown him a little kiss from behind the urn, which he had accepted calmly, and that was all!

"Come on," says Randal excitedly; "Miss Hescott and I will hunt the lot of you! But look here, you must all keep to the parts of the house agreed on. I am not going to have my beloved aunt descending upon me in a nightcap and a wrapper!"

"Well, you must give us three minutes," says Tita, "and you mustn't stir until you hear someone cry, 'Coo-ee!' You understand now, Minnie."

"I know! I'll keep him in hand," says Miss Hescott.

"And he mustn't peep," says Mrs. Chichester.

"Good gracious! what a mean thought!" says Mr. Gower, who is already laying plans in his own mind as to how he is to discomfit the hiders, and win laurels for himself as a searcher.

"Well, off we go!" cries Mrs. Chichester, flying out of the room, Captain Marryatt after her.

Hide-and-seek as a game leaves little to be desired. Even Margaret, who had said so much against it, enters into the spirit of it presently, and knows the throes of anguish when the hunter draws nigh her hiding-place, and the glow of joy when she has safely eluded him and flown to the den, without a clutch upon so much as the end of her garments. Indeed, all have given themselves up to the hour and its excitement, except only Marian Bethune, who, whilst entering into the game with apparently all the zest of the others, is ever listening--listening---- He had said he _might_ come home to-night. And it is now close on eleven! In ten minutes, if at all, he will be here. If only she could so manage as to----

They are all now standing once more, laughing, talking, in the small drawing-room, preparatory to another start.

"Who'll hunt now?" asks Colonel Neilson, who has been far and away the best pursuer up to this.

"Why not Tita and Mr. Hescott?" says Marian suddenly, vivaciously. She seems to have lost all her indolence. "They have not been hunting once to-night."

"Yes; that is true," says Captain Marryatt.

"I hate hunting and I like hiding," says Tita. "Colonel Neilson, you and Margaret can be our pursuers this time. Come, Tom! come, all of you!"

Mrs. Bethune for a moment frowns, and then a quick light comes back to her eyes. Even _better_ so--if Maurice should arrive. She had planned that they--those two, Tita and her cousin--should be together on his arrival, should he come; and now, now they will be _hiding_ together in all probability! Oh for Maurice to come now--now!

She has evaded her own partner in the game, and, slipping away unobserved, is standing in one of the windows of the deserted library--a window that opens on the avenue--listening for the sound of horses' hoofs. In five minutes Maurice will be here, if he comes at all to-night, and as yet they have scarcely started on their game of hide-and-seek. She had heard Tita whisper to Mr. Hescott something about the picture-gallery--she had caught the word--a delightful place in semi-darkness, and with huge screens here and there. Oh, if only Tita could be found hiding behind one with Mr. Hescott!

She presses her hot cheek against the pane