"Seen any Irish pictures?" Ted's tone was labouredly casual.
They were talking about the various picture galleries they had revelled in. Nell turned a suspicious eye on him; she was beginning to know that casual tone. He had used it when he had suggested that Denis might exercise Rowena for him—"Pity to let her eat her head off in the stable, and I'm off for the day to a cousin who's passing through town on her way to Paris." He had used it too in connection with flowers and sweets, and on appearing in a dog-cart one day had observed—"Struck me—room for all—squeeze acushlum in anywhere—pity to waste it."
So now Nell responded with a "Why?"
"Oh, nothing. I was thinking—chap sent me tickets for private show—pity to waste 'em—Neil O'Donoghue's pictures, you know—"
"Oh, Ted, the Irish landscape man?"
He nodded.
"Teddie, you angel! Oh, I'll use your tickets. There's no false modesty about me, when you hold out a bait like that! Can we go now—now?"
"Rather! Look here, Nell, you—I mean you will let me— Jolly place just close by—give you ripping luncheons! You will all come, won't you?"
"Oh! Well, you know—"
"Oh, I say, be a brick, Nell!"
She laughed out.
"I was only hesitating because I felt I ought to! I won't be polite with you ever again, Ted! You do look so abjectly miserable. I'd love to end up like that!"
"That's all right. I'll just scoot round to the bank and tell Denis to meet us outside at half-past one. Will you all be ready when I get back?"
"I should think we will indeed."
When he came back they met him at the gate.
"I'm not coming, Ted," said Nell, buttoning her glove.
He smiled.
"Good-bye, then."
"You see, we've given Sarah a holiday, and Aunt Kezia would faint if she knew we'd left the house unguarded."
"There's Kate Kearney."
"Oh! You cruel boy! Why, Sheila Pat took her into the maids next door. You don't think we'd leave her all alone, do you? No, I'm going to stay and guard the house. Do hurry, we're missing precious moments."
Sheila Pat led the way into the picture gallery, lured on by a glimpse of a large water-colour painting—just a bit of her own Emerald Isle. How they enjoyed those pictures!
"Oh, Teddie, they're beautiful—beautiful! Can't you see how he loves every bit he paints? He's got the spirit of it all—the meaning—so beautifully! Look at that dear, misty bit, over there, with the sun breaking through! Isn't it glorious? She never cries without a laugh at the end of it, you know! And those mountains there—so mysterious—so silent! And the little stream laughing up at them—it's such an impudent little stream—all laughter and ripples and sun-flecks—no awing that—" Her breath caught suddenly and she stopped.
Sheila Pat said never a word from the moment she entered the gallery to the moment she left it. She studied the paintings alone, her odd little face absorbed. But when they left the place, and saw Denis just coming towards them, she made a sudden, wild little run at him, and caught hold of his arm. He lifted her up.
"Take my hat off for me, asthore!"
It was rather a silent luncheon party at first, but Denis soon altered that.
Ted insisted on presenting them with a huge box of chocolates at the end of lunch.
"Now for two hansoms," he said, when they came out. "There's the horse for me!"
"Um," observed Denis, as the cab drew up, "don't think much of him. Forelegs a bit groggy. Hi! Here!" he shouted to another driver. "Now that's a cute little beast if you like!"
Ted preferred his own choice.
"Race you to No. 35!" Denis exclaimed. "Bet I beat you!"
"Done!"
Nell, the Atom, and Ted hurried into one hansom; Molly and Denis into the other.
"Double fare if you beat that!" Denis shouted.
"Same here!" yelled Ted.
Off they went.
It was a close and very exciting race. Denis's horse seemed the likeliest to win at first. He led all along Regent Street; then in a block at the Circus Ted's driver manoeuvred cleverly and got in front. Then for a while they raced neck by neck. Round the corners they rocked.
"By Jove, this chap can drive!" ejaculated Ted, as they rocked round a corner, shaving the curb, and gaining a yard or two on the other hansom. From that came fragments of angry shouts. "Idiot!—drive a cow!—afraid of— 'Tisn't a funeral, man!"
"This is Henley Road," cried Nell, "and we're still leading!"
There was a final mad and unlawful spurt, and Ted's hansom leading by a yard or two, they dashed up in style before a pair of incredulous, horrified eyes watching their mad approach from Mrs. Barclay's drawing-room window. Moreover, the window was open, and a pair of ears, as incredulous and horrified as the eyes, listened to a babel of laughter and talk, to arguments on the horses' and drivers' merits.
Nell broke in suddenly, "Good gracious, how are we to get in?"
There was a pause.
"Allow me to scratchulate my head and ruminate," Denis observed.
Ted suggested: "How about the old German? When does he come in? I suppose he has a key?"
"He's gone away till Monday!"
"I have it," ejaculated Denis; "I, even I, will climb that passage gate and effect a burglarious—oh, my prophetic soul, my—aunt!"
A voice—an awful, laughter-killing voice, smote upon their startled ears.
"So," it said, in accents hard and cold, "this is the way you behave in my absence!"
She came slowly down the steps of the next-door house. Denis strode to open the gate, hat in hand.
"How are you, Aunt Kezia? Quite an unexpected pleasure!"
Ted raised his hat.
She took no notice of either salutation.
"May I ask how you intend to enter the house?"
"With your key, Aunt Kezia. Could things have happened more fortunately?" The twinkle in his gay blue eye was irresistible. "You arrive at the crucial moment—a ministering angel—a fairy godmother—"
"Be quiet, sir! You are impertinent! And my latchkey," a dull pink spread slowly over her face, "is packed in my box, and my box is coming on this evening. I could not dream that I should need my key at half-past two o'clock, the time I arrived home!"
He winked at Nell.
"Do you always pack your key, Aunt Kezia?" in an innocent little voice.
"No! Once more, may I inquire how you intend to enter the house?"
"You see that wooden gate? I will climb it—Excelsior—or perish in the attempt! Once over that, I can enter by the kitchen or the passage door."
"So you did not even trouble to lock them?"
"Sure, then, how would we be getting in if we had?"
"It was me!" burst out Nell, and her voice trembled.
"I!" said Miss Kezia.
"Fare thee well! I go to attack bolts and bars for you!"
He made for the gate, which only opened from the inside, swarmed airily up, and disappeared with a wave of his hand.
"Is Miss Hadlow quite well now, Aunt Kezia?" queried Nell, breaking the awful silence.
"No! When I read in your letter that still Mrs. Barclay had not returned, I considered it my duty to come back! It is well I did so!"
"I must be off," said Ted, turning to shake hands with Nell.
"Will you please to remain, Master Lancaster? I wish to have some questions answered once we get into the house."
That emphasised "Master" tickled him hugely; he gave Nell's arm a surreptitious pinch as he responded courteously that he would be pleased to stay.
"I'm sorry we kept you waiting, Aunt Kezia," began Nell again, valiantly.
"Eileen, I do not wish to speak to any of you till we get inside the house!"
Nell gave a little helpless gurgle, and tried to turn it into a cough. So they stood in dead silence and looked at each other. Nell felt that in another moment she would shriek aloud with mirth. Sheila Pat's small shoulders shook every now and then, and Sheila Pat's eyes studied Miss Kezia's face with a most unholy glee in their wicked depths. Suddenly Molly, in a paroxysm of nervousness, burst out:—
"Did you enjoy yourself, Aunt Kezia?"
There was a little dreadful pause.
Then—"I do not go to nurse my sick friends for enjoyment, Molly!"
Nell clutched Ted's arm despairingly, and then suddenly, glancing wildly about to keep her eyes from the comical little group, she caught sight of Denis's wicked face peering at them from Herr Schmidt's window. He met her eye, winked, and rolled away from the window in roars of laughter.
She struggled—she pinched Ted's arm cruelly—and she glared, fascinated, at that window. In a minute he reappeared, his eyes wet, studied them a moment, and rolled away again, roaring. His face was irresistible. She could see how he was roaring. She gave one last frantic pinch of Ted's arm, and burst out into wild laughter—hopeless, unmistakable, helpless laughter.
Ted looked at her, then at Miss Kezia's crimson face, and leant helplessly against the front door. Poor Molly made the most awful sounds in her agitated efforts not to laugh, and Sheila Pat's face grew momentarily more impish. Then the front door was opened with a suspicious suddenness, and Ted went headlong in—Denis dodged—he stumbled and staggered into the wall, where he recovered his equilibrium, and stood ruefully rubbing his head.
"All right, old man, I'll remember it!" he declared.
Nell fled ignominiously, laughing and shaking, up the stairs and into the Stronghold, and banged the door. Down to the others there floated a long ripple of helpless laughter.
They followed Miss Kezia into the morning room, and there she turned and faced them.
Ted looked about him interestedly. He was distinctly amused; to be held up like this and lectured as if he were a naughty little boy was new to him, and he enjoyed it immensely.
"One of you go up and fetch Eileen—no, not you, Denis! Or you, Master Lancaster! You go, Molly."
Molly hesitated, in distress. She knew that, once alone with Nell, she would never be able to regain her seriousness.
Ted took a step forward, "Mayn't I, please?" he asked meekly.
"Did you not hear me, Molly?"
"Y-yes, Aunt Kezia."
She hurried from the room, banged her elbow against the door, and went upstairs. She opened the door of the Stronghold about an inch, and called through, all in one agitated breath:—
"You're to come down, and oh, don't laugh, Nell!"
"I can't, M-Molly! I s-simply can't!"
"You must! Oh, do be serious!"
There was a pause.
"What are you all doing down there, Molly?"
"Standing—"
There was a ripple of laughter from the other side of the door.
"Oh, don't! I can see it! I—I can't come."
Molly had started giggling directly Nell's laugh reached her.
"Oh, Nell, don't be—so mean! You—you're making me laugh!"
"Why don't you come in?"
"I daren't!"
Inside and outside the door there was laughter then. Then a despairing—
"You go down, M-Molly! I'll come in a minute!"
Molly fled.
"S-she's coming, Aunt Kezia." She gave a terrified giggle, and took her place next to the Atom.
There was a pause. All heard a light pattering step outside and glanced towards the door. Nothing happened.
Miss Kezia stood gaunt and grim; no one spoke. Denis's head drooped low; he had folded his hands meekly before him. The door handle was touched—there was another pause—then it was turned abruptly, suddenly, and Nell marched in. Head back, looking straight in front of her, biting her lip, frowning, she marched in, took her stand beside Ted, and implored him in a shaky whisper not to make her l-laugh. Then Miss Kezia began. She started on the vulgarity and danger of racing in hansoms in London. She pointed out the trouble in which they might have involved their drivers. She emphasised the scandal there would have been had they been pursued by the police, and Sheila Pat's face grew full of longing. From hansoms she went on to the awful iniquity of having left the house unguarded; from that to Sarah's holiday, of which she disapproved strongly. From Sarah's holiday she ranged austerely to grease stains, untidiness, foolish hilarity, and hysteria. She threw in various uncomplimentary remarks on feather-heads, untrustworthiness, rowdyism, and other things of a similar nature, and then in a final tone she wound up:—
"I shall forbid all intercourse between you and Master Lancaster for a month!"
There was a sudden movement, an uplifting of heads, a very definite and unmistakable change in the faces confronting her.
"Aunt Kezia—" Denis began, and his tone left nothing to the imagination with regard to the nature of the thing he meant to say. Miss Kezia cut in with sudden and very wise haste:—
"No, I shall not do that, but I shall write to your parents by this mail, and tell them how you failed to behave with any decorum in my absence. Now you may go."
They did go. They fled.