Jan and Her Job Part 26

"I don't think I've any views. R. L. S. summed up the whole duty of children ages ago, and it's our business to see that they do it--that's all. Don't you remember:

A child should always say what's true, And speak when he is spoken to, And behave mannerly at table: At least as far as he is able.

It's no use to expect too much, is it?"

"If you expect to get the second injunction carried out in the case of your niece you're a most optimistic person. For three weeks now I've been perambulating Kensington Gardens with those children, and I have never in the whole course of my life entered into conversation with so many strangers, and it's always she who begins it. Then complications arise and I have to intervene. I don't mind policemen and park-keepers and roadmen, but I rather draw the line at idly benevolent old gentlemen who join our party and seem to spend the whole morning with us...."

"But, Meg, that never happens when I'm with you. I confess I've left you to it this last week...."

"And what am I here for except to be left to it--I don't mean that anyone's rude or pus.h.i.+ng--but Miss Tancred _is_ so friendly, and I'm not dignified and awe-inspiring like you, you great big Jan; and the poor men are encouraged, directly and deliberately encouraged, by your niece.

I never knew a child with such a continual flow of conversation."

"Poor Meg," said Jan, "you won't have much more of it. Little Fay _is_ a handful, I confess; but I always feel it must be a bit hard to be hushed continually--and just when one feels particularly bright and sparkling, to have all one's remarks cut short...."

"You needn't pity that child. No amount of hus.h.i.+ng has any effect; you might just as well hush a blackbird or a thrush. Don't look so worried, Jan. Did Mr. Ledgard say anything about Hugo in that letter to-night?"

"Only that he was known to have left Karachi in a small steamer going round the coast, but after that nothing more. Mr. Ledgard has a friend in the Police, and even there they've heard nothing lately. I think myself the Indian Government _wants_ to lose sight of Hugo. He's inconvenient and disgraceful, and they'd like him blotted out as soon as possible."

"What else does Mr. Ledgard say? He seems to write good long letters."

"He is coming home at the end of April for six months."

"Oh ... then we shall see him, I suppose?"

"I hope so."

Meg looked keenly at Jan, who was staring into the fire, her eyes soft and dreamy; and almost as if she was unconsciously thinking aloud, she said: "I do hope, if Hugo chooses to turn up, he'll wait till Mr.

Ledgard is back in England."

"You think he could manage him?"

"I know he could."

"Then let us pray for his return," said Meg.

The clock on the mantelpiece struck eleven.

"Bed-time," said Meg, "but I must have just one cigarette first. That's what's so lovely about being with you, Jan--you don't mind. Of course I'd never do it before the children."

"You wouldn't shock them if you did. Fay smoked constantly."

Meg lit her cigarette and clearly showed her real enjoyment. She had taken to it first when she was about fifteen, as she found it helped her to feel less hungry. Now it had become as much a necessity to her as to many men, and the long abstinence of term-time had always been a penance.

She made some good rings, and, leaning forward to look through them at Jan, said: "By the way, I must just tell you that for the last three afternoons we've met that Captain Middleton in the Gardens."

"Well?"

"And he talks everlastingly about his dog--that William Bloomsbury creature. I know _all_ the points of a bull-terrier now--'Well-set head gradually tapering to muzzle, which is very powerful and well-filled up in front of the eyes. Nose large and black. Teeth dead-level and big'

... oh! and reams more, every bit of him accurately described."

"I'm a little afraid of those teeth so 'dead-level and big'--I foresee trouble."

"Oh, no," said Meg easily. "He's evidently a most affectionate brute.

That young man puzzles me. He's manifestly devoted to the dog, but he's so sure he'd be stolen he'd rather have him away from him down at Wren's End than here with him, to run that risk."

"Surely," said Jan, "Kensington Gardens are some distance from St.

John's Wood."

"So one would think, but the rich and idle take taxis, and he seems to think he can in some way insure the welfare of his dog through the children and me."

"And what about the old gentlemen? Do they join the party as well?"

"Oh, dear no; no old gentlemen would dare to come within miles of us with that young man in charge of little Fay. He's like your Mr.

Ledgard--very protective."

"I like him for being anxious about his dog, but I'm not quite so sure that I approve of the means he takes to insure its happiness."

"I didn't encourage him in the least, I a.s.sure you. I pointed out that he most certainly ought not to be walking about with a nurse and two children. That the children without the nurse would be all right, but that my being there made the whole thing highly inexpedient, and _infra dig_."

"Meg!... you didn't!"

"I did, indeed. There was no use mincing matters."

"And what did he say?"

"He said, 'Oh, that's all bindles'--whatever that may mean."

"You mustn't go to the Gardens alone any more. I'll come with you to-morrow, or, better still, we'll all go to Kew if it's fine."

"I _should_ be glad, though I grudge the fares; but you needn't come. I know how busy you are, with Hannah away and so much to see to--and what earthly use am I if I can't look after the children without you?"

"You do look after the children without me for hours and hours on end. I could never trust anyone else as I do you."

"I _am_ getting to manage them," Meg said proudly; "but just to-day I must tell you--it was rather horrid--we came face to face with the Trents in the Baby's Walk. Mrs. Trent and Lotty, the second girl, the big, handsome one--and he evidently knows them...."

"Who evidently knows them?"

"Captain Middleton, silly! (I told you he was with us, talking about his everlasting dog)--and they greeted him with effusion, so he had to stop.

But you can imagine how they glared at me. Of course I walked on with Tony, but little Fay had his hand--I was wheeling the go-cart thing and she stuck firmly to him, and I heard her interrupting the conversation all the time. He followed us directly, I'll say that for him, but it was a bad moment ... You see, they had a right to glare...."

"They had nothing of the kind. I wish I got the chance of glaring at them. Daddie _saw_ Mrs. Trent; he explained everything, and she said she quite understood."

"She would, to him, he was so nice always; but you see, Jan, I know what she believes and what she has said, and what she will probably say to Captain Middleton if she gets the chance."

Meg's voice broke. "Of course I don't care----"

She held her tousled head very high and stuck out her sharp little chin.