Black, White and Gray Part 15

Becky gave a solemn shake of the head.

"He's more than nice," she said; "he's just splendid. Do you know what he did for father?"

Mr Price did not know; and Becky, strengthened and refreshed by her dinner, sat up eagerly on her sofa and told him the whole story, to which he listened very gravely.

"Well, that's a very good job," he said, as she ended. "We must hope Mr Tuvvy will be able to keep straight. But there's lots of public-houses in Upwell, you know, as well as the Cross Keys at Fieldside, to tempt a man."

"They don't matter near so much," said Becky. "Father don't as a rule want to go out again after he's once home. Not unless," she added, with a little sigh, "it's was.h.i.+ng day."

Dr Price gave a slow smile, took out his watch, and jumped to his feet with a suddenness that made Becky start.

"I ought to be seven miles off by this," he said, striding to the door.

"Good-bye, Becky."

He seemed to Becky to make one spring from the door to his horse's back, and to gallop furiously up the street the next minute. There were one or two sharp, shrill shrieks from Snip and Snap as they tore after him, and then all was silent.

Dr Price's visits often ended in this abrupt way, but Becky wished he could have stayed a little longer this afternoon, for she was just going to ask him to take a message for her to Master Dennis, and say how very grateful she and Dan felt. However, as that could not be, she comforted herself by making up her mind to ask him next time he came, and settled cosily down to wait for Dan's arrival, when she could tell him all that had pa.s.sed.

CHAPTER NINE.

PHILIPPA'S VISIT.

"There is no doubt," said Mrs Trevor, "that the air of Fieldside suits dear Philippa; it seems to sooth her nerves."

"I think it does," answered Miss Mervyn.

"And there is no doubt," continued Mrs Trevor, "that the child needs change. She is unusually uncertain in her temper, and Dr Smith advised the sea-side at once. But it would be much easier to send her to my sister's."

"And she would have her cousins to play with," suggested Miss Mervyn.

"I do so wish Katharine had not such odd notions," continued Mrs Trevor discontentedly; "it quite makes me hesitate to let Philippa go there much. Those children are allowed to mix with all sorts of people."

"They are nice little children," Miss Mervyn ventured to say.

"Nice enough at _present_," said Mrs Trevor, "but who knows how they will grow up? If I were their father--However, you think it would be a good plan to ask my sister to have Philippa for a few days?"

"I certainly do," said Miss Mervyn, with earnest conviction.

Every one at Haughton Park thought so too, for Philippa had been so troublesome lately, that she had made the whole household uncomfortable as well as herself. "The dear child must be ill," Mrs Trevor said, and sent for Dr Smith.

"The old story, my dear madam," he said; "sensitive nerves. I should advise sending your daughter to the sea-side with some young companions.

It is important that the system should be braced, and the mind gently amused."

On consideration, Mrs Trevor did not see how she could manage to supply Philippa with sea-air as well as young companions, but it occurred to her that the air of Fieldside might do as well, and to this Miss Mervyn had heartily agreed. So a letter was at once written to Miss Chester, and the subject gently broken to Philippa, who, greatly to every one's surprise and relief, made no difficulty whatever.

"I shall take the kitten with me," she said, rather defiantly, and nothing would have pleased Mrs Trevor better, for Philippa's kitten had become a plague and a worry to every one from morning till night. There were endless complaints about it. It was a thief, it had a bad temper, it scratched the satin chairs in the drawing-room, it climbed up the curtains, it was always in the way. It had broken a whole trayful of wine-gla.s.ses. Scarcely a day pa.s.sed without some fresh piece of mischief. Perhaps the poor kitten could hardly be blamed for all this, for it would have been difficult for a wiser thing than a kitten to understand how to behave under such circ.u.mstances. Philippa would pet and spoil it one day, and scold it the next, so that it never quite knew when it was doing right or wrong. There was no doubt, however, that since its arrival there was less peace and quietness than ever at Haughton Park.

Meanwhile at Fieldside the idea of Philippa's visit was received with something like dismay. She had never stayed more than one day before, and there was a good deal of doubt in the children's minds as to whether she would make herself agreeable. Dennis in particular felt this strongly.

"Will Philippa stay two days or three days, Aunt Katharine?" he asked when he heard the news. "When Aunt Trevor says two or three days, does she count the one she comes and the one she goes, because that only leaves one clear day?"

"Oh, I daresay if you're happy together," answered Miss Chester, "her mother will like her to stay longer than that."

It was breakfast time, and she was reading a pile of letters which had just arrived, so that she did not pay much attention to the children.

Dennis turned to Maisie and said softly: "I think one clear day's quite long enough; don't you?"

Maisie took some thoughtful spoonfuls of porridge before she answered.

"I'm not quite sure. Sometimes the longer she stays the nicer she gets."

"But, anyhow," objected Dennis, "I don't like her while she's _getting_ nice, so I think it's best for her to go away soon."

Maisie was not quite so sure of this as her brother, though she too felt grave doubts about Philippa's behaviour. If she were in a nice mood, her visit might be pleasant, for there were plenty of things to show her at Fieldside, and plenty to do, if she would only be interested in them, and not have her "grown-up" manner.

"I wonder what she'll say to Darkie," she said, as she sat thinking of this after breakfast.

"She'll say Blanche is much prettier," answered Dennis; "she always says her things are nicer than ours."

"She hasn't seen him beg yet," said Maisie.

It was not long before Philippa had this opportunity, for when she was sitting at tea with her cousins that evening, she happened to look down at her side, and there was Darkie begging. He was the oddest little black figure possible, bolt upright, his bushy tail spread out at the back like a fan, and his paws neatly drooped in front.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, laughing; "how lovely! What a clever cat!"

"He always does it," said Dennis, with quiet pride. "We taught him."

"I told you he begged," added Maisie. "Why don't you teach Blanche?"

"I don't believe she could learn," said Philippa. "She's quite a nuisance at meal times. She stands up and claws and mews until she is fed. She doesn't give any peace."

Maisie looked shocked.

"That's not at all well-behaved," she said. "You oughtn't to let her do that."

"I can't help it," answered Philippa. "I often box her ears, but it's no good. She's a greedy cat, I think. Not so nice as this one, and after all, black is a better colour than white, and Darkie has a bushy tail."

Dennis looked triumphant, but Maisie was sorry to think that the white kitten was not turning out well; and though she had never liked it as much as the others, she felt it was not entirely its own fault.

Philippa evidently did not know how to manage cats. She was now on the point of giving Darkie a large corner of b.u.t.tered toast, when Dennis interfered.

"You mustn't do that, please," he said firmly. "Darkie's _never_ fed at meals. He has his tea afterwards in his own dish."

"Well!" said Philippa, looking very much surprised, "I _do_ call that cruel. You don't mean to say you let him sit up like that for nothing!

Blanche wouldn't bear that. If we don't give her what she wants at once, she cries so loud that we're obliged to."

"She's learned that of you, I suppose, hasn't she?" said Dennis.

He spoke without any intention of offending his cousin, and did not mean to be rude; but Philippa drew herself up, and flushed a pale pink all over her face.