Mr. Drummond's visit was quite a G.o.dsend, she told him, for her girls were busy and had no time to talk to her; and "one's thoughts are not always pleasant companions," she added, with a sigh. And Mr. Drummond, who had caught sight of the tears, was at once sympathetic, and expressed himself in such feeling terms--for he was more at ease in the girls' absence--that Mrs. Challoner opened out in the most confiding way, and told him a great deal that he had been anxious to learn.

But she soon found out, to her dismay, that he disapproved of her girls' plans; for he told her so at once, and in the coolest manner.

The opportunity for airing his views on the subject was far too good to be lost. Mrs. Challoner was alone; she was in a low, dejected mood; the rulers of the household were gathered in an upper chamber. What would Phillis have said, as she warbled a rather flat accompaniment to Nan's "Bonnie Dundee," which she was singing to keep up their spirits over a piece of hard work, if she had known that Mr. Drummond was at that moment in possession of her mother's ear?

"Oh, Mr. Drummond, this is very sad, if every one should think as you do about my poor girls! and Phillis does so object to being called romantic;" for he had hinted in a gentlemanly way that he thought the whole scheme was crude and girlish and quixotic to a degree.

"I hope you will not tell her, then," returned Mr. Drummond in a soothing tone, for Mrs. Challoner was beginning to look agitated. "I am afraid nothing I say will induce Miss Challoner to give up her pet scheme; but I felt, as your clergyman, it was my duty to let you know my opinion." And here Archie looked so very solemn that Mrs.

Challoner, being a weak woman, and apt to overvalue the least expression of masculine opinion, grew more and more alarmed.

"Oh, yes!" she faltered; "it is very good--very nice of you to tell me this." Phillis would have laughed in his face and Mrs. Cheyne would have found something to say about his youth; but in Mrs. Challoner's eyes, though she was an older woman, Archie's solemnity and Oriental beard carried tremendous weight with them. He might be young, nevertheless she was bound to listen meekly to him, and to respect his counsel as one who had a certain authority over her. "Oh, you are very good! and if only my girls had not made up their minds so quickly! but now what can I do but feel very uncomfortable after you have told me this?"

"Oh, as to that, there is always time for everything; it is never too late to mend," returned Mr. Drummond, tritely. "I meant from the first to tell you what I thought, if I should ever have an opportunity of speaking to you alone. You see, we Oxford men have our own notions about things: we do not always go with the tide. If your daughters--"

here he hesitated and grew red, for he was a modest, honest young fellow in the main--"pardon me, but I am only proposing an hypothesis--if they wanted to make a sensation and get themselves talked about, no doubt they would achieve a success, for the novelty----" But here he stopped, reduced to silence by the shocked expression of Mrs. Challoner's face.

"Mr. Drummond! my girls--make a sensation--be talked about?" she gasped; and all the spirit of her virtuous matronhood, and all the instinctive feeling that years of culture and ingrained refinement of nature had engendered, shone in her eyes. Her Nan and Phillis and Dulce to draw this on themselves!

Now, at this unlucky moment, when the maternal fires were all alight, who should enter but Phillis, wanting "pins, and dozens of them,--quickly, please," and still warbling flatly that refrain of "Bonnie Dundee!"

"Oh, Phillis! Oh, my darling child!" cried Mrs. Challoner, quite hysterically; "do you know what your clergyman says? and if he should say such things, what will be the world's opinion? No, Mr. Drummond, I did not mean to be angry. Of course you are telling us this for our good; but I do not know when I have been so shocked."

"Why, what is this?" demanded Phillis, calmly; but she fixed her eyes on the unlucky clergyman, who began to wish that that last speech had not been uttered.

"He says it is to make a sensation--to be talked about--that you are going to do this," gasped Mrs. Challoner, who was far too much upset to weigh words truly.

"What!" Phillis only uttered that very unmeaning monosyllable: nevertheless, Archie jumped from his seat as though he had been shot.

"Mrs. Challoner, really this is too bad! No, you must allow me to explain," as Phillis turned aside with a curling lip, as though she would leave them. He actually went between her and the door, as though he meant to prevent her egress forcibly. There is no knowing to what lengths he would have gone in his sudden agitation. "Only wait a moment, until I explain myself. Your mother has misunderstood me altogether. Never has such a thought entered my mind!"

"Oh," observed Phillis. But now she stood still and began to collect her pins out of her mother's basket. "Perhaps, as this is rather unpleasant, you will have the kindness to tell me what it was you said to my mother?" And she spoke like a young princess who had just received an insult.

"I desire nothing more," returned Archie, determined to defend himself at all costs. "I had been speaking to Mrs. Challoner about all this unfortunate business. She was good enough to repose confidence in me, and, as your clergyman, I felt myself bound to tell her exactly my opinions on the subject."

"I do not quite see the necessity; but no doubt you know best," was Phillis's somewhat sarcastic answer.

"At least, I did it for the best," returned the young man, humbly. "I pointed out things to Mrs. Challoner, as I told you I should. I warned her what the world would say,--that it would regard your plan as very singular and perhaps quixotic. Surely there is nothing in this to offend you?"

"You have not touched on the worst part of all," returned Phillis, with a little disdain in her voice. "About making a sensation, I mean."

"There it was that your mother so entirely misunderstood. What I said was this: If this dressmaking scheme were undertaken just to make a sensation, it would of course, achieve success, for I thought the novelty might take. And then I added that I was merely stating an hypothesis by way of argument, and then Mrs. Challoner looked shocked, and you came in."

"Is that all?" asked Phillis, coming down from her stilts at once, for she knew of old how her mother would confuse things sometimes; and, if this were the truth, she, Phillis, had been rather too hard on him.

"Yes. Do you see now any necessity for quarrelling with me?" returned Mr. Drummond, breathing a little more freely as the frown lessened on Phillis's face. He wanted to be friends with these girls, not to turn them against him.

"Well, no, I believe not," she answered, quite gravely. "And I am sure I beg your pardon if I was rude." But this Archie would not allow for a moment.

"But, Mr. Drummond, one word before peace is quite restored," went on Phillis, with something of her old archness, "or else I will fetch my sisters, and you will have three of us against you."

"Oh, do, Phillis, my dear," interrupted her mother; "let them come and hear what Mr. Drummond thinks."

"Mammy, how dare you!--how dare you be so contumacious, after all the trouble we have taken to set your dear fidgety mind at rest? Just look what you have done, Mr. Drummond," turning upon him. "Now I am not going to forgive you, and we will not trust the mother out of our sight, unless you promise not to say this sort of thing to her when we are not here to answer them."

"But, Miss Challoner, my pastoral conscience!" but his eyes twinkled a little.

"Oh, never mind that!" she retorted, mischievously. "I will give you leave to lecture us collectively, but not individually: that must not be thought about for a moment." She had not a notion what the queer expression on Mr. Drummond's face meant, and he did not know himself; but he had the strongest desire to laugh at this.

They parted after this the best of friends; and Phillis tasted the cherries, and p.r.o.nounced them very good.

"You have quite forgiven me?" Mr. Drummond said, as she accompanied him to the door before rejoining her sisters. "You know I have promised not to do it again until the next time."

"Oh, we shall see about that!" returned Phillis, good-humoredly.

"Forewarned is forearmed; and there is a triple alliance against you."

"Good heavens, what mockery it seems! I never saw such girls,--never!"

thought Mr. Drummond, as he took long strides down the road. "But Mattie is right: they mean business, and nothing in the world would change that girl's determination if she had set herself to carry a thing out. I never knew a stronger will!" And in this he was tolerably right.

CHAPTER XXII.

"Tr.i.m.m.i.n.gS, NOT SQUAILS."

The longest week must have an end; and so at last the eventful Monday morning arrived,--"Black Monday," as Dulce called it, and then sighed as she looked out on the sunshine and the waving trees, and thought how delicious a long walk or a game of tennis would be, instead of st.i.tch, st.i.tch, st.i.tching all day. But Dulce was an unselfish little soul, and kept all these thoughts to herself, and dressed herself quickly; for she had overslept herself, and Phillis had long been downstairs.

Nan was locking up the tea-caddy as she entered the parlor, and Phillis was standing by the table, drawing on her gloves, and her lips were twitching a little,--a way they had when Phillis was nervous.

Nan went up and kissed her, and gave her an encouraging pat.

"This is for luck, my dear; and mind you make the best of poor Miss Milner's dumpy, roundabout little figure. There I have put the body-lining, and the measuring-tape, and a paper of pins in this little black bag; and I have not forgotten the scissors,--oh, dear, no! I have not forgotten the scissors," went on Nan, with such surprising cheerfulness that Phillis saw through it, and was down on her in a moment.

"No, Nan; there! I declare I will not be such a goose. I am not nervous,--not one bit; it is pure fun, that's what it is. Dulce, what a naughty child you are to oversleep yourself this morning, and I had not the heart to wake you, you looked so like a baby: and we never wake babies because they are sure to squall!"

"Oh, Phil, are you going to Miss Milner's? I would have walked with you if I had had my breakfast; but I am so hungry."

"I could not possibly wait," returned Phillis; "punctuality is one of the first duties of--hem!--dressmakers; all orders executed promptly, and promises performed with undeviating regularity: those are my maxims. Eat a good breakfast, and then see if mammy wants any help, for Nan must be ready for me at the work-table, for she is our head cutter-out." And then Phillis nodded briskly, and walked away.

By a singular chance, Mr. Drummond was watering his ferns in the front court as Phillis pa.s.sed, and in spite of her reluctance, for somehow he was the last person she wanted to encounter that day, she was obliged to wish him good-morning.

"Good-morning! Yes, indeed, it is a glorious morning," observed Archie, brightly. "And may I ask where you are going so early?"

"Only to the Library," returned Phillis, laconically; but the color mounted to her forehead. "We begin business to-day."

And then Archie took up his watering-pot and refrained from any more questions. It was absurd, perhaps, but at the moment he had forgotten, and the remembrance was not pleasing.

Phillis felt quite brave after this, and walked into the Library as though the place belonged to her. When it came to details, Miss Milner was far more nervous than she.