"No one will know you, dear. No one will look at you."

"Do you mean that for comfort, may I ask? I _want_ to be looked at.

''Tis sad to think no eye will watch for us, and grow brighter when we come,'" quoted Madge in sentimental accents, which made Philippa giggle in her turn. Then for some mysterious reason she blushed again, and strolled over towards the window.

"Hot, dear?" queried Madge blandly. "Room rather warm, perhaps--too big fire."

"So extravagant, too, on a mild day like this! I really must speak to Mary about using so much coal," said Theo, with a frown. She went on with her sewing, apparently unconscious of the wide-eyed amazement with which Philippa regarded her. The skies were going to fall indeed when Miss Theo troubled herself about an item of domestic economy!

There was something rather pathetic about the glee with which the four sisters made their toilets a few hours later. The night's entertainment, which would have seemed so tame and ordinary to most girls of their age, appeared a very frenzy of excitement after their year of hard work and privation. They laughed and chattered like so many magpies, ran about from room to room in lace petticoats and pretty low bodices, and sat in turns before the dining-room fire, while Hope-- happy possessor of natural curls!--heated irons and waved and crimped with such artistic skill that, as Madge gleefully declared, the three heads were 'transformations' indeed--far more like toupees than natural growth.

Philippa wore her mother's lace, which gave a regal air to the old black silk dress; Hope was lovely, as usual, in her professional white; Madge's "subdued elegance" proved exceedingly becoming; but Theo was distinctly the most imposing figure of the four. She possessed the Frenchwoman's talent for putting on her clothes and adding those little touches which go so far towards making an effective whole, and her sisters exclaimed with surprised admiration as she came rustling into the drawing-room, a chaplet of violets crowning the graceful head, and a couple of black feathers fastened jauntily at the side of the low corsage by a paste buckle, which looked exactly like a family heirloom, and not in the least as if it had been unpicked from the side of a felt hat but ten minutes before. Thrown over her shoulders, too, was quite a vision in the way of evening-cloaks, manufactured out of a summer cape, a lace collar, and the beloved feather boa tacked on as an edging. The cape was unlined, and far too thin a covering for a winter evening; but, girl-like, Theo declared that she was "broiled," and insisted that suffocation would be the result of wearing the nice, warm, ugly shawl which Philippa pressed upon her.

The Hermit came upstairs in his dress-clothes, bearing in his hands four immaculate white camellias, which had seemed to his old-fashioned notions appropriate offerings to present to his girl guests. It was sweet of him to have thought of flowers at all, but--camellias! Theo thanked her stars for the violets which she was already wearing, and dashed from the room to warn Madge, who promptly stole the chrysanthemums from the dinner-table and pinned them in a conspicuous position. Hope, of course, was too gentle to refuse what had been meant so kindly; while as for Philippa, to judge by her e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns of delight, it would appear that nothing under the sun could have given her so much pleasure.

They drove away from the door in a couple of four-wheelers, two happy, smiling girls on either back seat, faced by a hungry, dress-coated man.

The dinner was everything that fancy had painted it: all sorts of delightful things to eat, disguised under French names, and looking so pretty that it seemed a sin to disturb the dishes. Music, lights, interesting people all around, at whom it was a pleasure to look, and who looked back in their turn, as if equally pleased by what they saw.

Steve grew quite frisky in his enjoyment, and Philippa and the Hermit became delightfully and unconsciously absorbed in their own conversation. The little party lingered over dessert, loath to leave so interesting a position, but the settees in the hall were presently discovered to afford an even better vantage-ground for observing their neighbours.

Steve came over and demanded a place beside his three younger sisters.

"Neil is submitting the synopsis of his next book to Phil. You seem much jollier over here," he said innocently, and the girls watched Philippa's absorbed face in an ecstasy of admiration.

"_Doesn't_ she do it well? Who would think, to look at her, that the very t.i.tle is beyond her comprehension?"

They turned aside to hide their smiles, and became once more absorbed in their old occupation. Fascinating groups of people appeared at every moment, and it was no use deciding that you would have your next new dress made exactly like this one, and making surrept.i.tious sketches on the back of the menu card, for it was no sooner lost to sight than another appeared fifty times more distracting.

"I do feel a worm among them all!" grumbled Madge; but when Steve considerately offered to take her home, she said, "Thank you, dear; I'm enjoying it dreadfully. I wouldn't go for _worlds_.--Hope, there is a girl over there to the right who is staring at you with all her eyes.

Pretend to look after this man and you'll see her. There--by the lady in blue."

Hope looked, exclaimed in surprise, and the next moment she and the strange girl had risen and walked forward to meet each other in the middle of the hall.

"Miss Bennett, is it really you?"

"Hope Charrington! The idea of meeting you here! I've so often wanted to see you again! Sit down here and talk to me for a minute. Are those your sisters? They are not like you--not so pretty; but the one with the violets looks very smart. You are thin, but you are one of those horrid creatures who always look nice. What do you think of me? Do I look worn? Brides always look wrecks; and I vowed I wouldn't, but I'm tired to death already. I've come up to buy my clothes. It's to be in February. You heard, of course?"

"Avice told me. I must congratulate you now. I suppose you are very happy?"

"_He_ is!" laughed Truda meaningly. "Quite daft about me! You met him, of course, down at The Shanty, and he liked you awfully much. We have often talked of you, and arranged to have you down when we have a party to entertain."

Hope smiled with stiff lips. He had liked her "awfully much," had he?

So much that he had wished to have her as a visitor when Truda was his wife! Oh, what a fool, fool, fool she had been to imagine for a moment that he had really cared!

"You will live in the country, I suppose?" she remarked; and again Truda laughed and wagged her head.

"He thinks we will, and I am very meek and submissive _note_, but I'll have a town-house before a year is over; you see if I don't! What is the use of all my lovely clothes in a poky little bit of a village?

Would you like to see my dresses? I'll take you with me to the dressmaker's some day if you like."

"Thank you, but I am afraid I could not spare the time. It is very kind of you to ask me."

"Oh, not a bit! It would have amused me and been a day off for mamma.

Still writing songs and giving story-telling entertainments, are you?

Oh, I heard all about it. I was bothered to death to find engagements for you." Truda lay back in her chair and looked curiously into the fair, troubled face. "Seen anything of Ralph Merrilies lately?"

Hope's embarra.s.sment was swallowed up in surprise at so casual a reference to a future husband. "No," she said emphatically--"not for nearly six months. I never meet him except at my aunt's house, and I go there very seldom. He does not call on us in our flat."

"I wonder why not. He was awfully smitten with you; and wasn't. I furious about it? He had been quite attentive to me before you came, and then he had eyes for no one else. I believe I was quite jealous of you, dear."

"You had no reason to be. You feel that now, don't you?" said Hope gently, and Truda gave a complacent little laugh.

"Oh, I don't mind now. He may care as much as he likes. Reggie is a good little soul; I'm quite satisfied with him."

"_Reggie_!"

"Reggie, of course--Charles Reginald Blake. Who else should it be?

Hope Charrington, you _don't_ mean to tell me that you imagined--"

"Of course I did! It's your own fault. You told me--don't you remember?--you told me yourself that you liked him, and warned me--"

For once Truda had the grace to blush and look discomfited.

"Oh well, of course, there was always _some one_. I was rather smitten, but I could not go on caring for a man who had the bad taste to prefer another girl. And Reggie has been so faithful! He used to send me chocolates when I was at school in Brighton."

"He is a dear little man--so amiable and cheery. There will be quite a compet.i.tion between you as to who shall play off a trick first. I hope you will ask me down some day. You _will_ be a merry couple," cried Hope, with such a heart-whole laugh as had not been heard from her for many a long day.

Miss Bennett regarded her curiously.

"How pleased you seem! Oh yes, I'll ask you. But perhaps you may be"-- her eyes twinkled--"previously engaged."

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL.

One dark December morning Theo found a letter lying on her plate on the breakfast-table; not the long, white envelope addressed in her own writing, which her soul abhorred, but a business-looking epistle, stamped on which was the magic name of _The Casket Magazine_. She gulped, tore open the envelope, and read the golden news: "I have read with much interest your original little story, and have pleasure in accepting it for the magazine." "Your original little story--have pleasure in accepting it." Theo gulped again, and laughed with the tears in her eyes. Oh, how often she had dreamt of this moment! How she had longed for it, and sickened with dread lest it should never come! She turned a radiant face upon her sisters, and waved her letter in the air.

"Hurrah! At last! From Mr Hammond! He has accepted my story, and calls it very original. A story in the _Casket_! Girls, do you realise it? Do you realise how you are honoured by sitting at the same table with _me_!" She laughed again, in tremulous fashion, and Madge bowed elaborately, coffee-cup in hand.

"Your health, my dear! I look towards you! You have done it this time.

To be a contributor to the _Casket_ is like being hung on the line in the Academy. Sha'n't I brag about you at the Slade?"

"It is simply splendid, dear. I do hope they will put your name to it.

It will be so disappointing if they don't," said Philippa the tactless.

She was overflowing with sympathy with Theo in her success, and yet, poor dear! she must needs call attention to the one existing drawback; for the _Casket_ was as conservative as it was high-cla.s.s--scorned to invite popularity by ill.u.s.trations or artistic cover, and more often than not left a blank opposite the t.i.tles of stories and articles. It was at such moments as these that Theo felt that she could endure with resignation Philippa's speedy marriage and departure from the home circle. Only five minutes since she had heard the wonderful news, and already a little cloud came floating across the brightness of the sky; for it was little use appearing in the best magazine of the day if no one knew of it but yourself, and an admiring public remained in ignorance of your name.

"How _horrid_ of you to suggest such a thing! You might let me enjoy myself when I can," she cried irritably. "You are a perfect wet blanket, Philippa--always sitting on us, and depreciating what we do.

It is too bad--spoiling my pleasure when I have waited so long."

"I! _I_ spoil your pleasure--_I_ depreciate you!" Philippa was fairly gasping with surprise and wounded feeling. "When I slave for you all day long! When I take everything off your hands, so that you may give your time to your work! When it is through me you are here at all! You cruel, ungrateful girl, how can you have the heart to speak to me in such a way?"