The sisters had an early supper together in Constance's bedroom. Constance was much easier. Having a fancy that a little movement would be beneficial, she had even got up for a few moments and moved about the room. Now she sat ensconced in pillows. A fire burned in the old-fashioned ineffectual grate. From the Sun Vaults opposite came the sound of a phonograph singing an invitation to God to save its gracious queen. This phonograph was a wonderful novelty, and filled the Sun nightly. For a few evenings it had interested the sisters, in spite of themselves, but they had soon sickened of it and loathed it. Sophia became more and more obsessed by the monstrous absurdity of the simple fact that she and Constance were there, in that dark inconvenient house, wearied by the gaiety of public-houses, blackened by smoke, surrounded by mud, instead of being luxuriously installed in a beautiful climate, amid scenes of beauty and white cleanliness. Secretly she became more and more indignant.
Amy entered, bearing a letter in her coarse hand. As Amy unceremoniously handed the letter to Constance, Sophia thought: "If she was my servant she would hand letters on a tray." (An advertisement had already been sent to the Signal.
Constance took the letter trembling. "Here it is at last," she cried.
When she had put on her spectacles and read it, she exclaimed
Bless us! Here's news! He's coming down! That's why he didn't write on Saturday as usual.
She gave the letter to Sophia to read. It ran
Sunday midnight.
DEAR MOTHER
Just a line to say I am coming down to Bursley on Wednesday, on business with Peels. I shall get to Knype at 5.28, and take the Loop. I've been very busy, and as I was coming down I didn't write on Saturday. I hope you didn't worry. Love to yourself and Aunt Sophia.
Yours, C.
I must send him a line," said Constance, excitedly.
What? To-night
Yes. Amy can easily catch the last post with it. Otherwise he won't know that I've got his letter.
She rang the bell.
Sophia thought: "His coming down is really no excuse for his not writing on Saturday. How could she guess that he was coming down? I shall have to put in a little word to that young man. I wonder Constance is so blind. She is quite satisfied now that his letter has come." On behalf of the elder generation she rather resented Constance's eagerness to write in answer.
But Constance was not so blind. Constance thought exactly as Sophia thought. In her heart she did not at all justify or excuse Cyril. She remembered separately almost every instance of his carelessness in her regard. "Hope I didn't worry, indeed!" she said to herself with a faint touch of bitterness, apropos of the phrase in his letter.
Nevertheless she insisted on writing at once. And Amy had to bring the writing materials.
Mr. Cyril is coming down on Wednesday," she said to Amy with great dignity.
Amy's stony calmness was shaken, for Mr. Cyril was a great deal to Amy. Amy wondered how she would be able to look Mr. Cyril in the face when he knew that she had given notice.
In the middle of writing, on her knee, Constance looked up at Sophia, and said, as though defending herself against an accusation: "I didn't write to him yesterday, you know, or to- day.
No," Sophia murmured assentingly.
Constance rang the bell yet again, and Amy was sent out to the post.
Soon afterwards the bell was rung for a fourth time, and not answered.
I suppose she hasn't come back yet. But I thought I heard the door. What a long time she is
What do you want?" Sophia asked.
I just want to speak to her," said Constance.
When the bell had been rung seven or eight times, Amy at length re-appeared, somewhat breathless.
Amy," said Constance, "let me examine those sheets, will you
Yes'm," said Amy, apparently knowing what sheets, of all the various and multitudinous sheets in that house.
And the pillow-cases," Constance added as Amy left the room.
So it continued. The next day the fever heightened. Constance was up early, before Sophia, and trotting about the house like a girl. Immediately after breakfast Cyril's bedroom was invested and revolutionized; not till evening was order restored in that chamber. And on the Wednesday morning it had to be dusted afresh. Sophia watched the preparations, and the increasing agitation of Constance's demeanour, with an astonishment which she had real difficulty in concealing. "Is the woman absolutely mad?" she asked herself. The spectacle was ludicrous: or it seemed so to Sophia, whose career had not embraced much experience of mothers. It was not as if the manifestations of Constance's anxiety were dignified or original or splendid. They were just silly, ordinary fussinesses; they had no sense in them. Sophia was very careful to make no observation. She felt that before she and Constance were very much older she had a very great deal to do, and that a subtle diplomacy and wary tactics would be necessary. Moreover, Constance's angelic temper was slightly affected by the strain of expectation. She had a tendency to rasp. After the high-tea was set she suddenly sprang on to the sofa and lifted down the 'Stag at Eve' engraving. The dust on the top of the frame incensed her.
What are you going to do?" Sophia asked, in a final marvel.
I'm going to change it with that one," said Constance, pointing to another engraving opposite the fireplace. "He said the effect would be very much better if they were changed. And his lordship is very particular.
Constance did not go to Bursley station to meet her son. She explained that it upset her to do so, and that also Cyril preferred her not to come.
Suppose I go to meet him," said Sophia, at half-past five. The idea had visited her suddenly. She thought: "Then I could talk to him before any one else.
Oh, do!" Constance agreed.
Sophia put her things on with remarkable expedition. She arrived at the station a minute before the train came in. Only a few persons emerged from the train, and Cyril was not among them. A porter said that there was not supposed to be any connection between the Loop Line trains and the main line expresses, and that probably the express had missed the Loop. She waited thirty-five minutes for the next Loop, and Cyril did not emerge from that train either.
Constance opened the front-door to her, and showed a telegram
Sorry prevented last moment. Writing. CYRIL.
Sophia had known it. Somehow she had known that it was useless to wait for the second train. Constance was silent and calm; Sophia also.
What a shame! What a shame!" thumped Sophia's heart.
It was the most ordinary episode. But beneath her calm she was furious against her favourite. She hesitated.
I'm just going out a minute," she said.
Where?" asked Constance. "Hadn't we better have tea? I suppose we must have tea.
I shan't be long. I want to buy something.
Sophia went to the post-office and despatched a telegram. Then, partially eased, she returned to the arid and painful desolation of the house.