The Long Vacation

'I'll tackle them.'

'I know I shall be frightened and fail, and that will be worse.'

'No, it won't, and you won't. Look here, Francie, this is not a self-willed freak for our own amusement. The keeping up the Church schools here depends upon what we can raise. I hate bazaars. I hate to have to obtain help for the Church through these people's idle amusement, but you and I have not two or three thousands to give away to a strange place in a lump; but we have our voices. 'Such as I have give I thee,' and this ridiculous entertainment may bring in fifty or maybe a hundred. I don't feel it right to let it collapse for the sake of our own dislikes.'

'Very well, Uncle Lance, I'll do as you tell me.'

'That's the way to do it, my dear. At least, when you make ready, recollect, not that you are facing a multitude, but that you are saving a child's Christian faith; when you prepare, that you have to do with nobody but Gerald and me; when it comes to 'One, two, three, and away,' mind nothing but your music and your cue.'

'But the dress, uncle?'

'The dress is all safe at the pavilion. You must come up and rehearse as soon as you have eaten your breakfast. Oh, you don't know where. Well, one of us will come and fetch you. Good girl, Francie! Keep up your heart. By the bye, which is Fernan's dressing-room? I must prepare him.'

That question was answered, for Sir Ferdinand's door into the corridor was opened.

'Lance! I thought I heard your voice.'

'Yes, here's a pretty kettle of fish! Our Miranda has absconded, poor child. Happy thing you brought down Francie; nobody else could take the part at such short notice. You must pacify Marilda, silence scruples, say it is her duty to Church, country, and family. Can't stop!'

'Lance, explain-do! Music-mad as usual!' cried Sir Ferdinand, pursuing him down-stairs in despair.

'I must be music-mad; the only chance of keeping sane just now. There's an awful predicament! Can't go into it now, but you shall hear all when this is over.'

Wherewith Lance was lost to view, and presently burst into St. Kenelm's Vicarage, to the relief of poor Mr. Flight, who had tried to solace himself with those three words as best he might.

'All right. My niece, Franceska Vanderkist, who took the part before, and who has a very good soprano, will do it better as to voice, if not so well as to acting, as the Little Butterfly.'

'Is she here?'

'Yes, by good luck. I shall have her up to the pavilion to rehearse her for the afternoon.'

'Mr. Underwood, no words can say what we owe you. You are the saving of our Church education.'

Lance laughed at the magniloquent thanks, and asked how the intimation had been received.

It appeared that on the previous evening O'Leary had come to him, and, in swaggering fashion, had demanded twenty pounds as payment for his step-daughter's performance at the masque. Mr. Flight had replied that she had freely promised her services gratuitously for the benefit of the object in view. At this the man had scoffed, talked big about her value and the meanness of parsons, and threatened to withdraw her. Rather weakly the clergyman had said the question should be considered, but that he could do nothing without the committee, and O'Leary had departed, uttering abuse.

This morning 'Sweetie Bob,' the errand-boy, had arrived crying, with tidings that the shop and house were shut up; nobody answered his knock; Mother Butterfly had 'cut' in the night, gone off, he believed, with the circus, and Miss Lydia too; and there was two-and- ninepence owing to him, besides his-his-his character!

He knew that Mother Butterfly had gone to the magistrates' meeting the day before, and paid her fine of twenty-five pounds, and he also believed that she had paid up her rent, and sold her shop to a neighbouring pastry-cook, but he had never expected her to depart in this sudden way, and then he began to shed fresh tears over his two- and-ninepence and his character.

Mr. Flight began to reassure him, with promises to speak for him as an honest lad, while Lance bethought himself of the old organist's description of that wandering star, 'Without home, without country, without morals, without religion, without anything,' and recollected with a shudder that turning-point in his life when Edgar had made him show off his musical talent, and when Felix had been sharp with him, and the office of the 'Pursuivant' looked shabby, dull, and dreary.

Nothing more could be done, except to make bold assurances to Mr. Flight that Mona's place should be supplied, and then to hurry home, meeting on his way a policeman, who told him that the circus was certainly gone away, and promised to let him know whither.

He was glad to find that Gerald had not come down-stairs, having overslept himself in the morning after a wakeful night. He was dressing when his uncle knocked at his door.

'Here is a shock, Gerald! I hope it is chiefly to our masque. These people have absconded, and carried off our poor little Mona.'

'What? Absconded? My sister! I must be after them instantly,' cried Gerald, wildly snatching at his coat.

'What good would that do? you can't carry her off vi et armis.'

'Send the police.'

'No possibility. The fine is paid, the rent and all. They have gone, it seems, with the circus.'

'Ah! Depend upon it that fellow has paid the fine, and bought the poor child into slavery with it. Carried her off in spite of our demurring, and the Vicar's prosecution. I must save her. I'll go after and outbid.'

'No hurry, Gerald. A circus is not such a microscopical object but that it can be easily traced. A policeman has promised to find out where, and meanwhile we must attend to our present undertaking.'

Gerald strode up and down the room in a fiery fit of impatience and indignation, muttering furious things, quite transformed from the listless, ironical youth hitherto known to his family.

'Come,' Lancelot said, 'our first duty is to do justice to our part; Francie Vanderkist will take Mona.'

'Hang Mona! you care for nothing on earth but your fiddling and songs.'

'I do not see that being frantic will make any difference to the situation. All in our power is being done. Meanwhile, we must attend to what we have undertaken.'

Gerald rushed about a little more, but finally listened to his uncle's representation that the engrossing employment was good to prevent the peril of disturbing the two whom they were so anxious to spare. Fely came running up with a message that Aunt Cherie and Anna had been sent for to see about the decorations of the art stall, and that they would have to eat their breakfast without them.

Appetite for breakfast was lacking, but Lance forced himself to swallow, as one aware of the consequences of fasting for agitation's sake, and he nearly crammed Gerald; so that Adrian and Fely laughed, and he excused himself by declaring that he wanted his turkey-cock to gobble and not pipe. For which bit of pleasantry he encountered a glare from Gerald's Hungarian eyes. He was afraid on one side to lose sight of his nephew, on the other he did not feel equal to encounter a scolding from Marilda, so he sent Adrian and Fely down to the Marine Hotel to fetch Franceska, while he stole a moment or two for greeting Clement, who was much better, and only wanted more conversation than he durst give him.

CHAPTER XXI. THE MASQUE

Your honour's players, hearing your amendment, Are come to play a pleasant comedy. Taming of the Shrew.

Poor Franceska! First she encountered Cousin Marilda's wonder and displeasure, and the declaration that Uncle Lance went absolutely crazy over his musical mania. She had seen it before in poor Edgar, and knew what it came to. She wanted to telegraph at once to Alda to ask her consent or refusal to Franceska's appearance; but Sir Ferdinand stopped this on the ground that the circumstances could not be explained, and told her to content herself with Clement's opinion.

This she sent Sophy and Emilia to ascertain, before she would let them and the boys escort Francie to her destination. Clement, not yet up, had to hold a lit de justice, and pronounce that Uncle Lance was to be fully trusted to ask nothing unbecoming or unnecessary, and that Francie would have nothing to do with any one except him and Gerald.

'Besides,' said Emilia, as they walked up, 'nobody will find it out. The posters are all over the town, 'Mona, Miss Ludmilla Schnetterling.''

So the sisters were received with a murmur on their delay. The pretty dress prepared for Mona was found to be too small for the tall shapely Franceska, and Sophy undertook to alter it, while poor Francie's troubles began.