Miss Merivales Mistake | Page 3

consented to rent for her, while the family spent the winter in Italy.
Pauline found the freedom of a flat delightful, and looked forward with a sinking heart to the day of Lady Desborough's return. Her only hope was that Rose might be induced to entreat her aunt to let her live in London, so that she might study music at the Royal Academy. Pauline was sure that Miss Merivale would consent, if only Rose's pleading was urgent enough. Rose had had her own way all her life.
[Illustration: PAULINE LEANT AGAINST THE DRESSER AND WATCHED HER.]
"There, it is quite ready now," Rose said, as she finished cutting the bread and butter. "If you will move a little, Pauline, I will carry the tray in."
"I ought to do that," said Pauline lazily. "What will your aunt think, Rosie? I am not treating you like a visitor, am I?"
"I wish I wasn't a visitor," said Rose, with a faint little sigh. "I envy Clare more than I ever envied anybody. She must be having a lovely time." "It will soon be over, poor dear. I wish"--Pauline stopped again, and began a fresh sentence. "You and I would get on better than Clare and I do, Rose. We like the same things. She does not care a bit for music, but I can't live without it. What delightful times we could have together, Rose! But I don't suppose your aunt would hear of it. She is more old-fashioned in her ideas than Lady Desborough."
Rose had clasped her hands together. "Oh, Pauline, it would be too delightful! Would you really like to have me? Aunt Lucy might let me come, though I'm afraid she could not get on without me. And there's Tom!"
Pauline's dark eyes grew quizzical "I didn't know you were afraid of Tom, Rose. Doesn't he think everything you do is right? Was there ever a little girl so spoiled by a big brother?"
"But he thinks I ought always to be at home to wait on him. You said the other day that he was selfish, Pauline."
"All brothers are, my dear," returned Pauline oracularly, "and it is sisters who make them so. Come, strike a blow for your liberty, Rose. You are not really wanted at home, and you are wasting your days in that dull little country place. Wouldn't you like to live here with me?"
Rose's face was answer enough. She drew a deep breath before she spoke. "If only Aunt Lucy wouldn't miss me too much, Pauline! But she's not strong. I don't think she could do without me."
"She would be better if she came up to London oftener and had a fuller life," returned Pauline, with decision. "Her ill health has always been mainly imaginary, Rose. When people have nothing else to do, they sink into invalidism. But you are making me lose my character as a hostess altogether. Let us take in the tea. Your aunt will wonder what we have been doing."
But Miss Merivale had not noticed that the tea was a long time in making its appearance. She was still absorbed in anxious thought when the girls came in, and after a little while she managed to lead the conversation back to Clare and her typewriter.
"Mr. Powell suggested that we should have the programmes for the concert typewritten, Rose. He said it would be cheaper. Could you give me the address of Miss Sampson, Miss Smythe?"
"I shouldn't advise you to employ her, Miss Merivale," returned Pauline in a voice that had a sharp edge to it. For some reason or other, Clare's assistant was evidently not a favourite of hers. "I don't believe she knows her business properly. Lady Desborough's sister picked her up for Clare."
"I might try her. Could you give me her address, my dear?"
Pauline opened her eyes. It was utterly unlike Miss Merivale to be so persistent. "I am afraid I can't, Miss Merivale. I know nothing whatever about her, except that she has just come from Australia with some relations who kept a small shop out there. It was foolish of Mrs. Metcalfe to send us such a person. There are so many ladies who would be glad to do the work."
Miss Merivale had caught her breath sharply as Pauline mentioned Australia, but neither of the girls noticed her agitation. Rose had wandered to the window, and was looking with delight at the vast expanse of chimney-tops, and the little glimpse of the river, grey under the cold March sky. And Pauline was slowly stirring her tea, with her eyes cast down. She was thinking whether it would be wise to drop a hint about Rose's unhappiness at Woodcote. She had just made up her mind to say a guarded word or two, when she found, to her sharp annoyance, that Miss Merivale's