Pixie OShaughnessy | Page 9

smiles to her face and restore her
equanimity.
The arrival at Surbiton Station was a breathless experience, though it
was a distinct blow to her vanity to find that no deputation from Holly
House was in waiting to receive Patricia O'Shaughnessy with the
honours she deserved. No one took any notice of her at all. When the
cabman, when directed to drive to Holly House, preserved an unmoved
stolidity of feature, and had no remark whatever to offer on the subject.
How different from dear, friendly, outspoken Bally William, where
each man was keenly interested in the affairs of his neighbour, and the
poorest peasant upon the road felt himself competent to offer advice on
the most intimate family matters! Pixie felt a chill of foreboding as she
drove through the trim Surbiton streets and noticed girls like herself
walking demurely beside mother or governess, with laced-in boots,
gloved bands, and silky manes flowing down their backs in straight,
uninterrupted flow. She looked down at her own new, stout, little boots.
Sixteen buttons in all, and only one missing! Such a pitch of propriety
made her feel quite in keeping with her surroundings, and she had kid
gloves too--dyed ones--which looked every bit as good as new, and left
no mark at all except round the fastenings, and the lobes of the fingers.
She gave a wriggle of contentment, and at that moment the cab turned
in at the gate of Holly House.
The name of the house seemed to have more appropriateness than is
usually the case, for the garden was surrounded by a thick holly hedge,
and the beds were planted with holly trees so dark that they appeared to
be almost black in hue. To the eyes of the new pupil there was
something awe-inspiring in the sight of the grim flowerless beds and
the foliage which looked so stern and prickly, almost as bad as the
pieces of broken glass which are laid on the top of high walls to prevent
escape or intrusion. The house itself was big and square, with a door in
the centre, and at the top two quaint dormer windows, standing out
from the roof like big surprised-looking eyes. "Dear, dear!" they
seemed to say. "If this isn't Pixie O'Shaughnessy driving up to the door!

Wonders will never cease!"
The hall was wide and cold, and, oh, so clean--"fearful clean," thought
the new pupil with a sigh, as she stepped gingerly over the polished
oilcloth and gazed awesomely at spotless wood and burnished brass.
The drawing-room had none of the splendour of that disused apartment
at Knock Castle, but it was bright and home-like, with an abundance of
pretty cushions and tablecloths, a scent of spring flowers in the air, and
a fire dancing cheerily in the grate. Pixie's prejudices received a shock
at the sight of so much frivolity in a drawing-room, and she could not
echo her father's admiration. She seated herself on the edge of the sofa
and began to paint imaginary pictures of the mistress of this fine house.
"She will be tall, with yellow hair. She will have cold fingers and a
nose that looks thin and has a hump in the middle. No, I don't believe
she will, after all. I believe she'll be fussy, and then they are small and
dark--dark, with eyeglasses, and those funny red cheeks that are made
up of little lines, and never get lighter or darker. And she'll have a chain
hanging from her waist with a lot of things that jingle, like the lady in
the train. Oh, me dear, suppose she was old! I never thought of that.
Suppose she was old, in a cap and a black satin dress, and chilblains on
her hands!" And when the door opened--it was really a most exciting
occasion!--and Miss Phipps came into the room.
She was not in the least like any of the three pictures which Pixie had
imagined, she was far, far nicer and prettier. She was tall, and so
graceful and elegantly dressed as to be quite dazzling to the eyes of the
country-bred stranger. She had waving brown hair, which formed a sort
of halo round her face, a pale complexion, and grey eyes which looked
at you with a straight long glance, and then lightened as if they liked
what they saw. She was quite young, too, not a bit old and proper; the
only thing that looked old were the little lines about the eyes, and even
those disappeared when her face was in repose. She came forward to
where the major was standing, and held out her hand with a smile of
welcome.
"Major O'Shaughnessy! I am very pleased to see you. I hope you have
had a good journey and a comfortable