The Love Affairs of Pixie | Page 6

craning faces, with bodies braced in readiness for a flying retreat.
"Pixie!"
No answer. Still the rigid, immovable figure. Still the fixed and staring
eye.
"P-ixie!"
The eyes rolled; a deep, hollow voice boomed forth--
"I'm not Pixie!"
The expected had happened. They had known it was coming; would
have been bitterly disappointed if it had failed, nevertheless they
writhed and capered as though overcome with amazement.

"P-ixie, Pixie, Who--Are--You--Now?"
"I'm a wild buffalo of the plains!" answered Pixie unexpectedly, and as
a wild buffalo she comported herself for the next half-hour, ambling on
hands and knees round the room, while the children wreathed her neck
with impromptu garlands made of wools from their mother's
work-basket, and made votive offerings of sofa cushions, footstools,
and india-rubber toys.
In the midst of the uproar Bridgie jumped from her seat and flew to the
door, her ears sharp as ever to hear the click of her husband's latch-key.
The greeting in the narrow hall was delightfully lover-like for a married
couple of six years' standing, and they entered the drawing-room
arm-in-arm, smiling with a contentment charming to witness. Captain
Victor was satisfied that no one in the world possessed such an
altogether delightful specimen of womanhood as his "bride." She was
so sweet, so good, so unselfish, and in addition to these sterling
qualities, she was so cheerful, so spontaneous, so unexpected, that it
was impossible for life to grow dull and monotonous while she was at
the head of the household.
He acknowledged tenderly, and with a shrug of the shoulders to express
resignation, that she might have been a cleverer housekeeper and just a
thought more economical in expenditure! but considering her
happy-go-lucky upbringing under the most thriftless of fathers, the
darling really deserved more praise for what she accomplished than
blame for what was left undone.
Bridgie, on the contrary, considered that Dick worried his head
ridiculously about ways and means. Not for the world and all that it
contained would she have accused him of being mean: she merely
shrugged her shoulders and reminded herself that he was English, poor
thing! English people had a preference for seeing money visibly in their
purses before they spent it, while she herself had been brought up in a
cheerful confidence that it would "turn up" somehow to pay the bills
which had been incurred in faith.
Captain Victor displayed not the faintest astonishment at discovering

his sister-in-law on all fours, nor did he appear overcome to be
introduced to her as a buffalo of the plains. He smiled at her almost as
tenderly as at his own babies, and said--
"How do, Buff! Pleased to have met you. So kind of you to make hay
in my drawing-room," which reproof brought Pixie quickly to her
rightful position. That was another English characteristic of Dick
Victor--he hated disorder, and was not appreciative of uproar on his
return from a day's work. Therefore there were picture-books in waiting
for his return, and after a few minutes parleying Pixie cajoled the
children into the dining-room on the plea of a bigger and more
convenient table for the display of their treasures, leaving the husband
and wife alone.
Dick lay back in his easy chair, and stretched himself with an
involuntary sigh of relief. He was devoted to his children, but a quiet
chat with Bridgie was the treat par excellence at this hour of the day
when he was tired and in need of rest. He stretched out a hand towards
her, and she stroked it with gentle fingers.
"Ye're tired, dear. Will I get you a cup of tea? It's not long since it went
out. If I poured some hot-water in the pot..."
Dick shuddered.
"Thank you, ma'am, no! If I have any, I'll have it fresh, but I don't care
about it to-day. It's nice just to rest and talk. Anything happened to you
to-day?"
"There always does. It's the most exciting thing in the world to be the
mistress of a household," said Bridgie, with relish. There were few days
when Captain Victor was not treated to a history of accidents and
contretemps on his return home, but unlike most husbands he rather
anticipated than dreaded the recital, for Bridgie so evidently enjoyed it
herself, taking a keen retrospective joy over past discomfitures.
The Victor household had its own share of vicissitudes, more than its
share perhaps, but through them all there survived a spirit of kindliness

and good fellowship which took away more than half the strain.
Maidservants arriving in moods of suspicion and antagonism found
themselves unconsciously unarmed by the cheery, kindly young
mistress, who administered praise more readily than blame, and so far
from "giving herself airs" treated them with friendly kindliness and
consideration. On the very rare occasions