Wych Hazel | Page 4

said with a smile. 'Though I am afraid, my dear, it is hardly in keeping. Quickear began the search in rags, and Cincerella in ashes, and the "Fair one with the golden locks" had, I think, no other adornment. Puss in boots was indeed new rigged--but Puss was only a deputy. What do you say to sending me forth in boots, to seek a fortune for you?'
An irrepressible laugh rippled forth--sweet and sound, and, oh, so heartwhole!
'Let me see,' she said; 'To-day is Monday. To-morrow I will get the dress and distract my dressmaker. And next Monday we will set out, and take Chickaree for our first stage. My dear Mr. Falkirk--most potent, grave, and reverend sir,--if you sally forth as Puss in boots, of course I shall at once turn into the Marquis of Carrabas, which would not suit your notions at all--confess!' she added, locking both hands round his arm, and flashing the brilliants before his eyes.
'Next Monday we will take the first stage for Chickaree,' said Mr. Falkirk in an unmoved manner. 'How many servants in your train, Miss Hazel?'
'None, sir. Mrs. Bywank is there already, and Mrs. Saddler can "forward" me "with care." I'll pick up a new maid by the way.'
'Will you pick up a page too? or does Dingee keep his place?'
'If he can be said to have one. O, Dingee, of course.'
'Wych Hazel,' said Mr. Falkirk from under his brows, 'what is your plan?--if you are capable of such a thing.'
'My plan is to unfold my capabilities, sir,--for your express benefit, Mr. Falkirk. We will beat the bush in every direction, and run down any game that offers.'
Mr. Falkirk turned his chair half away, and looked into the fire. Then slowly, but with every effect of expression, he repeated,--
'A creature bounced from the bush, Which made them all to laugh, "My lord," he cried, "A hare! a hare!" But it proved an Essex calf.'
'Yes,' said Wych Hazel with excellent coolness,--'men do make such little mistakes, occasionally. But this time I shall be along. Good night, sir.'
CHAPTER III.
CORNER OF A STAGE COACH
'Miss Hazel!--Dear Miss Hazel!--Dear me, Miss Hazel!--here's the morning, ma'am,--and Gotham, and Mr. Falkirk!'
So far the young eyes unclosed as to see that they could see nothing--unless the flame of a wind-tossed candle,--then with a disapproving frown they closed again.
'But Miss Hazel?' remonstrated Mrs. Saddler.
'Well?' said Wych Hazel with closed eyes.
'Mr. Falkirk's dressed, ma'am.'
'What is it to me if Mr. Falkirk chooses to get up over night?'
'But the stage, ma'am!'
'The stage can wait.'
'The stage won't, Miss Hazel,' said Mrs. Saddler, earnestly. 'And Gotham says it's only a question of time whether we can catch it now.'
Something in these last words had an arousing power, for the girl laughed out.
'Mrs. Saddler, how can one wake up, with the certainty of seeing a tallow candle?'
'Dear me,' said Mrs. Saddler hurrying to light two tall sperms, 'if that's all, Miss Hazel--'
'That's not all. What's the matter with Mr. Falkirk this morning?'
'Why nothing, ma'am. Only he said you wanted to take the first stage to Chickaree.'
'Which I didn't, and don't.'
'And Gotham says,' pursued Mrs. Saddler, 'that if it is the first, ma'am, we'll save a day to get to Chickaree on Thursday.'
Whereupon, Wych Hazel sprung at once into a state of physical and mental action which nearly blew Mrs. Saddler away.
'Look,' she said, tossing the curls over her comb,--'there's my new travelling dress on the chair.'
'Another new travelling dress!' said Mrs. Saddler with upraised hands.
'And the hat ribbands match,' said Wych Hazel, 'and the gloves. And the veil is a shade lighter. Everything matches everything, and everything matches me. You never saw my match before, did you Mrs. Saddler?'
'Dear me! Miss Hazel,' said the good woman again. 'You do talk so wonderful!'
It was splendid to see her look of dismay, and amusement, and admiration, all in one, and to catch a glimpse of the other face--fun and mischief and beauty, all in one too! To put on the new dress, to fit on the new gloves,--Wych Hazel went down to Mr. Falkirk in admirable spirits.
Mr. Falkirk looked gloomy. As indeed anything might, in that hall; with the front door standing open, and one lamp burning till day should come; and the chill air streaming in. Mr. Falkirk paced up and down with the air of a man prepared for the worst. He shook Wych Hazel grimly by the hand, and she laughed out,
'How charming it is, sir? But where's breakfast?'
'Breakfast, Miss Hazel,' said her guardian solemnly, 'is never, so far as I can learn, taken by people setting out to seek their fortune. It is generally supposed that such people rarely have breakfast at all.'
'Very well, sir,--I am ready,'--and in another minute they were on their way, passing through the street of the little village, and then