The Rosary [119]
at the piano, filling the room with harmony. Once or twice the theme of The Rosary crept in, and Jane listened anxiously for its development; but almost immediately it gave way to something else. It seemed rather to haunt the other melodies, than to be actually there itself.
When Garth left the piano, and, guided by the purple cord, reached his chair, Nurse Rosemary said gently "Mr. Dalmain, can you spare me for a few days at the end of this week?"
"Oh, why?" said Garth. "To go where? And for how long? Ah, I know I ought to say: 'Certainly! Delighted!' after all your goodness to me. But I really cannot! You don't know what life was without you, when you week-ended! That week-end seemed months, even though Brand was here. It is your own fault for making yourself so indispensable."
Nurse Rosemary smiled. "I daresay I shall not be away for long," she said. "That is, if you want me, I can return. But, Mr. Dalmain, I intend to-night to write that letter of which I told you. I shall post it to-morrow. I must follow it up almost immediately. I must be with him when he receives it, or soon afterwards. I think--I hope-- he will want me at once. This is Monday. May I go on Thursday?"
Poor Garth looked blankly dismayed.
"Do nurses, as a rule, leave their patients, and rush off to their young men in order to find out how they have liked their letters?" he inquired, in mock protest.
"Not as a rule, sir," replied Nurse Rosemary, demurely. "But this is an exceptional case."
"I shall wire to Brand."
"He will send you a more efficient and more dependable person."
"Oh you wicked little thing!" cried Garth. "If Miss Champion were here, she would shake you! You, know perfectly well that nobody could fill your place!"
"It is good of you to say so, sir," replied Nurse Rosemary, meekly. "And is Miss Champion much addicted to shaking people?"
"Don't call me 'sir'! Yes; when people are tiresome she often says she would like to shake them; and one has a mental vision of how their teeth would chatter. There is a certain little lady of our acquaintance whom we always call 'Mrs. Do-and-don't.' She isn't in our set; but she calls upon it; and sometimes it asks her to lunch, for fun. If you inquire whether she likes a thing, she says: 'Well, I do, and I don't.' If you ask whether she is going to a certain function, she says: 'Well, I am, and I'm not.' And if you send her a note, imploring a straight answer to a direct question, the answer comes back: 'Yes AND no.' Miss Champion used to say she would like to take her up by the scruff of her feather boa, and shake her, asking at intervals: 'Shall I stop?' so as to wring from Mrs. Do- and-don't a definite affirmative, for once."
"Could Miss Champion carry out such a threat? Is she a very massive person?"
"Well, she could, you know; but she wouldn't. She is most awfully kind, even to little freaks she laughs at. No, she isn't massive. That word does not describe her at all. But she is large, and very finely developed. Do you know the Venus of Milo? Yes; in the Louvre. I am glad you know Paris. Well, just imagine the Venus of Milo in a tailor-made coat and skirt,--and you have Miss Champion."
Nurse Rosemary laughed, hysterically. Either the Venus of Milo, or Miss Champion, or this combination of both, proved too much for her.
"Little Dicky Brand summed up Mrs. Do-and-don't rather well," pursued Garth. "She was calling at Wimpole Street, on Lady Brand's 'at home' day. And Dicky stood talking to me, in his black velvets and white waistcoat, a miniature edition of Sir Deryck. He indicated Mrs. Do-and-don't on a distant lounge, and remarked: 'THAT lady never KNOWS; she always THINKS. I asked her if her little girl might come to my party, and she said: "I think so." Now if she had asked ME if I was coming to HER party, I should have said: "Thank you; I am." It is very trying when people only THINK about important things, such as little girls and parties; because their thinking never amounts to much. It does not so much matter what they think about other things--the
When Garth left the piano, and, guided by the purple cord, reached his chair, Nurse Rosemary said gently "Mr. Dalmain, can you spare me for a few days at the end of this week?"
"Oh, why?" said Garth. "To go where? And for how long? Ah, I know I ought to say: 'Certainly! Delighted!' after all your goodness to me. But I really cannot! You don't know what life was without you, when you week-ended! That week-end seemed months, even though Brand was here. It is your own fault for making yourself so indispensable."
Nurse Rosemary smiled. "I daresay I shall not be away for long," she said. "That is, if you want me, I can return. But, Mr. Dalmain, I intend to-night to write that letter of which I told you. I shall post it to-morrow. I must follow it up almost immediately. I must be with him when he receives it, or soon afterwards. I think--I hope-- he will want me at once. This is Monday. May I go on Thursday?"
Poor Garth looked blankly dismayed.
"Do nurses, as a rule, leave their patients, and rush off to their young men in order to find out how they have liked their letters?" he inquired, in mock protest.
"Not as a rule, sir," replied Nurse Rosemary, demurely. "But this is an exceptional case."
"I shall wire to Brand."
"He will send you a more efficient and more dependable person."
"Oh you wicked little thing!" cried Garth. "If Miss Champion were here, she would shake you! You, know perfectly well that nobody could fill your place!"
"It is good of you to say so, sir," replied Nurse Rosemary, meekly. "And is Miss Champion much addicted to shaking people?"
"Don't call me 'sir'! Yes; when people are tiresome she often says she would like to shake them; and one has a mental vision of how their teeth would chatter. There is a certain little lady of our acquaintance whom we always call 'Mrs. Do-and-don't.' She isn't in our set; but she calls upon it; and sometimes it asks her to lunch, for fun. If you inquire whether she likes a thing, she says: 'Well, I do, and I don't.' If you ask whether she is going to a certain function, she says: 'Well, I am, and I'm not.' And if you send her a note, imploring a straight answer to a direct question, the answer comes back: 'Yes AND no.' Miss Champion used to say she would like to take her up by the scruff of her feather boa, and shake her, asking at intervals: 'Shall I stop?' so as to wring from Mrs. Do- and-don't a definite affirmative, for once."
"Could Miss Champion carry out such a threat? Is she a very massive person?"
"Well, she could, you know; but she wouldn't. She is most awfully kind, even to little freaks she laughs at. No, she isn't massive. That word does not describe her at all. But she is large, and very finely developed. Do you know the Venus of Milo? Yes; in the Louvre. I am glad you know Paris. Well, just imagine the Venus of Milo in a tailor-made coat and skirt,--and you have Miss Champion."
Nurse Rosemary laughed, hysterically. Either the Venus of Milo, or Miss Champion, or this combination of both, proved too much for her.
"Little Dicky Brand summed up Mrs. Do-and-don't rather well," pursued Garth. "She was calling at Wimpole Street, on Lady Brand's 'at home' day. And Dicky stood talking to me, in his black velvets and white waistcoat, a miniature edition of Sir Deryck. He indicated Mrs. Do-and-don't on a distant lounge, and remarked: 'THAT lady never KNOWS; she always THINKS. I asked her if her little girl might come to my party, and she said: "I think so." Now if she had asked ME if I was coming to HER party, I should have said: "Thank you; I am." It is very trying when people only THINK about important things, such as little girls and parties; because their thinking never amounts to much. It does not so much matter what they think about other things--the