IX
Glowingfrom quite the most luxurious bath it had ever been the lot of Girlie Cass to enjoy, that little lady presently returned to submit her sensitiveness to hands of ruthless indelicacy. It had been Pikey’s pleasing task “to mother” the six small Catkin ladies. Perhaps the fact may have accounted for much in her present mode of handling the Deputy. Even after her charges had emerged from the nursery, within her own sphere, which was now that of lady’s maid, she had always been a tremendous autocrat. Her methods might lack subtlety, but of their effectiveness there could be no doubt. In the case of the Family, however, they were mitigated by the knowledge that they were but the outward expression of her inordinate pride in and absolute devotion to them all. No matter what the Catkin ladies suffered at her hands, they knew in their hearts that Pikey would yield her life cheerfully for any one of them at a moment’s notice. The luckless Girlie, however, had not this thought to sustain her. There was no sense of handmaidenly altruism to soften the present pain and ignominy of the lot of Miss No-Class.
One thing there was, however, in this hour of trial to nerve Lady Elfreda’s deputy; it was the exquisitegarment of misty blue with a shimmer of silver and tulle. Would it fit? For a moment her feelings were harrowed by the fear that it might not. That would be tragedy, indeed. But the fear was groundless. Nature had molded her so daintily that even with the thick woolly combinations she had decided to retain there was room for her small person in that glorious gown.
She looked in the large glass to satisfy herself that such was the case, carefully tucked in the edges of the obtrusive undergarment which so tactlessly showed themselves above the proud corsage, and then turned to confront Pikey with a little air of triumph.
“It fits wonderfully, I think.”
Pikey looked Miss No-Class truculently up and down. Then with a scorn that in a moment less exalted would have been annihilating, she deliberately plucked out the concealed edges of the woolly combinations, sniffed loudly and palpably, plucked at the sleeves of the gown, pulled them and patted them, and finally lifted up the skirt. Disdaining comment in mere words, the maid at once produced a wonderful array of gossamer-like undergarments, stockings ravishing in blue silk, and slippers that were a glory of silver buckles and blue satin.
“Take off that dress.” The Werewolf look came upon Pikey. “Put on that dressing gown.” The fierce eyes seemed to threaten murder. “And then I’ll do your hair.”
Trembling in spirit, Miss Cass brought herself reluctantly to submit to this grim ordeal. The Ogress took an unholy joy in twisting and pulling and punching, with alternations of savage brushings and combings, yet through it all was poor Girlie upheld by the knowledge that not only was her hair abundant, of a fine color and texture, but it also had a trick of curling naturally. If it came to a “showdown” she was not afraid of anybody in the matter of hair. Without wishing to rate it too highly she had serious doubts whether the head of Lady Elfreda was so well equipped by nature, no matter what art may have done for it. And as a final satisfaction, which present circumstances seemed much to enhance, it was only the previous evening that she had shampooed it thoroughly.
Pikey was pitiless, yet she was no mean coiffeuse. The happy abundance and the charming natural waves of Miss Cass’s hair offered scope for her skill. And when she had worked her final will with cruel fingers and unsparing brush, and had gathered the silken mass and bound it artfully with a ribbon of blue and silver threads, the result was a triumph for her and also for her victim, who had been reduced to the verge of involuntary tears. As the maid ungraciously surveyed the fruits of her labors, she had secretly to admit that, owing to some odd freak on the part of nature, no head of her lawful charges had ever done her quite so much credit.
Girlie was then at liberty to devote herself to therest of her toilet. But she was not permitted to don the gauze-like blue silk stockings until the Ogress had inspected her feet with ominous care.
“I’ll cut those,” was the curt announcement at the sight of the toenails of Miss Cass.
The proud spirit of a solicitor’s daughter was inclined to contest the point. She really did not think her toes were in need of such attention.
“Very well—you don’t put onthem.” The Werewolf pointed to the blue silk stockings. “And you don’t put on those neither.” And she pointed to the enchanting slippers.
Poor Miss Cass had to suffer one more indignity. Pikey assumed a pair of spectacles, took a pair of scissors, made Girlie sit on a chair and dealt with her toes with scrupulous efficiency. The operation duly performed, Pikey turned her attention to the lovely gown. A cunning needle took in a bit here, let out a bit there, emphasized this, diminished that, until at last she reluctantly muttered, “You ought to do now.”
Girlie, ready to weep for relief, turned again to the glass. The picture she saw was beyond her most extravagant hopes. She was—yes—she was beautiful! At the sight of a ravishing self her courage rose. She had not known that mere clothes and that particular way of doing the hair and that particular ribbon in it could mean so much. Somehow the picture in the glass was going to help her enormously in the part she had to play.
Even Pikey, sunk in savage gloom at the prospect before her, could not stifle a feeling of half admiration, which to be sure she did not reveal. It was too much to hope that the preposterous trick would not be found out, but at least in the matter of looks, the Family might have been far less worthily represented. In fact so clear was Pikey on this point that she opened an ancient jewel case and took forth an article that lifted Girlie to thenth degree. It was a necklace of pearls. This lovely thing had only to clasp a white and slender throat, of which Girlie had always been secretly vain, for its owner to be made free of the seventh heaven of delight.
“That belongs to Lady Carabbas.” Such was Pikey’s proud concession to the light of rapture in the ignorant eyes of Miss No-Class. But she did not tell the Deputy, whose eyes were sparkling with enchantment, that the necklace was but a copy of a famous original that was strictly reserved for state occasions. Beauty, however, is in the eye of the beholder. Girlie was quite sure that these were the most authentic pearls of the Orient. When she looked again in the glass she literally felt their glamour.
Half an hour must pass before Girlie, now slightly delirious, would have to show herself in the drawing room. Blood was drumming in her temples already, an odd kind of singing was in her ears, yet in spite of the sure and clear knowledge that she was poised on the very edge of a measureless chasm, in that halfhour the dominant emotion was not fear. Girlie’s line of commercial sires were standing by her now; a certain dour practicality rallied to their daughter’s call.
Moreover, in her way, Girlie Cass was a fighter. Life for her had never been a bed of roses. And this was her chance. If only she could control her nerves and fix her will this perilous game might be worth while. Besides, whatever happened, she must not give her friend and benefactress away. Looked at rightly this was a perfectly gorgeous adventure. If only she showed pluck she had really very little to lose beyond her situation at The Laurels—a heavy penalty no doubt—yet over against that was set an opportunity for priceless first-hand experience, such as hardly one girl in a million could hope to acquire.
Let her play up and take Courage for her watchword! Even if she could not fill the rôle of a marquis’s daughter—and the event had yet to prove whether she could or she could not—the cheval glass opposite told her quite clearly that very few girls indeed could have looked the part better.