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More About Pixie

<h3>Chapter Thirteen.</h3> <h4>Bargain-Hunting.</h4> Two days after Sylvia’s return home, Pixie took the tinted photograph across the road for inspection. She had toiled at it with conscientious effort, but, alas! the result was pathetically bad, the paint being laid on in uncertain daubs, while carmine cheeks and scarlet lips laid the buxom lady under suspicion of sickening for fever or some other deadly complaint. Pixie herself was vaguely disquieted by the general effect, but, as she earnestly explained, you “got used to it after a bit, and it didn’t look so bad. And even if it was only half price this time, it would be encouraging to the family!” Sylvia refrained from criticism, but helped to pack the work of art between two sheets of cardboard in readiness for the post, and after that was done, took her visitor downstairs to be introduced to Miss Munns. The old lady was sitting darning stockings, with a newspaper spread over one half of the table and a little bowl standing ready to receive the snippings of worsted. On the baize cloth at the other end stood an indiarubber plant and four little artificial ferns. A gas fire flickered in the grate, a wire blind shut out the view, the chairs stood ranged in mathematical order against the walls, the very newspaper was folded into an accurate square and put away in the rack, and Pixie looked round with awed eyes the while she was introduced. “This is Bridgie’s youngest sister, Aunt Margaret—Pixie O’Shaughnessy.” “I hope you are quite well, my dear,” said Miss Munns. “Good morning, madame!” said Pixie in her most Parisian manner, not attempting to shake hands, but bowing with an air of gracious effusion from half-way across the room. Aunt Margaret let the stocking drop in her lap and stared over her spectacles, shaking her head solemnly as Sylvia related how the new-comer had just returned from Paris, where she had been living under the charge of an old governess. “That accounts for it!” she said darkly, when the explanations were finished. “I never can understand why people want to go abroad when there are so many good schools at their door. When I was a girl I went to Miss Banks at Peckham, and it was most select. Every girl over fifteen wore a bonnet; mine was white Dunstable, with check ribbons, blue and white. I wore it with a dress with silk pipings, and it was very much admired. My cousin Gertrude went to Paris, because her father had business on the Continent, and she never got over it for years. They gave her dreadful food, and when she could not eat it, it was put aside and brought up meal after meal. She told me as a solemn fact that they used to put fruit in the soup, and there was something dreadful made of cabbages. Did they give you cabbages, my dear?” “Mais oui, madame!” returned Pixie, involuntarily returning to the language of the place of which they were speaking. “But they were delicious, those cabbage! Mademoiselle has without doubt had an unhappy experience. The cabbage of France is a most excellent cabbage. He resembles himself absolutely to an English cabbage, but he is more well prepared.” “Speak English, my dear, for pity’s sake! I never could understand that gibberish. My poor father paid extra for me to learn under a native, but it seemed as if I always turned against it. Well, I don’t understand about the cabbages; Gertrude certainly said they were quite sour, and mixed with all manner of horrible things!” “Perhaps you mean sauerkraut, Aunt Margaret. She would hardly have that in Paris. Are you quite sure it was not Germany where she was at school?” “Berlin, was it? Berlin!” said Miss Munns, meditating with her finger to her lip. “Yes, I think it was, because I remember I always associated it with the wool. All these foreign schools are alike. Nothing comes of them but bowing and scraping. Give me a good sound English education!” Miss Munns threaded her needle through the heel of the black stocking with an expression which seemed to imply that the last word was spoken on that subject, and Pixie put on her most engaging manner as she replied, as if anxious to prove that she was not altogether ruined by her Continental experiences— “Madame is without doubt so clever that she does not need to be taught. Sylvia has told us that you could teach Bridgie better than anyone else. She is the best meaner in the world, is Bridgie, but it comes natural to her to forget. Sylvia said it was wonderful the way you managed the house. You could find the blue-bag in the dark!” “Find—the blue-bag—in the—dark! Why should I find the blue-bag in the dark? What do I want with it in the dark? The blue-bag! Why should I look for the blue-bag?” cried Miss Munns, all anxiety to fathom the meaning of this perplexing statement. The most elaborate explanations on Sylvia’s part failed to solve the mystery, and she kept on reiterating, “Why blue-bag?” in tones of baffled curiosity, while Sylvia lay back in her chair and sighed, and raised her eyebrows and stared hopelessly at the corner of the ceiling. It was a trying moment, but Pixie entered gallantly into the breach, and succeeded in diverting attention into another channel. “It was just to shame us beside you, because we couldn’t find it in the light. The sugar-basin would have done just as well. My family had gone on spending money when there was none to spend, until now at last it’s all gone, and Jack says we must begin to be careful. Bridgie thought maybe if you would give her a hint it would be useful, as she has no one to teach her.” “I never earned a sovereign in my life, but I should be afraid to say how many I have saved!” said Miss Munns complacently. “There is nothing wasted in my house, my dear, and I should be only too thankful to tell your sister the way your servants behave when her back is turned. The light is flaring in their bedroom until after eleven at night, and I’ve seen them myself running after the grocer’s lad to give him extra orders. Does your sister allowance them in butter and sugar? Depend upon it, if she doesn’t, they eat twice as much as they should. “If she brings her books over to me, I will tell her exactly what quantities she ought to order. It’s hard on a young man like your brother to have to provide for such a long family. I suppose you will be doing something for yourself in a couple of years when you are old enough to go about alone. You will be able to turn your education to account, and give lessons in the French language. You look more French than English, as it is, and have just their way of twisting yourself about as you talk.” “Aunt Margaret!” cried Sylvia reproachfully, but Pixie’s eyes brightened as at a sudden suggestion, and she cried eagerly— “Do I? Do I really? Oh, I’m so glad! If you saw me in the street, would you think I was a Parisian? Oh, thank you so much for saying so!” “Humph! You’re easily pleased. I should not take it as a compliment if anyone said that to me. I’m an Englishwoman, and a good subject of Queen Victoria, and I’m thankful to say I look it. No one would mistake me for a French madam!” “No, they wouldn’t. You are a different shape,” said Pixie truthfully, whereupon Miss Munns sent a sharp inquiry over the edge of her spectacles, but the glance which met hers was so guileless that no suspicions could live in its presence. So she said, “Humph!” once more, and that ended the discussion. Pixie renewed her study of the newspapers with fresh interest after this conversation, and made marks against quite a number of advertisements, which, however, she took no active steps to answer, pending the verdict from the photographic company. It came at last, and proved to be a judicious mingling of praise and blame. The painting of the photograph, said the critic, displayed great taste and artistic promise, though unfortunately the execution did not quite come up to the high standard of excellence required by the firm. No doubt this deficiency was largely caused by a lack of proper materials, and he would strongly recommend further expenditure of five shillings, for a complete artist’s outfit, given which, and a little more practice, he had no doubt whatever of being able to send a constant supply of work, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. Sylvia was shown this missive in due course, and tossed it from her with impatient hand. “You must not send it, Pixie! You must not dream of sending it. Don’t you see, dear, they only want to get money from you instead of giving it themselves? You have already sent three shillings, and now they want five more, and probably next time there would be another excuse for getting some more. You can’t afford to throw away money like that, especially without Bridgie’s knowledge or consent. Give it up, dear, and have no more to do with them.” “I will!” said Pixie sadly; “but you mustn’t blame them, poor creatures, for it’s my own fault. It’s the truth that I was short of paints, for the ones they sent were so dry I could hardly get them to mark, and the colours wouldn’t seem to come right. It’s very kind of them to promise me work, but I must give it up, for I can’t do better without taking lessons, and where would be the profit in that? I took hours, and hours, and hours painting that lady, and ye saw yourself she looked more like a beetroot than a human creature. Don’t you say a word to Bridgie, and I’ll promise you faithfully I won’t send another penny. I’ve a new idea in my head, which maybe will turn out best of all.” She refused to say anything more explicit on the subject, but hinted that definite information might be forthcoming on the following evening, and Sylvia wondered what new web for the unwary had caught this most innocent little fly in its meshes. She concluded that Pixie must be expecting another prospectus, but next day the two sisters came across the road for a few minutes’ chat en route for a shopping expedition, and all the time that the elder was speaking, the younger stood in the background, rolling her eyes and mouthing unintelligible messages, evidently intended to convey the information that some great issue was at stake. “Don’t you envy me, me dear? I am going to buy new clothes!” announced Bridgie, beaming. “Esmeralda gave me a five-pound note before she left, and, ‘For pity’s sake,’ she said, ‘buy yourself a decent gown! You’re a disgrace to be walking about the streets, and with Pixie so smart as she is, too. Now’s your chance to get something cheap at the sales!’ and with that you should have heard her groan to think she’d lost all the pleasure of hunting for bargains through marrying a rich man! I want a dress, and a jacket, and a hat, and a blouse or two for the house, and gloves, and—” “Don’t you wish you may get them!” cried Sylvia mockingly. She watched the two girls walk down the road, and noted that Pixie was arrayed in her very best clothes to do honour to the mysterious errand, whatever it might be. Her felt hat was tilted at an extraordinary angle; the smart little jacket looked quite different from the ordinary bulky winter garments which one was accustomed to see; her boots were of patent leather, and her muff was decorated with a huge rosette, and ends of ribbon. Miss Munns might have truthfully declared that she looked French this morning, and there was a suggestion of a strut in her walk which seemed to speak of personal satisfaction in her appearance. Bridgie did indeed look shabby beside her, but then no clothes, however poor, could ever make the sweet thing look anything but a lady, and she too held up her head in triumphant fashion, for was she not going shopping with five bright golden sovereigns in her purse? When Oxford Street was reached, the novices eagerly examined the windows of a famous drapery establishment, in which the most thrilling bargains were displayed to decoy the passers-by, and on the happy Irish principle of placing the pleasantest duty first on the list, elbowed their way upstairs to the millinery department. The room was blocked with a throng of excited females all engaged in lifting hats from their pegs and trying them on before the various mirrors. Sometimes two of the number would set their affections on the same treasure, and then the one who had been unsuccessful in obtaining possession would stand gloomily by ready to pounce upon it the moment her adversary laid it down. Two or three assistants stood at bay trying to answer a dozen questioners at once, and experienced bargain-hunters were turning over the contents of the drawers with one hand, and grasping four or five bonnets in the other. For a few moments the new-comers were too much bewildered to know what to do first, but the spirit of plunder soon laid hold of them in their turn, and they began to pounce upon the most fascinating of the spoils and to try them on in breathless excitement. Bridgie looked charming in all, her small head and cloud-like hair making her an easy person to suit, but, alas! the prices still seemed ruinous to her innocent mind, and she sadly turned her attention to the more simple of the models. These were by no means so becoming as their predecessors, and Pixie’s criticisms were as usual strictly truthful as she regarded them. “Ye look a fright. Ye look old enough to be your own mother. It takes all the colour out of your face. You look quite yellow!” Bridgie tore the hat from her head, and seized upon a modest brown toque which lay close at hand. “Is that better, then? Is that dowdy enough to suit you?” “It’s hidjus!” cried Pixie with emphasis. “It’s uglier than the other. I wouldn’t have it given to me as a present. You look an object from the side!” “But it’s useful—it is useful!” sighed Bridgie dejectedly. Buying hats was not so exciting as she had imagined if she were obliged to abjure the pretty ones, and buy the useful in which she appeared to such painful disadvantage. “And I expect it is cheap, Pixie. Very cheap! I have, to think of that, remember!” She tilted the hand-glass to the side to study the effect which had been condemned, and as she did so, a sepulchral voice said grimly in her ear, “When you have quite finished with my hat!” and she turned to behold a severe-looking, elderly lady staring fixedly at her headgear, and holding out her hand to claim it as her own. Poor Bridgie! her cheeks flamed for the next hour. She was so hot, and breathless, and agitated that she would have rushed straightway from the department, but Pixie stood her ground and remained serenely unperturbed. “’Twas true!” she cried. “’Twas only the truth she heard. ’Twas hidjus, and no words of yours would make it pretty. And as for cheap, she ought to take that for a compliment, seeing the pains she’s taking to get another like it! Somebody must be trying on your own hat, I’m thinking. It was lying over the rail of that chair where the fat lady is resting. You’d better be asking her what she’s done with it.” Bridgie walked forward and put an anxious Inquiry, whereupon the fat lady leapt up in alarm, and there against the back of the chair lay a poor flattened object, with battered crown and crestfallen bows—all that was left of Bridgie’s very best hat! She was horrified at the sight, but the fat lady was more horrified still, and so lavish in her apologies that it was impossible to cherish anger against her. She insisted upon herself smoothing out the ribbons and moulding the crown into something like the original shape, and in doing so bestowed the information that there was another millinery department downstairs, where there might possibly be less crowd and more chance of attention. <hr></div> <div class="bodytext"> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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