CHAPTER III

LUNCHEON FOR TWELVE

"Mrs. Murray, Mrs. Townsend would like you to come to her room, if you please."

"Yes, Sophy, certainly. Is Mrs. Townsend's headache better this morning?"

"It's very bad, Mrs. Murray. And she's that upset about the luncheon she's giving. Cook's taken sick, too--the bad luck!"

"Since breakfast, Sophy?"

"'T was Norah and Mary served breakfast. Cook but got out of bed and went back. Mr. Townsend bade me send for the doctor. He says she 'll not leave her bed again the day. And Mrs. Townsend says the luncheon must go on, and not a bit of outside help to be had at this short notice."

Jane hurried down the hall, Sophy's laments in her ears. She found Olive sitting on the foot of her mother's bed talking perturbedly with the elder woman, in the effort to dissuade her from the purpose of attempting to entertain any guests whatever in the circumstances. But it became evident to Jane at once that Mrs. Townsend was not to be dissuaded.

"There must be somebody to be had," she asserted, as Jane drew up a chair, after laying a cool hand on the aching forehead and expressing her sympathy with the headache. "It can't be possible that Lemare could n't send me somebody if he understood the necessity--or Perceval. We don't need much done. Cook had all the preliminary baking done yesterday. It's only to get everything together."

"But that's the whole of it, mother," Olive urged. "You may say it's only a simple luncheon, but Norah and Mary are certainly not equal to it. Is n't it excuse enough to send those women word that you 're ill? I 'll telephone--or write notes, if you prefer."

She rose as she spoke, but Mrs. Townsend waved an agitated hand, and shook her head violently. "You don't understand," she moaned, pressing her hand to her head and falling back among the pillows. "There are reasons why I can't have this thing fail. Mrs. Arlo Stevenson is a most difficult person to get for any affair whatever--and this is particularly in her honour. I could have had a caterer, of course, but I consider it not good form to put small entertaining into any hands but one's cook's. I am indebted to Mrs. Wister very deeply, and she is bringing a guest whom she is very anxious to have meet Mrs. Stevenson. There are other reasons----"

"But, mother"--Olive's tone was growing impatient--"what can't be, can't be. We can't get any one."

"Perhaps I could do it," Jane began, with some hesitation. "If it's really a simple luncheon----"

"It is!" Mrs. Townsend spoke with eagerness.

"I might not be able to manage the most elaborate dishes----"

"Cook can't be too ill to tell you what is necessary."

"But, mother," Olive protested, "Jane must be at the table. She can't be in the kitchen, sending in courses."

"That's of no consequence," declared Jane, quickly. "I don't mind missing the luncheon in the least."

"They are all older women," murmured Mrs. Townsend, closing her eyes wearily. When Olive took things in hand, it was always difficult to oppose her.

"Yes, but Jane is our bride. And you expect me to be there. If Jane stays in the kitchen, so shall I."

"I don't know what to do," and the poor lady on the bed, among her pillows, looked as if she were indeed suffering.

There was a minute's silence. Then Jane spoke with gentle decision.

"Olive, dear, that is very nice of you, but I truly don't mind in the least. It is n't as if you had n't already introduced me everywhere, and I had n't been entertained over and over. If mother's guests are older ladies, my absence surely won't be noticed. And I 'd love to try what I can do. You know I 've had years of training at cookery, and if I can't manage all of Cook's dishes, perhaps I can substitute others that are n't at all common. I can promise at least that nothing will be burned."

"You are a dear child," said Mrs. Townsend fervently. She wiped away a nervous tear or two.

Olive followed Jane to her room to watch her new sister exchange her morning dress for one more suitable for the affairs she meant to take in hand.

"This is going to be fun," said Jane gaily.

"I don't see how you can think so. It's certainly very foolish of mother to persist against all odds. One would think her life depended on that luncheon."

"It does--in a way. Her poor nerves are quite worn out. I 've seen it for a long time. Having things go wrong just now is the last straw."

"Why, Jane, what's going to happen?" called Shirley, five minutes later, encountering Jane on the stairs which led to the servants' rooms on the third floor. Shirley had been up to see Cook, who adored her.

"Is Bridget able to see me?" asked Jane.

"She 'll be much flattered. It's sciatica, and it lays her low, but she can converse with intelligence, even with brilliancy. She 's in a terrible state over not being able to get up that luncheon."

"I 'm going to hold a council of war with her," and Jane disappeared into Cook's room.

Half an hour later she came out again, her eyes dancing with anticipation, pencil and paper in hand. As she ran downstairs, Sophy came up with a tray, and caught the overflow of Bridget's emotions.

"The cleverness of her!" exclaimed the invalid. "To take the menyou into her own pretty hands and think she can see to it all! She can, too, or I 'm deceived. Consultin' with me and gettin' my directions, and tellin' me where she makes bold to follow, and where she 's not quite sure. It's a pity she 's not mistress of the house in Mrs. Townsend's place--and her so wore out she ought to be at a sanitarium this minute. Look to it, Sophy, that Norah and Mary does their duty by Mrs. Murray this day, If they 're inclined to be triflin', bid them come up to me. I 'll soon put them in mind of what Mr. Murray says to me when he brought home his wife. 'Whatever you do to please her will be appreciated,' he says, 'by me.' And it's nothing I would n't do for Mr. Murray and Miss Shirley, these seven years I 've lived here. And now I 'm feelin' the same way toward Mrs. Murray."

Whether it was the potency of the message which reached scullery maid and waitress by way of Sophy, or whether it was Jane's own engaging manner, together with the respect she soon inspired by the assured and competent way in which she "took hold," there could be no question that by the end of the first hour not only Norah and Mary, but also Ellen, the laundress, were flying about as they had rarely done before, even for Bridget, who certainly knew how to get out of them work enough and to spare.

At a moment when they chanced to be all together, Jane had said to them, as with deft fingers she mixed a bowlful of ingredients, that if with their help she could only bring about the serving of a luncheon which the guests would like to eat, she should be happier than over any entertainment she herself had ever been offered. And she had been able to tell from their smiling interested faces that she was to have from that moment the best service they could give her.

Shirley, when affairs were well under way, had gone to the telephone and called up Murray's office.

"I want you to come home for a few minutes at two o'clock!" she said, imperatively.

"What for? Anything the matter?" asked her brother.

"Not a thing," said Shirley, reassuringly "But there 's something happening up here at the house that you must see."

"I 'm pretty busy."

"You 'll never forgive yourself, when you hear about it, if you don't see with your own eyes."

"All right, I 'll try to make it. Anything connected with Jane?"

"Of course. Do you suppose I 'd ask you if it was n't?"

"I'll be there."

"I thought you would," and Shirley laughed as she hung up the receiver. No doubt Murray was a happy man.

"Do you suppose Jane is going to be able to do it?" queried Mrs. Townsend, dressing with the help of Shirley and Sophy. As the hour for the arrival of her guests approached, doubts were beginning to assail her. Jane was no doubt an extremely capable young matron, but the preparing of such a luncheon as Bridget had planned meant not only accomplished cookery, but much skill and care in the details of serving. Had Jane's eyes been open during the brief period of her entertainment at various fine tables! It was too late to do anything but hope so.

"Don't worry, mother," Shirley had urged. "Jane's doing wonders. If she can keep it up she 'll surprise you."

"I had a bit sip of the booly-on just now when I was down in the kitchen," offered Sophy, "and it was elegant. And you know yourself 'm, Bridget says that's one of the most trying things of all to get tasty."

Mrs. Townsend went wanly down into her rooms, to find flowers all about, distributed by Olive's skilful fingers. She looked into the dining-room. Her table was faultlessly laid, to the last detail, and a charming arrangement of lilies was mirrored in the polished mahogany.

"Now come and rest until the last minute," urged Shirley. "And don't worry. Mrs. Arlo Stevenson won't have a thing to criticise--except the conversation."

An hour afterward, Murray, letting himself in with his latch-key, found Shirley awaiting him inside the door. "Don't say a word," she whispered. "Just walk straight past the dining-room without looking in. Mother 's entertaining Mrs. Stevenson at luncheon, you know, and it's a very solemn occasion."

Wondering, Murray, hat in hand, followed his sister as she walked demurely by the wide entrance to the dining-room, from within which he could hear a subdued murmur of voices. But once past, she hurried him, by a circuitous route, to a narrow hallway at the back of the house, which led to the kitchen. Here she stationed him, and bade him push the door open a cautious crack and peep within. He obeyed her. Shirley stood behind him, alive with anticipation, while she watched her brother's shoulders.

Shirley could not see his face, but she heard his subdued exclamation as he gazed at the scene within. She knew what it was. The luncheon had reached the salad course. Jane was arranging plates picturesque with an enticing combination of ingredients, parti-coloured, crisp and cool. Her fair arms were bared to the elbow, her cheeks were flushed. At her right hand Mary was ready with assistance, her eyes respectfully studying the arrangement--not of the salad, but of her young mistress's hair, which was certainly worth studying for its effective simplicity. The maid could never hope to match that daintiness of arrangement with her own ash-coloured locks, but she meant to try.

Murray turned about at last. "Well, by Jove!" he exploded, softly. "How does this come about?"

Shirley noiselessly closed the door and explained in a whisper. Murray's eyes grew eloquent as he listened. "The little trump!" was his comment. "I wish I could stay till she's finished. I suppose it would n't do to call her out now?"

"Mercy, no! You might upset her. So far I don't think the least thing has gone wrong."

"What possessed mother to put the thing through, anyhow? Jane ought to be in there with the others."

"It was something about entertaining Mrs. Arlo Stevenson. Mother felt it must be done, though the heavens fell. They nearly did fall, till Jane came under and held them up. As for Jane's being at the table--she did n't want to be there. And Olive would n't be, without her, so there's nothing noticeable. They 're all women of mother 's age--on some special board of charities, or something like that, that makes them congenial."

"Its making them congenial does n't necessarily follow, unfortunately. So Olive stayed out, did she? That's one count for Olive. Why is n't she helping Jane, though?"

"Jane would n't have either of us in the kitchen. Olive did the flowers, and Norah and I the table. I got in an English fashion or two that will either drive mother to distraction or fill her with pride. I forgot to tell her," and Shirley began to laugh. She led Murray away to safer regions, but he looked at his watch and said he must be off.

"Wasn't it worth coming up for?" she demanded.

"No question of that. Much obliged for letting me know. I 'll settle with Jane later. Take her out for a drive, or something, to cool her off, will you? Good bye!" And Murray vanished, smiling to himself. "That ought to make her pretty solid with mother," he reflected, as he raced to his car.

But when the last guest had rustled away, Mrs. Townsend was in no condition to fall upon Jane's neck and overwhelm her with thanks. Instead she had to be carried to her room by Phelps, the coachman--summoned in haste from the stable--and put to bed by her daughters. Her physician arrived in short order, and his edict, when he had telephoned for a nurse, was stern.

"When you society women stop putting yourselves through a grind that no strong man could stand up under, you will get a grip upon your nerves," said he. "Mrs. Townsend was at the end of her forces two months ago, and I told her so. She has simply been keeping up on will--with the inevitable result. The moment she is fit to travel she must get off to the quietest place on my list--and stay there. Home would be a better place for her, if she would obey the rules; but she won 't, so that settles it. And you, Miss Olive"--he turned abruptly to the elder daughter of the house--"would do well to go with her. It's evident you 've been travelling along the same road."

"O Doctor Warrener, how absurd you are! I 'm perfectly well. And I 've half a dozen invitations to lovely places. They 'll do me far more good than going to some invalid resort and taking baths."

He shook his head. "You're all alike," said he. "I may talk till I 'm dumb--you 'll pay the price. And when you 've paid it, you 'll remember."

"There are two," said Olive, indicating Jane and Shirley, "who will never have nervous prostration on account of overdoing society."

Doctor Warrener surveyed them, and the grimness of his face relaxed. "I'll acquit them on their faces," said he. "Tell your husband, Mrs. Murray, to shut you up in a bandbox--or, better, take you off West to that place where he got back his health--before he lets you drift into the swirl. As for Shirley,"--he laid his hand upon her shoulder--"if I'm any reader of destiny--and I ought to be--she 's going to swing that tennis racquet for several years yet before she gives up and settles down."

All this had happened before Mr. Townsend and Murray came home. Mrs. Townsend's breakdowns after fatigue in fulfilling her engagements, and the summoning of the doctor, had become too frequent occurrences to imply the sending for her husband. The orders away, for rest and recuperation, were also, within the last few years, of semi-annual recurrence.

"It simply means," said Murray, pacing with Jane up and down the long flower-bordered walk between the house and the tennis-court, "it simply means six weeks or two months for you to try your hand at being mistress of the establishment. And judging by what I saw that hand do to-day----"

Jane looked quickly up at him.

"I should say that it was competent to run anything. That salad was a--what do women say?--a symphony--a star. Not that I care much for salads myself, but to see you putting it together----"

"Murray--you didn 't!"

"Didn't I? You had on a pink-and-white checked apron that came up over your shoulders. Your sleeves were short, and your hair curled round your ears, the way it does on damp days. You----"

"Where were you? How did you know! Who----"

"I was on the other side of the door, which you forgot to lock. Never in my life was I so bowled over by the sight of a girl in a kitchen."

"If I had known you were looking----"

"Precisely. That was why Shirley wouldn't let me call you out. Of course I should have kissed you--I never felt more like it--and that might have endangered the composition of the salad."

"I 'm afraid it would," laughed Jane. "As it was, I made the one real mistake of the luncheon--I sent that salad in on the game plates! The girls were in such a flurry they did n't notice till the plates began to come out again. I hope mother did n't mind very much."

"I 'll warrant nobody else did. Mrs. Arlo Stevenson is as short-sighted as an owl in the day-time, and as I understand it, Mrs. Stevenson was the guest who counted--goodness knows why! I think she's insufferable. I 'm glad mother 's got her off her mind, for the time being. It will give her a chance to recuperate. Poor mother! She misses a lot of fun, does n't she?"

"She thinks it's we who miss it."

"Perhaps we can show her better some day--when we 've been very good and earned that house by ourselves. Hi! What?" exclaimed Murray. "How you jumped! Did you think that house by ourselves was n't really to materialise some day?"

"I--wasn't sure." Jane's voice was low. She did not mean to show how much she cared, or how she longed to believe definitely in a prospect which, as yet, had not been in so many words held out to her.

"Why, it's a certainty! Have n't I made that clear, little girl? You know, when I told you how anxious father was to have us live with them, I said it would n't be for all time. Don't you remember that?"

"I know. But I thought----"

"You thought, I see, it meant while he needed me, which would be as long as he lived. No, he does n't insist on that. It was to be only while he stayed an active partner in the business. He wanted me at his elbow, and I did n't feel like refusing him. He means to retire within five years--or sooner, if his health shows signs of breaking. Then he understands that I 'm to have a home by myself--build one, you know. Well, well, what a squeeze my arm is getting! Are you so glad?"

"I'm pretty glad. It's not that--that this place is n't pleasant, and everybody more than kind, but----"

"You needn't be afraid to tell me--in fact, you don't need to tell me. You 're too much of a born Jenny Wren not to want to feather your own nest. And I want to see you do it. We 'll begin to look over plans. We can talk about it and think about it----"

"No, we can't, Murray."

"Why not? Isn't anticipation----"

"Yes, but it would make it harder to wait. Now I know it's sure, I can----"

"Be good?" said her husband. "You are being good--heavenly. What you did to-day--well, if you could have known what I thought about you when I saw you out there putting those pretty shoulders to the domestic wheel--proud is n't the name for it. And let me tell you, Janey Townsend, it is n't every girl who could take command of the forces and have them working for you at the top of their ability, like that. Norah has n't a nose and chin of that perky shape for nothing; and Mary can soldier for fair when she chooses. As for Sophy--but you had Sophy for your own from the start. And it 's not been done with tips, either, has it? Honestly, now, have you ever given Sophy a tip since you came to the house?"

"A tip?" said Jane. "Money, you mean? Why, no. Should I? I never thought of it. Does she expect it?"

"She probably doesn't now--from you--or want it, as long as you reward her with your smiles and ask about her invalid brother, the way I overheard you doing the other day. She'd probably rather have your friendly interest than all Olive's dollar bills. Oh, there are several ways of winning people's loyalty, dear--and yours is the best. Only everybody can't do it. Do you know, gentle Jane, I 'm a good deal interested in seeing you in the role of mistress of this house for a while?"

"Murray, I 'm so doubtful about it!"

"You need n't be. The commanding officer who has proved to his regiment that in an emergency he can work with them, shoulder to shoulder--and work better than they can--need have no fears. It 'll just be a case of 'Bridget, Norah, Sophy, Mary, Ellen--fall in! Shoulder arms! March!' And off the regiment will go, heads up, chests out, eyes to the front."