Mildred Arkell: A Novel. Vol. 1 (of 3)Wood, Henry, Mrs.
General
Mildred Arkell: A Novel. Vol. 1 (of 3)
Wood, Henry, Mrs.
Fiction
"Yes; he will not allow tickets to be purchased. He does not approve of
the concert. And he says, if the tickets cost but a shilling each, he
should think it a sin to give it."
Charlotte sat down, the picture of dismay.
"Where will be the use of our new dresses now!" she exclaimed.
"Where will be the use of anything," retorted Mrs. Arkell. "Don't whirl
your chain round like that, Charlotte, giving me the fidgets!"
Charlotte dropped her chain. A bright idea had occurred to her.
"If papa's objection lies in the purchase of tickets, let us ask Henry
Arkell for his, mamma. Mrs. Peter is sure to be too ill to go."
One minute's pause of thought, and Mrs. Arkell caught at the suggestion,
as a famished outcast catches at the bread offered to him. If a doubt
obtruded itself, that their appearing at the concert at all would be
almost as unpalatable to her husband as their spending money upon its
tickets, she conveniently put it out of sight.
The gentlemen forming the choir of the cathedral, both lay-clerks and
choristers, had been solicited to give their services to the concert; as
an acknowledgment two tickets were presented to each of them, in common
with the amateur performers. Henry Arkell had, of course, two with the
rest, and these were the tickets thought of by Charlotte.
Not a moment lost Mrs. Arkell. Away went she to pay a visit to Mrs.
Peter--a most unusual condescension; and it impressed Mrs. Peter
accordingly, who was lying on her sofa that day, very poorly indeed.
Mrs. Arkell at once proclaimed the motive of her visit; she did not
beat about the bush, or go to work with crafty diplomacy, but she
plunged into it with open frankness, telling of their terrible
disappointment, through Mr. Arkell's objecting, on principle, to buy
tickets.
"If you do not particularly wish to go yourself, Mrs. Peter--I know how
unequal you are to exertion--and would give Henry's tickets to myself
and Charlotte, I should feel more obliged than I can express."
There was one minute's hesitation on Mrs. Peter Arkell's part. She had
really wished to go to this concert; she was nursing herself up to be
able to go; and she knew how greatly Lucy, who had but few chances of
any sort of pleasure, was looking forward to it. But the hesitation
lasted the minute only; the next, the coveted tickets, with their pretty
little red seal in the corner, were in the hand of Mrs. Arkell.
She went home as elated as though she had taken an enemy's ship at sea,
and were sailing into port with it.
"Sophy must make up her mind to stay at home," she soliloquized. "It is
her papa's fault, and I shall tell her so, if she's rebellious over it,
as she is sure to be. This gives one advantage, however: there will be
more room in the carriage for me and Charlotte. I wondered how we
should all three cram in, with new white dresses on."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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