would be able to banish him from her mind. After the visitors had gone, and
she was sitting on the rug before the fire opposite her aunt, that lady
looked at her keenly and said;
"You're still happy looking after Cornelis, dear?"
Georgina put down the paper she had been glancing through.
"Yes, Aunt Polly, he's a very nice little boy, and bright for his age.
I'm teaching him chess, you know, and he gives me a Dutch lesson each
morning. He says I'm shocking at the pronunciation, and I must say some of
the words are tongue-twisters. "
"How about his chess?"
"He's good. I'm not bad, am I? But I shall have to take care not to be
beaten before very much longer."
"Do any of the others play?"
"No--at least Karel may do so, but I don't fancy he has much time at
present." She added, because she knew her aunt would ask anyway, "Professor
Eyffert plays. Cor is going to challenge him to a game when he gets back."
"And when will that be?"
Georgina got up.
"I don't know. He's a busy man, he comes and goes.
I'm going to start supper, darling. Supposing I do something to that
chicken--I can leave some to warm up for Moggy when she gets back. "
She went away to the kitchen, leaving her aunt to gaze thoughtfully into the
fire.
The weather changed before St. Nicholaas. The wintry sunshine gave way to
grey, woolly clouds and a biting wind, but despite the weather Georgina went
for her daily walks, and Beatrix, more often than not, with her. She lea mt
a great deal about the Professor from the little girl, although she was
careful never to ask questions about him, much though she longed to do so.
It was dark early on St. Nicholaas' Eve. They had tea a little earlier and
Georgina drew the chintz curtains against the gloom outside, and they sat in
a circle round the fire, with the dog Robby well in front, and Ginger and
Toto curled up carefully on either side of Cor. It was the nicest part of
the day, thought Georgina; the mornings were nice too, but filled with the
strict schedule she had devised--treatment for Cor, lessons and massage and
games of chess before lunch--but by teatime everyone was pleasantly tired,
and the children were content to sit over the Christmas decorations, which
were nearly finished. There was, naturally enough, a great deal of talk
about St. Nicholas over tea. Georgina suspected that the only one present
to believe in him was Beatrix, but this didn't prevent them all assuring her
that they would put their shoes in the fireplace when they went to bed.
It was late by the time she judged everyone was asleep, and safe for her to
go to the Professor's room. She went to the great tallboy against one wall
and opened the drawer, and looked with something like dismay at the gaily
wrapped packages within it. She should have brought a basket. Instead, she
scooped up the hem of her long quilted dressing gown and dropped them into
it, and thus loaded, slipped back through the quiet house to her own room.
Everyone, it seemed, had two presents. She sorted them carefully, and found
her name was on two of the small packages as well. Everyone in the household
had put a shoe in front of the fire in Cor's room--even Stephens had
appeared, soft- footed, with some highly polished footwear belonging to his
wife and Milly and himself. Georgina crept along the row of shoes, carefully
removing the sugar lumps and carrots with which each was filled, supposedly
for the delectation of the good saint's horse. She arranged the presents
neatly in their stead, and went soft-footed back to her room, wondering what
to do with the offerings for the horse. At length she opened her suitcase
which was in the big cupboard behind the panelled wall, and stuffed them in.
They opened their presents before breakfast-even Dimphena, who was always
last out of bed, came into Cor's room with Beatrix. Georgina,
already up and dressed, thought she looked like a fairy-tale princess, with
have cost the earth.
Each of them had a chocolate letter--the initial letter of their names,
extravagantly wrapped and beribboned--a charming custom which Cor had been at
great pains to explain to Georgina some days previously. But it was the
second package which contained the real gift. They started with Cor, who
undid his with excited hands, and whooped with joy at the watch inside.
Beatrix had one too--a small, dainty version of her brother's;
Georgina helped fasten them on and then joined in the chorus of admiration
when Franz, in his turn, showed them a camera--a Praktica, he told them
proudly--a Domiplan F2. 8/50--a piece of information which conveyed nothing
at all to his hearers, but which seemed to give him the greatest possible
satisfaction. Dimphena's box was very small; it contained pearl earrings,
exquisitely simple--exactly right for a young girl. Georgina hadn't much
knowledge of good jewellery, but even to her unsophisticated eye, they looked
real. She admired them with wholehearted sincerity and a complete lack of
envy, and led a rapturous Dimphena to her mirror to observe their beauty.
It seemed rather an anti-climax to open her own gift after that. She did so
swiftly, expecting a diary or one of those pen and pencil sets so suitable
for the sort of people for whom it was hard to find the right gift. It was
neither, but a small, fragile porcelain figure of a girl in a green and white
and gold dress, with a little dog half hidden in her skirts. Georgina held
it in her hands, speechless with pleasure, for by some delightful quirk of
fate it was something she had admired many times in an antique shop in
Saffron Walden. It was Meissen, and she had never quite plucked up the
courage to ask its price. She looked at the watching faces around her.
"I simply can't believe it!" she breathed.
"St. Nicolaas has given me something I've been wanting for months. However
did he know?"
The little figure was passed from hand to hand and duly admired, and declared
by Beatrix to be exactly right for her dear George, before being placed on
the little table by Georgina's bed. She thought about it a good deal during
the day. Of course, it was the Professor, not St. Nicholaas, who had
provided the gifts, but although he would have made it his business to find
out what his cousins wanted, she doubted very much if he would have gone to
the same trouble in her case. Besides, who was there to ask? She had never
mentioned it to anyone at Dalmers Place. It was, she concluded, one of those
happy coincidences which almost never happen.
She examined the little figure again when she was getting ready for her walk.
She was sitting on her bed, her coat half on, cradling it in her hands. She
would keep it for always; a constant reminder of Julius, even if she were
never to see him again--which seemed probable. It was unlikely that their
paths would cross once she went back to St. Athel's. She fought a strong
urge to burst into tears. That vague man of her dreams, whom she was one day
to have met and
married, had somehow turned into the Professor. He was, she
admitted to herself, the man she had been waiting for, and she loved him with
all her heart. It was a pity that he didn't feel the same way.
She put her treasure down, finished dressing, and went for a walk with
Beatrix. It was still very cold, with the smell of frost strong in the air,
mixed with the sharp tang of rotting apples in the orchards and the aromatic
smoke of burning leaves. They found a chestnut tree on their way home, and
filled their pockets with nuts, so that when the Professor telephoned they
were all crowded around the fire, roasting them on a shovel and making a good
deal of noise about it. It was while she was peeling the last of the nuts
that Georgina had her idea.
Beatrix was chattering away in Dutch to her guardian; she was about to put
back the receiver when Georgina cried, "Beatrix, just a minute. I want to
speak to your guardian," and said in a panicky little voice, "Professor
Eyffert, I'd like to go to London one day next week. Do you mind if I have
my day off during the week instead of Sunday?"
His voice came back, maddeningly placid.
"My dear good girl, take whichever day you wish-have Sunday as well if you
need to. Why do you sound so desperate?"
Georgina swallowed.
"I'm not. I--I thought Beatrix would hang up before I could speak to you."
"Is that all? I'm disappointed." He rang off.
She took the Mini to London, driving carefully, not because she was nervous,
but because it was, after all, a borrowed car, and the road was icy. She
parked it at St. Athel's, resisting an impulse to go into Cas for a gossip
with anyone who was free, and hailed a taxi. It was already dusk when she
arrived back at the hospital, loaded with parcels, having spent almost all
her money, and for that very reason feeling more cheerful than she had done
for some days. She drove back as fast as she dared, for she had said that
she would be back in time for tea with Cor and she hated to disappoint him.
As it was, they were halfway through the meal by the time she reached her
room. She arranged her parcels tidily on the chest of drawers and was on her
way to Cor's room as the telephone rang. She went and sat quietly by the
fire with her cup of tea, wondering if the Professor would want to speak to
her.
Apparently he didn't, for after a few minutes he rang off, without even so
much as his usual formal message.
She waited until she went to bed before opening her purchases. Most of them
were presents for Christmas, but some of them were for herself.
The largest box contained a dress--a long-skirted dream of a dress, of dark
green velvet, with narrow sleeves and a high neck banded with white
organdie--a feminine version of a clerical collar, its demureness accentuated
by the white organdie wristbands. She had bought velvet slippers too, and
for good measure, another lipstick.
She tried them all on before she went to bed, then hung the dress in the
magnificently fitted cupboard in the wall. In all likelihood it would stay
there until she left Dalmers Place.
The next few days were busy ones. Mr. Sawbridge came, followed by the
physiotherapist and the radiographer. The Professor had said he would be
home in two days' time, and there were only five days left before Christmas.
The decorations were almost finished; they had only to be sorted into boxes,
ready to be put up on Christmas Eve. The tree had been installed in the
drawing room by old Legg, and Mrs. Stephens sent up vast quantities of mince
pies each teatime.
Karel was home too, and Franz was on holiday from school--the old house was
alive with a cheerful bustle. It began to snow the day before the Professor
was due back. Georgina got Milly to sit with Cor while they all went outside
and built a snowman, and afterwards, at Beatrix's urgent request, had a
tremendous battle with snowballs, which left them glowing and famished. When
they went back indoors and Georgina saw Cor's rebellious face against the
pillows, she went to him and put a comforting arm around him and said:
"You may not be as big as your guardian. Cor, not in size, but you're a real
big man just the same. If you weren't I would never have been able to go
outside with the others, because you would have made a fuss, and what would
have made it unpleasant for everybody, wouldn't it? We each threw a snowball
for you, and put one of your caps on the snowman, and here's Franz with
something for you." The something was a plastic bucket, filled with snow,
which Cor, suitably protected, made into snowballs for Franz and Karel to
hurl out of the window: this restored his good humour to such an extent that
Georgina heard him repeating to his brother what she had said, with a few
embellishments which he had thought up for himself.
Karel was going out to dinner, and when the rest of them had dined they went
back to Cor's room. It was barely half past eight, and past the children's
bedtime, but Georgina saw that they were both far too excited to sleep.
"I'm going to wash my hair," she announced.
"I'll do it now, and then how about singing some carols while I'm drying it?"
Her suggestion was greeted with enthusiasm, and Dimphena made it easier by
saying that she wanted to wash her hair too, anyway. Half an hour later they
were sitting by the fire again, the girls in their dressing gowns, and
Beatrix ensconced firmly on Georgina's lap. There was a carol programme on
Cor's radio and they were all singing with gusto, but presently the programme
ended and Georgina said, "I wish we had a piano, then we could sing all we
wanted."
Dimphena, who was brushing her hair on the opposite side of the fire, looked
up.
"But we have! Not the one in the drawing room--there's one in the schoolroom
at the end of the corridor--it's on casters."
It was no sooner said than done. With Franz's help, the piano was installed;
five minutes later Georgina was seated at it, playing "The First Now- ell'
with great verve and dash, and leading the singing in a rather nice soprano.
They were singing so heartily that they failed to hear the car crunching
through the snow on the drive below; they were still singing when the
Professor opened the door. At the sight of him they stopped with the
abruptness of a cut of the scissors through tape. They surged to meet him,
laughing and talking and exclaiming;
telling him everything at once. Georgina sat at the piano, watching him as
he greeted each of them in turn while his eyes swept lazily around the room,
noting the untidy heaps of decorations overflowing their boxes, the gay
wrapping paper, the labels and string, the Christmas cards festooning the
Balkan frame over Cor's bed, the cats and Robby crossing the room to wreathe
themselves around his legs, the abandoned towels from the hair-drying
session. At the piano he blinked, and then eyebrows lifted, gave her a long
look. She reddened under it, conscious that a dressing gown and hair hanging
anyhow were the antithesis of the uniform he had requested her to wear at all
times
. He started towards her and she longed to turn and run. He would be
bitingly polite and she would be shattered. But he said, to surprise her
utterly:
' I have been looking forward to coming home-- I didn't realise how much
until the moment I entered this room. "
She stared at him while she got her breath.
"It's Christmas--the children have been so good, I thought an extra hour
would be fun for them-and it's my fault the piano is here. I hope you aren't
too annoyed."
He gave her a half smile and said without annoyance, "It amazes me how you
contrive to make me out to be an ogre. Why should I object to the
children--or you--being happy?"
His blue eyes searched her face and his smile widened.
"I can't think how we ever managed without you..."
The others had closed in around them: she looked round at their glowing faces.
"You're not an ogre. Professor, I--I think I was surprised."
Cor's voice broke in before she could say more.
"Cousin Julius, you haven't seen anything, have you? I mean anything strange
in this room?"
He sounded apprehensive. His guardian stopped his calm study of Georgina and
wandered over to the bed.
"Nor," he answered readily.
"Should I have done so?" He looked round him vaguely.
"It all looks much as usual." He was answered by a good deal of laughter and
a babel of voices, each offering an explanation, which didn't cease until he
told Franz to go down to the hall and bring up the packages he would find