by L. T. Meade
CHAPTER XXIV.
DOVE'S JOKE.
Primrose had always been considered a very good manager. Her talentsfor contriving, for buying, and, in short, for making a shilling dothe utmost that a shilling was capable of, had been observable fromher earliest days. In the last years of her mother's life Primrose hadbeen entrusted with the family purse, and the shopkeepers at Roseburyhad known better than not to offer this bright-looking young lady thebest that they had at the lowest price. Primrose, therefore, when shecame to London, had felt pretty confident that the talents which sheknew she possessed would stand her in good stead. She still hoped tofind the cheapest shops and to get the best for her money. She laidher plans with accuracy and common sense, she divided the little sumwhich the three had to live on into weekly instalments--she resolvednot to go beyond these. But, alas! Primrose had never reckoned on acertain grave difficulty which here confronted her. Hitherto herdealings had been with honest tradespeople; now it was hermisfortune, and her sisters', to get into a house where honesty wasfar from practised. In a thousand little ways Mrs. Dove could pilferfrom the girls--she would not for the world have acknowledged toherself that she would really steal; oh, no--but she did not considerit stealing to use their coal instead of her own--of course, bymistake; she by no means considered it stealing when she baked alittle joint for them in her oven on Sunday to boil it first, and inthis way secure a very good soup for various hungry young Doves; shedid not consider it stealing to so confuse the baker's account thatsome of the loaves consumed by her children were paid for by Primrose;nor did she consider it stealing to add water to the milk with whichshe supplied the Mainwarings; above all things, and on this point shewas most emphatic, she thought it the reverse of stealing to borrow.Primrose had not been a fortnight in her house before she began to askfirst for the loan of an odd sixpence, then for half-a-crown, for ashilling here, and two shillings there. When she returned thehalf-crown it was generally done in this fashion--
"Oh, if you please, miss, I want to settle my little account. Oh,dear, dear! I was certain I had half-a-crown in my purse. Well, to besure, I forgot that Dove took it with him when he went out to hiswork this morning. Please, Miss Mainwaring, will you accept one andsixpence on account, and we'll settle the rest in an hour or two.There, miss, that's quite comfortable."
Yes, the arrangement was certainly quite comfortable for Mrs. Dove,who could score out the half-crown debt from her slate, and quitestare when Primrose ventured to ask her for the odd shilling stillowing.
Still, incredible as it may sound, Mrs. Dove considered herself astrictly honest woman. Perhaps, had the girls only to deal with herthey might have struggled on, badly, it is true, but still after afashion. But, alas and alas! if Mrs. Dove considered herself honest,Mr. Dove did not pretend to lay claim to this very excellent quality.Poor Primrose little guessed that that lost five-pound note, which hadgiven her such trouble, and which had almost brought gray hairs to herbright yellow head, had been really taken by Dove, who had come up tothe attics when the girls were away, had quietly taken the hinges offPrimrose's trunk at the back, had lifted the lid, and had helpedhimself neatly and deftly to that solitary note!
When the girls discovered their loss no one had been more indignantthan Dove. He had come up himself to speak to them about it, hadexamined the trunk in their presence, had told them that he had acousin of his own in the detective business whom he would put on thescent of the thief, and in the meantime he'd be very pleased, althoughhe was a remarkably poor man, to lend the young ladies ten shillings.
Although they would not think of accepting his loan, the girls thoughtthat Dove had behaved rather kindly on this occasion, and theycertainly never in the least suspected it was into his pocket theirmoney had gone.
Without being at all, therefore, to blame, poor Primrose foundherself, as Christmas approached, and the days grew short and cold,with very little money in her possession; of course, her quarter'sallowance would soon be due, but some days before it came she hadbroken into her last sovereign. Still, she had a resource which hersisters had forgotten, and which, luckily for her, Dove knew nothingat all about--she still had that letter of Mr. Danesfield's. She hadnever opened it, but she always kept it safely locked up in her trunk.Not for worlds would she yet break the seal--no, no, this letter wasmeant for an hour of great need. Primrose fondly and proudly hopedthat that dark and dreadful hour would never approach and that, havingwon success, she and her sisters might yet return the letter unopenedto its kind donor. In these dark days before Christmas she kept up herheart, and worked hard at her china-painting, achieving sufficientsuccess and power over her art to enable her to produce some pretty,but, alas! as yet unsaleable articles. Mr. Jones, her master, assuredher, however, that her goods must ere long find a market, and shestruggled on bravely.
Perhaps, on the whole, Jasmine was more tried by her present life thanher sister. Jasmine's was a more highly-strung temperament; she couldbe more easily depressed and more easily elated--hers was the kind ofnature which pours forth its sweetest and best in sunshine; did thecold blasts of adversity blow too keenly on this rather tropicallittle flower, then no expansion would come to the beautiful blossoms,and the young life would fail to fulfil its promise. Jasmine was nevermeant by nature to be poor; she had been born in Italy, and somethingof the languor and the love of ease and beauty of her birthplaceseemed always to linger round her. She had talents--under certainconditions she might even have developed genius, but in no sense ofthe word was she hardy; where Primrose could endure, and even conquer,Jasmine might die.
The little sister, who was too young to acutely feel any change whichdid not part her from Primrose and Jasmine, was, perhaps, the only oneof the three whose spirits were on a par with what they were in theold Rosebury days; but although Daisy's little mind remained tranquil,and she did not trouble herself about ways and means, nor greatly fretover the fact that the skies were leaden, and the attic room foggy,still Daisy also suffered in her rather delicate little body. Shecaught cold in the London fogs, and the cold brought on a cough, andthe cough produced loss of appetite. The two elder sisters, however,were scarcely as yet uneasy about her, and it was only Miss Egertonwho saw the likeness to little Constance growing and growing inDaisy's sweet face. Thus Christmas drew near, and the girls had notyet found their mission in life; they were by no means crushed,however, nor was Primrose tired of repeating what she firmly believed,that with the New Year some of the sunshine of London life would betheirs.
The quarterly allowance from Mr. Danesfield always arrived on thefirst of the month. On the first of December this year the welcomeletter, with its still more welcome enclosure, was duly received. Thegirls celebrated the event with a little breakfast feast--they atewater-cresses, and Primrose and Jasmine had a sardine each to addflavor to their bread and butter. Whatever happened, Daisy always hadher fresh egg, which she shared with the Pink, for the Pink had beenbrought up daintily, and appreciated the tops of fresh eggs. On thisoccasion Mrs. Dove herself brought up Primrose's letter. Letters cameso seldom to the girls that Mrs. Dove felt it quite excusable to gazevery hard at the inscription, to study the name of the post town whichhad left its mark on the envelope, and lingering a little in the room,under cover of talking to Jasmine, to watch Primrose's face as sheopened the cover.
"It is from Mr. Danesfield, is it not, Primrose?" exclaimedJasmine--"Oh, I beg your pardon, Mrs. Dove; no I didn't much care forthat new story which is begun in _The Downfall_."
Mrs. Dove had a habit of dropping little curtseys when she meant to beparticularly deferential--she now dropped three in succession, andsaid in a high-pitched, and rather biting voice--
"It isn't to be expected that the opinions of young ladies and ofwomen who have gone through their world of experience, and thereforeknow what's what, should coincide. I leave you ladies three to readyour refreshing news from absent friends."
Mrs. Dove then turned her back, and meekly shutting the door behindher, left the girls to thems
elves.
"Them attics have become rather too uppish for my taste," she said toDove when she got downstairs. "I took them a letter just now, and, myword! they had not eyes nor ears for me, though I toiled up all theweary stairs, which my shortness of breath don't agree to. It wasn'teven 'Thank you very much, Mrs. Dove,' but all three of them, theireyes was fixed on the letter as if they'd eat it. It's my belief,Dove, that they're short of funds, for when I went yesterday to askfor the trifling loan of tenpence three-farthings to pay the cobblerfor Tommy's boots, Miss Mainwaring said, as pretty as you please, butvery prim and firm--'I haven't really got the money, Mrs. Dove.' Well,well, I've done a deal for those girls--elbow grease I've given them,and thought I've given them, and books for the improving of theirintellecs I've lent them, and that's all the return I get, that when Ibring up a letter it isn't even 'Thank you, Mrs. Dove.' What I say isthis, Dove, shall I give the attics notice to quit?"
"By no manner of means," answered Dove--"you mark my words, Mrs. Dove,my only love, that why they were so flurried over the letter justreceived was because there was money in it. Don't you turn away nice,genteel, quiet-spoken young ladies from this house. There's mostlikely a postal order in that letter, and my name ain't Dove if Idon't get my gleanings from it."
"Oh, fie, Dove! you will have your joke," answered his wife; but shesaid nothing further about giving the Mainwarings notice to quit.