CHAPTER VI.
The days that followed were racing days for Gertie. At GreatTitchfield Street a special order came in, and Madame held a kind ofrehearsal, that the girls might know exactly what to do if theinspector called. The inspector represented the State, which, in theopinion of Madame and Miss Rabbit and all the assistants, male andfemale, was an interfering busybody hampering industry, and preventinghonest workers from earning useful pay for unlimited overtime. ToGreat Titchfield Street, by day, came private letters by expressmessenger for Gertie, and more than one telegram; she generally found acommunication awaiting her on the return home to Praed Street. MissRabbit accepted the statement that these came from Gertie's cousin,referring to nothing more romantic than a visit to the country; inprivate conversation with senior girls in the workroom, she said,rather bitterly, that Miss Higham surely took her for a born idiot.
Clarence proved himself alert and quick witted in retort, with ananswer ready for every objection. When Gertie, as a final argument,put forward the matter of evening dress, he took her straightway to acelebrated firm (one-half of the lady passengers in public conveyancesalong the route gave, as their instruction and appeal to conductors,"Set me down as near as you can to Brown and Hodgkinson's!"), and therewas purchased a blouse of white lace--costing so much that Gertie, onhearing the amount, had to clutch at one of the high chairs; and asClarence paid readily with gold, the polite young woman on the otherside of the counter assured him it was well worth the money. Gertie,at another establishment, bought a pair of slippers, saying to herselfthat they would come in handy, even though she did not go to Ewelme.Reluctance to accept the invitation conveyed through Clarence wassupported at Praed Street by her aunt, who declared the girl would belike a fish out of water; that she would wish herself home again beforeshe had been there the space of two minutes. But for Mrs. Mills'sover-earnest counsel it is likely Gertie might have kept her threat (orpromise) to back out at the last moment. On the Friday night, Mrs.Mills mentioned that the Douglass people were probably only askingGertie in order to enjoy a laugh at her expense. The followingmorning, to her aunt's astonishment and open dismay, Gertie took acarefully-packed portmanteau along to the cloakroom at PaddingtonStation. In the afternoon she found herself, for the first time in herlife, seated in a second-class carriage.
"Afraid you've had rather a rush," said her cousin.
"It isn't only that," she admitted, breathlessly. "I'm excited aboutthis visit."
"Not more so than I am. All the same, I feel very much indebted toyou, Gertie, for coming with me. The letter was worded in a way thatmeant I was to bring you, or not go at all. You see Mary--MissLoriner--is only a companion at Morden Place. She couldn't have askedme on her own responsibility."
The girl closed her eyes and snuggled back in the corner. If Henryexhibited any special sign of affection, she would have to draw herselfup to her full height and say, "Mr. Douglass, you're evidently notaware that you are speaking to an engaged lady." If he went so far asto propose marriage, the situation would be still more dramatic. "Mr.Douglass, you appear to have left it too late. I am already pledged toanother!" There were alternative remarks prepared, and she feltcertain that any one of them would be telling and effective. Clearly,he wanted to see her; otherwise so much trouble would not have beenexpended over the present visit; it was her business to make him seethat a London girl was not to be taken up and dropped, and taken upagain.
"Manners," she said resolutely, opening her eyes, and addressing abarge on the canal, "manners. That's what some people have got to betaught!"
The short train brought them slowly to the one platform of the station,and before she realized it, Henry Douglass was holding both of herhands, and looking down at her affectionately. He turned to give awelcome to her cousin, and Gertie told herself there was no necessity,for the present, to be dignified or reserved; that could come later.Outside the station, Miss Loriner was talking to a horse that seemedimpatient to make its way in the direction of home; she and Clarencetook seats at the back of the dogcart with a light rug spread overknees; they made no complaint of overcrowding.
"Can you really drive?" inquired Gertie with anxiety. "You never usedto speak about it when Mr. Trew was talking."
"Life," answered Henry Douglass, "is too short to allow one to bragabout everything. I do the best I can." They took the corner and wentat a good pace through the town. "By Jove," he went on,enthusiastically, "you have no idea how I've missed you."
The first of the selected reproofs would have come in hereappropriately, but a motor car was coming in the opposite directionwith, as it seemed to her, the definite intention of running into theirconveyance; she grabbed nervously at Henry's arm. When she lookedagain the car had gone, leaving dust as a slight memento of theencounter.
"Don't take it away!" he begged.
Here again either of the sentences might have been delivered; Gertiedecided it would be sufficient to refrain from acceding to his request.Henry saluted with his whip folk who passed by, and told her who theywere; stopped at one shop to take a parcel of wools intended for hismother. He had talked about Gertie to his mother, and she was anxiousto meet Miss Higham.
"She'll be still more anxious to see me go away."
"You wouldn't say that," he asserted, "if you knew her."
"It's really Lady Douglass I'm afraid of. Look at that board,'Trespassers will be prosecuted.' I feel it's meant for me."
"Trespassers," he said, "as a matter of fact, cannot be prosecuted.The board is all nonsense. Trespassers can only be prosecuted whenthey do some sort of damage."
She glanced around to watch a baby in the garden of a cottage; ClarenceMills and Miss Loriner were kissing. Gertie did not speak again untilthey reached the iron gates.
"I want to show you the tennis court," he said. "The man here candrive your cousin and Miss Loriner up to the house." She hesitated ashe, stepping down, held out his hand. "My mother is waiting there!"
They found the grey-haired old lady resting on a low white enamelledseat, watching a game of singles between two stout men, who had thedistressed look of those who play for the sake of health and figure.The ruddier of the two was pointed out as Mr. Jim Langham, brother toLady Douglass; the other, a barrister with leanings in the direction ofpolitical work, and a present desire to be amiable towards everybody inthe neighbourhood who possessed a vote.
"Now, you are to sit down here, Miss Higham," said the old lady, "andtalk to me. I may interrupt you, now and again, but you mustn't mindthat. One of the few privileges of age."
"I don't know what to talk about."
"Talk about yourself. I've heard about you from Henry, but I want toverify the information. You work for your living, don't you? Wellnow, that is interesting. I did the same before I was married. Imarried rather well, and then, of course, there was no necessity for meto go on with it."
"When my dear mother says she wants you to talk to her," explainedHenry, "what she really means is that she wishes to talk to you. Ifyou don't mind, I'll go over and teach these men how to play tennis."
Jim Langham came across directly that the game was finished,interrupting the two as they were getting on good terms with eachother; on the way, he shouted an order to a gardener working near. Hewas effusive over the introduction to Gertie, showing his perfectteeth, and expressing the hope that she would not have to leave onMonday. The gardener brought a tumbler on a tray, and a syphon.
"At this time of the day?" said Mrs. Douglass, glancing at the contentsof the glass.
"Good whisky," retorted Jim Langham, taking a small quantity of soda,"makes one feel like another man altogether."
"In that case," said the old lady, "by all means have the drink. Mydear," to Gertie, "give me my stick and we'll walk up to the house andhave tea."
"I'll come with you," remarked Jim Langham.
"You will stay where you are," ordered Mrs. Douglass.
Gertie, at Great Titchfield Street, had
invented a house, doubled it,and multiplied it by ten; it came as a surprise to her to find that theresidence was a solid building of fair extent with a parapet wall ofstone in front, broad steps leading to the open doors. On the lawn teawas being set out by a man-servant; he lighted the wick underneath asilver kettle. Lady Douglass, in black, made an effective entrancedown the steps in the company of a dog that looked like a rat.
"How perfectly charming of you to come and see us," she cried,extending a limp hand. "We do so want some one to brighten us up.Darling," to old Mrs. Douglass, "why didn't you tell them to send thebath-chair for you?"
"Myra," retorted the other, "I walk ten times as much as you do."
"Pray take care of yourself, for my sake."
"I hope to find some better incentive than that," said the old lady.
Lady Douglass approached the task of pouring out tea with the hopelessair of one who scarcely hoped to escape error, and when she had askedfor and obtained particulars concerning tastes, Clarence Mills came,and his presence seemed to upset all the table plans; Mrs. Douglassarrested her action as she started to pour tea into the sugar basin.The arrival of Miss Loriner enabled her to resign the position. Goingacross to sit beside Gertie, she gave a highly interesting account ofthe way in which she had by sheer force of will conquered the cigarettehabit; at present she consumed but twenty a day, unless, of course,special circumstances provided an excuse.
"Not for me, thanks," said Gertie, shaking her head. "I can't smoke;and if I could, I shouldn't."
"Tell me!" begged Lady Douglass; "how is that eccentric old gentlemanwe met at the Zoological Gardens?--Crew, or Brew, or some astonishingname of the kind?"
"I don't suppose," answered the girl defensively, "that you really wantto know how he is, but Mr. Trew is quite well, and he isn't in theleast eccentric, and he doesn't profess to be a gentleman."
Henry touched her shoulder with a gesture of appeal; she gave animpatient movement.
"But how extremely interesting," cried Lady Douglass, with somethinglike rapture. "And do most of your friends work for a living?"
"All of 'em. I don't care for loafers."
"I myself have been up to my eyebrows in industry this week," said theother, self-commiseratingly. "I sometimes wish charity could beabolished altogether. It does entail such an enormous amount of hardlabour. One might as well be in Wormwood Scrubbs."
She paused and looked at the girl intently.
"By the bye, where is Wormwood Scrubbs? One often hears of it."
"Over beyond Shepherd's Bush."
"Have you ever been there?"
"No," answered Gertie; "and I've never been to Portland, and I'm notacquainted with Dartmoor, and I don't know much about Newgate. Why doyou ask?"
"I am hugely interested in prison life," declared the other.
"You mustn't be surprised," interposed Henry, addressing Gertie, "atany new subject that my sister-in-law mentions. I haven't heard herspeak of this before; and it's only fair to her to say that when shetakes up anything fresh, she drops it long before it has the chance ofbecoming stale. Another cup?"
He went to the table.
"A strange lad," said Lady Douglass musingly. "His heart is in theright place, but sometimes I wonder whether it is the right kind ofheart. Do you mind dining at seven for once in your life. MissHigham? It's a ridiculous hour, I know, but we must be at the hallsharp by eight. Miss Loriner will show you your room when you areready. I have a thousand and one things to do," she added exhaustedly.
When Jim Langham joined the party and sat on the grass beside MissHigham's chair, the girl rose, and Miss Loriner conducted her into thehouse; Henry regarded them with a cheerful smile as they left. Thedoors gave entrance to a square hall, with a broad staircase going upand turning suddenly to an open corridor that went around three sides.Gertie looked about her astonishedly.
"I've never been in a house like this before," she explained.
They went up the highly-polished staircase, Gertie holding at thebanisters for safety.
"So Mr. Henry explained to me; and because he was so very good as toask your cousin Clarence down, we have made a bargain between eachother. I am to look after you, if you don't mind, and see that you getthrough all right."
"In a general way," confessed Gertie Higham, "I can look after myself,but just now it's likely I may be glad of a wrinkle or two." The othernodded.
"I have some on my forehead to spare, thanks to Lady Douglass. This isyour room"--throwing open a door--"and mine is here, next door. Comealong in, and let us have a talk."
Miss Loriner had a good deal to say, mainly in describing her presenthappiness. Clarence was a dear; Clarence was a clever dear, Clarencehad brought a joy into her life that had previously been absent.Hitherto Miss Loriner, living in houses as a companion to some testyand difficult woman, found herself only annoyed by the attentions ofmen of the Jim Langham type; it was new and enchanting to be approachedcourteously. Gertie, when the other stopped to regain breath, managedto ask how Henry Douglass filled his time, and was surprised, andpartially hurt, to discover that he still went up to Old Quebec Streeton five days of the week.
"He might have called at the shop," she argued.
Miss Loriner, for the defence, commended him for his industry. Henrywould, later, have to face the alternative of either giving up hisoffice in London, or relinquishing duties in the country, but atpresent he was engaged in a double task; and if Gertie appreciated howdifficult it proved to deal with Lady Douglass, she would not utter aword of blame in regard to Henry. One of Lady Douglass's inconvenienttricks was to shift responsibility. As a case in point, take theentertainment to which they were going that evening. Lady Douglass,having promised to organize it, had done not a single thing in the wayof--
"Is the place on fire?" asked Gertie, startled.
"That's the first warning for dinner. You have twenty minutes todress. Be sure to let me know if there is anything you want."
Gertie left, to return immediately with a concerned expression and theannouncement that her portmanteau had been robbed of every blessedthing it contained. Miss Loriner accompanied her to makeinvestigations, and, switching on the electric light, pointed out thatthe maid had unpacked the bag--the articles were on the dressing-table,and hanging up in the wardrobe. Gertie had only to ring, and the maidwould come at once to help her to dress. Gertie said she had done thiswithout assistance since the age of three.
Apologies were made later for the brevity of the evening meal, but itseemed to her a dinner that could only be eaten by folk who had starvedfor weeks. Her cousin sat opposite, and she watched his methods aseach course arrived; envied the composure with which Clarence dealtwith such trying dishes as _vol au vent_ and artichokes. Her serviettewas of a larkish disposition, declining to remain on her lap, anddistress increased each time that Henry recovered it; generally, atthese moments of confusion, Lady Douglass took the opportunity to senddown some perplexing inquiry, and the girl felt grateful to Henry forreplying on her behalf. Henry, it appeared, was to contribute to theprogramme at the hall, but he declined to give particulars; thedisaster would, he said, be serious enough when it came. Jim Langhamexcused himself after dinner from joining the party on the grounds thathe had to play billiards with the groom; and this reminded him of oneof the groom's stories which (taking her aside) he thought Miss Highamas a Londoner would relish. The anecdote was but half told when MissHigham turned abruptly.
"That's the right way," said old Mrs. Douglass to her approvingly.
At the door of the town hall carriages and motor cars were setting folkdown, and Gertie, who had hoped the new blouse would enable her tosmile at country costumes, felt depressed by their magnificence. Inthe front row Lady Douglass stood up, nodded, gave brief ingratiatingsmiles, and told people how remarkably well they were looking. Gertie,comforted by the near presence of her cousin, glanced over hershoulder, and wished she were with the shilling folk.
"Care
to see the programme, Gertie?"
"I'll do the same as I do at a music hall," she said, "and take it asit comes. How did you think I managed at dinner, Clarence?"
"Capitally!"
"I had a knife and two forks left at the end," she said regretfully.
"A recitation," Clarence read from his programme. "Our friend ought tobe here."
"Who do you mean?"
"Bulpert. You remember Bulpert, don't you?"
"I'd nearly forgotten him," she admitted.
There was an interval after men had sung and ladies had played, and anervous youth had given imitations of popular actors who, it seemed,possessed the same tone of voice, and practised identical gestures.The curtain went up on an outdoor scene. A lady was reclining in ahammock.
"Why, it's Miss Loriner," whispered Gertie.
A man in tweeds came on backwards and collided with the hammock.
"Who's this supposed to be, Clarence?"
"Young Douglass. Made up with a beard."
An apology was made for the accident, and with the rapidity that thedrama exacts in matters of the heart, the bearded gentleman was in lessthan fifteen minutes deeply in love with the lady of the hammock. "Andif I promise to worship you all my life, will you then give me myheart's desire?" The lady, with a dexterous movement, came out of herresting-place. "You must first make a name in the world, and, handupon heart, show yourself worthy of a woman's love!"
"What's the matter, Gertie?" asked Clarence Mills.
"I've made a--made a fearful muddle of nearly everything."
"Buck up!" urged Clarence. "Don't let people see you giving way."
The bearded man was leaving when the lady bethought herself to inquirehis name; he proved to be none other than Mr. Francis Mainright, thewell-known African explorer; and after a few more words the curtaincame down on an affianced couple, with applause from all parts of thehall.
"Easy enough," said Gertie, in ceasing to clap hands, "for troubles tobe put right on the stage. It's a bit harder in real life."
Lady Douglass accepted congratulations upon the success of herentertainment, and turned at the end, before leaving the hall, torequest Gertie's attention for a moment. She was extremely anxiousthat her dear young brother-in-law should not commit an error thatmight last a lifetime. Apparently there was some one up in town whohad managed to engage his affections: Lady Douglass did not know her;Miss Higham, of course, had not her acquaintance. The young woman, shebelieved, occupied an inferior position in life, and Lady Douglasswould dearly like to have the opportunity of pointing out thatsupposing the two married, all the stories of ill-bred wives would befastened upon Mrs. Henry Douglass. Every night, in everybilliard-room, in every smoking-room in Berkshire, amusing stories, notalways true, would be told of her mistakes; dull folk might findthemselves reckoned as humorists by inventing anecdotes about her, andthe general gaiety would find itself increased. Furthermore, there wasthis to be said. Supposing--
"Are you ready, dear girl?" asked Henry. He came down the steps fromthe platform, addressing his inquiry to Gertie.
"Quite!" answered Lady Douglass. "We were just chatting about yourperformance. Miss Higham seems to think you should have had morerehearsals. Doesn't exactly say so, but that is evidently what shemeans."
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