CHAPTER FOURTEEN.
A QUESTION OF MONEY.
The next week was memorable to Claire as marking the beginning ofserious anxiety with regard to Sophie. She had looked ill since thebeginning of the term, and the bottle of aspirin tabloids had becomequite an accustomed feature on the luncheon table; but when questionedshe had always a smile and an easy excuse.
"What can you expect in this weather? No one but a fish could helpaching in these floods. I'm perfectly all right!"
But one morning this week, meeting her on an upper landing, Clairediscovered Sophie apparently dragging herself along with her hands, andpunctuating each step with a gasp of pain. She stood still and stared,whereupon Sophie instantly straightened herself, and ascended theremaining steps in a normal manner.
"Sophie," cried Claire sternly, "don't pretend! I heard you; I saw you!My dear girl, is the rheumatism so bad?"
Sophie twisted her head this way and that, her lips pursed in warning.
"S-sh! Be careful! You never know who is about. I _am_ rather stiffto-day. This raw fog has been the last straw. I shall be all rightwhen we get through this month. I hate March! It finds out all theweak spots. Please, Claire, don't take any notice. A Gym. mistress hasno business to have rheumatism. It's really very good for me to beobliged to keep going. It is always worse at the beginning of the day."
Claire went away with a pain in her heart, and the pain grew steadily asshe watched Sophie throughout the week. The pretty face was often drawnwith pain, she rose and sat down with an obvious effort; and still therain poured, and the dark fog enveloped the city, and Sophie struggledto and from her work in a thin blue serge suit which had already seenthree winters' wear.
One day the subject came up for discussion in the staff-room, and Clairewas shocked and surprised at the attitude of the other teachers. Theywere sorry for Sophie, they sympathised, to a certain extent they wereeven anxious on her account, but the prevailing sentiment seemed to bethat the kindest thing was to take no notice of her sufferings. No usepitying her; that would only make her more sorry for herself. No usesuggesting cures; cures take time, not to speak of money. The Easterholidays would soon be here; perhaps she might try something then. Inthe meantime--_tant pis_! she must get along as best she could. Therewas simply no time to be ill.
"I've a churchyard cough myself," declared the Arts mistress. "I stayedin bed all Saturday and Sunday, and it was really a little better, butit was as bad as ever after a day in this big draughty hole."
"And I am racked with neuralgia," chimed in Miss Bates. The subject ofSophie was lost in a general lamentation.
Friday evening came, and after the girls had departed Claire went insearch of Sophie, hoping tactfully to be able to suggest remedialmethods over the week-end. She peeped into several rooms before atlast, in one of the smallest and most out-of-the-way, she caught sightof a figure crouched with buried head at the far end of the table. Itwas Sophie, and she was crying, and catching her breath in a weakexhausted fashion, pitiful to hear. Claire shut the door tightly, andput her arms round the shaking form.
"Miss Blake--Sophie! You poor, dear girl! You are tired out. You havebeen struggling all the week, but it's Friday night, dear, rememberthat! You can go home and just tumble into bed. Don't give way whenyou've been so brave."
But for the moment Sophie's bravery had deserted her.
"It's raining! It's raining! It _always_ rains. I can't face it. Thepain's all over me, and the omnibuses _won't_ stop! They expect you tojump in, and I can't jump! I don't know how to get home."
"Well, I do!" Claire cried briskly. "There's no difficulty about that.I'm sick of wet walks myself. I'll whistle for a taxi, and we'll drivehome in state. I'll take you home first, and then go on myself; or, ifyou like, I'll come in with you and help you to bed."
"P-please. Oh, yes, please, do come! I don't want to be alone,"faltered Sophie weakly; but she wiped her eyes, and in characteristicfashion began to cheer up at the thought of the drive home.
There was a cheerful fire burning in Sophie's sitting-room, and thetable was laid for tea in quite an appetising fashion. The landladycame in at the sound of footsteps, and showed a sympathetic interest atthe sight of Sophie's tear-stained face.
"I _told_ you you weren't fit to go out!" she said sagely. "Now justsit yourself down before the fire, and I'll take your things upstairsand bring you down a warm shawl. Then you shall have your teas. I'llbring in a little table, so you can have it where you are." She leftthe room, and Sophie looked after her with grateful eyes.
"That's what I pay for!" she said eloquently. "She's so kind! I lovethat woman for all her niceness to me. I told you I had no right to payso much rent. I came in just for a few weeks until I could findsomething else, and I haven't had the _heart_ to _move_. I've been insuch holes, and had such awful landladies. They seem divided into twobig classes, kind and dirty, or clean and _mad_! When you get one whois kind _and_ clean, you feel so grateful that you'd pay your last pennyrather than move away. Oh, how lovely! how lovely! how lovely! It'sFriday night, and I can be ill comfortably all the time till Mondaymorning! Aren't we jolly well-off to have our Saturdays to ourselves?How thankful the poor clerks and typists would be to be in our place!"
She was smiling again, enjoying the warmth of the fire, the ease of thecushioned chair. When Mrs Rogers entered she snoodled into the foldsof a knitted shawl, and lay back placidly while the kind creature tookoff her wet shoes and stockings and replaced them by a long pair offleecy woollen bed-socks, reaching knee high. The landlady knelt to hertask, and Sophie laid a hand on the top of starched lace and magentavelvet, and cried, "Rise, Lady Susan Rogers! One of the truest ladiesthat ever breathed..."
"How you do talk!" said the landlady, but her eyes shone. As sheexpounded to her husband in the kitchen, "Miss Blake had such a way withher. When ladies were like that you didn't care what you did, but therewas them as treated you like Kaffirs."
Tea was quite a cheerful and sociable little meal, during which noreference was made to Sophie's ailments, but when the cups had beenreplaced on the central table, Claire seated herself and said with anair of decision--
"Now we're going to have a disagreeable conversation! I don't approveof the way you have been going on this last month, and it's time it cameto an end. You are ill, and it's your business to take steps to getbetter!"
"Oh!"
"Yes; and you are going to take them, too!"
"What am I going to do?"
"You are going to see a specialist next week."
"You surprise me!" Sophie smiled with exaggerated lightness. "Whatfunny things one does hear!"
"Why shouldn't you see a specialist? I defy you to give me one sensiblereason?"
"I'll do better than that. I'll give you two."
"So do, then! What are they?"
"Guineas!" said Sophie.
For a moment Claire stared blankly, then she laughed.
"Oh, I see! Yes. It is rather a haul. But it's better to harden yourheart once for all, and pay it down."
"The two guineas is only the beginning."
"The beginning of what?"
"Trouble!" said Sophie grimly. "Baths, at a guinea apiece. Massage,half-a-guinea a time. Medicine, liniments, change of air. My dear,it's no use. What's the use of paying two guineas to hear a man tellyou to do a dozen things which are hopelessly impossible? It's payinggood money only to be aggravated and depressed. If it comes to that, Ican prescribe for myself without paying a sou... Knock off all work fora year. Go to Egypt, or some perfectly dry climate, and build up yourstrength. Always get out of London for the winter months. Live in thefresh air, and avoid fatigue... How's that? Doesn't that strike you asadmirable advice?"
She put her head on one side with a gallant attempt at a smile, but herlips twitched, and the flare of the incandescent light showed her facelined and drawn with pain. Claire was silent, her heart cramping withpain.
The clock ticked on for several minutes, before she askedsoftly--
"Have you no savings, Sophie? No money to keep you if you _did_ take arest?"
"Not a sou. It's all I can do to struggle along. I told you I had tohelp a young sister, and things run up so quickly, that it doesn't seempossible to save. I suppose many people would say one ought to be ableto do it on a hundred a year; that's all I have left for myself!Hundreds of women manage on less, but as a rule they come from adifferent class, and can put up with a style of living which would beintolerable to us. I don't complain of the pay. I don't think it isbad as things go: it's only when illness comes that one looks ahead andfeels--frightened! Suppose I broke down now, suppose I broke down inten years' time! I should be over forty, and after working hard fortwenty years I should be left without a penny piece; thrown on the scrapheap, as a worn-out thing that was no more use. But I might still liveon, years upon years. Oh, dear! why did you make me think of it? Itdoes no good; only gives one the hump. There _is_ no Pension scheme, soI simply can't afford to be ill. That's the end of it."
"Don't you think if you went to Miss Farnborough, and explained toher--"
Sophie turned a flushed, protesting face.
"Never! Not for the world, and you mustn't either. Promise mefaithfully that you will never give so much as a hint. Miss Farnboroughis a capital head, but her great consideration is for the pupils; weonly count in so far as we are valuable to them. She'd be sorry for me,of course, and would give me quite a lot of advice, but she'd think atonce, `If she's rheumatic, she won't be so capable as a Gym. mistress; Imust get some one else!' No, no, my dear, I must go on, I must fight itout. You'd be surprised to see how I _can_ fight when Miss Farnboroughcomes on the scene!"
"Very well. You have had your say, now I'm going to have mine! If yougo on as you have been doing the last month, growing stiffer week byweek, you won't be _able_ to hide it! The other mistresses talk aboutit already. They were discussing you in staff-room last week. If yougo on trusting to chance, you are simply courting disaster. Now I'lltell you what I am going to do. I'm going to find out the address of agood specialist, and make an appointment for next Saturday morning. Youshan't have any trouble about it, and I'll call in a taxi, and take youmyself, and bring you safely back. And it will be the wisest and thecheapest two guineas you ever spent in your life. Now! What have yougot to say to that?"
"Oh, I don't know, I don't know! You are very kind. I suppose I oughtto be grateful. I suppose you are right. Oh, I'll go, I suppose, Imust go. _Bother_!" cried Sophie ungraciously, whereupon Claire hastilychanged the conversation, and made no further reference to health duringthe rest of her visit.
Mrs Willoughby supplied the name of a specialist; the specialistgranted an appointment for the following Saturday at noon, when the twogirls duly appeared in his consulting-room; and Sophie underwent theusual examination, during which the great doctor's face assumed aserious air. Finally he returned to the round-backed chair which stoodagainst the desk, and faced his patient across the room. Sophie waslooking flushed and pretty, she was wearing her best clothes, and shewore them with an air which might well delude a masculine eye intobelieving them much better than they really were. Claire had her usualsmart, well-turned-out appearance. They seemed to the doctor's eyes twoprosperous members of Society.
"I fear," he said gravely, "I fear that there is no doubt that yourrheumatism is the sort most difficult to treat. It is a clear case ofrheumatoid arthritis, but you are young, and the disease is in an earlystage, so that we must hope for the best. In olden times it wassupposed to be an incurable complaint, but of late years we have hadoccasional cures, quite remarkable cures, which have mitigated thatdecision. You must realise, however, that it is a difficult fight, andthat you will need much patience and perseverance."
"How soon do you think you can cure me?"
The doctor looked into Sophie's face, and his eyes were pitiful.
"I wish I could say, but I fear that's impossible. Different people areaffected by different cures. You must go on experimenting until youfind one that will suit your case; meanwhile there are certain definiteinstructions which you would do well to observe. In what part of Londondo you live?" He pursed-up his lips at the reply. "Clay! Heavy clay.The worst thing you could have. That must be altered at once. It isessential that you live on light, gravelly soil, and even then youshould not be in England in winter. You should go abroad for four orfive months."
Sophie cast a lightning glance at her companion. "It's impossible!" shesaid shortly. "I can't move. I can't go abroad. I am a High School-mistress. I am obliged to stay at my work. I am dependent on mysalary. I knew it was stupid to come. I knew what you would say. Itold my friend. It was her doing. She made me come--"
"I am very much indebted to your friend," the doctor said genially."She was quite right to insist that you should have advice, and now thatI know the circumstances, I'll try not to be unreasonable. I know howaggravating it must be to be ordered to do things which are clearlyimpossible; but you are young, and you are threatened with a diseasewhich may cripple your life. I want to do all that is in my power tohelp you. Let's talk it over quietly, and see what can be done."
"I'm in school every day until half-past four, except on Saturdays, andI can't afford to wait. I _must_ get better, and I must be quick aboutit, or I shall lose my post. If I leave this school through rheumatism,it will go down in my testimonial, and I should never get anotheropening. I'm the Gym. mistress."
"Poor girl!" said the doctor kindly. "Well," he added, "I can say onething for your encouragement; you could not help yourself more than bypreserving your present attitude of mind. To determine to get better,and to get better quickly, is a very valuable aid to material means.And now I will tell you what I propose."
He bent forward in his chair, talking earnestly and rapidly. There wasno time to be lost, since the disease was apt to take sudden leapsforward; at this stage every day was of value; the enemy must beattacked before he had made good his hold. There was a new treatmentwhich, within his own experience, had had excellent results. It was nota certainty; it was very far from a certainty, but it was a chance, andit had this merit, that a month or six weeks would prove its efficacy inany special case. If this failed, something else must be tried, butmost cures were very long, very costly. He would propose in the firstinstance giving two injections a week; later on three or even four.There might be a certain amount of reaction.
"What do you mean by reaction?" Sophie asked.
"Fever, headache. Possibly sickness, but not lasting for more thantwenty-four hours."
Sophie set her lips.
"I have no time to be ill!"
The doctor looked at her with deliberate sternness.
"You will have all your life to be ill, if you do not take care now! Iwill do what I can to help you; we will arrange the times mostconvenient to you. You might come to me at first direct from school onWednesdays and Saturdays. Later on the system will accustom itself, andyou will probably feel no bad effects. I should like to undertake yourcase myself. My charge to you will be a quarter of my ordinary fee."
"Thank you very much," stammered Sophie, "but--"
Claire jumped up, and hastily interposed.
"Thank you so very much! We are most grateful, but it's--it's beenrather a shock, and we have not had time to think. Will you allow us towrite and tell you our decision?"
"Certainly. Certainly. But be quick about it. I am anxious to help,but every week's delay will make the case more difficult. Try toarrange for Wednesday next."
As he spoke he led the way towards the door. He had been all that waskind and considerate, but there were other patients waiting; all daylong a procession of sufferers were filing into that room. He had nomore time to give to Sophie Blake. The two girls went out into thestreet, got into a taxi and were driven swiftly away. Neither spoke.They drew up before the door of Sophie's lodgin
gs, entered the cosysitting-room and sat down by the fire.
"Well!" Sophie's face was flushed, her eyes were dry and feverishlybright. "I hope you are satisfied, my dear. I've been to a specialistto please you, and a most depressing entertainment it has been.Arthritis! That's the thing people have who go about in Bath chairs,and have horrible twisted fingers. It was supposed to be incurable, butnow they have `an occasional cure,' so I must hope for the best! I dothink doctors are the stupidest things! They have no tact. He couldtell me that in one breath, and in the other that it was most importantthat I should have hope. Well! I _have_ hope. I _have_ faith, butit's not because of his stupid injections. I believe in God, and Godknows that I need my health, and that other people need it too. Mylittle sister! What would happen to her if I crocked now? I don'tbelieve He will _let_ me grow worse!"
"That's all right, Sophie dear, but oughtn't you to use the means? Idon't call it trusting in the right sense if you set yourself againstthe help that comes along. God doesn't work miracles as He did in theold way; the world has progressed since those old times, and now Heworks through men. It is a miracle just the same, though it showsitself in a more natural fashion. Don't you call it a miracle that abusy doctor should offer to treat you himself, at the hours mostconvenient to you, and to do it at a quarter of his usual fees?"
"His fee for to-day was two guineas. They always charge that, Isuppose--these specialist people. A quarter of that would mean half-a-guinea a visit. Two half-guineas equal one guinea. Later on, three orfour half-guineas a week would equal one-and-a-half to two guineas. Twoguineas equal my whole income. Very kind, no doubt--very kind indeed.And just about as feasible as if he'd said a thousand pounds."
Claire was busy calculating, her fingers playing upon her knee. Tenguineas ought to pay for the six weeks which would test the efficacy ofthe vaccine. Surely there could not be any serious difficulty about tenguineas?
"Wouldn't your brother?"
Sophie shook her head.
"I wouldn't ask him. He has four small children, and he does so muchfor Emily. More than he can afford. He works too hard, poor fellow.If it were a certainty, perhaps it might be managed somehow; but it'sonly a chance, and six weeks won't see the end."
"But the end will be quicker if you begin at once. The doctor said thatevery day was of importance. Sophie, listen! I've got the money. I'vegot it lying in the bank. I'll lend it to you. I'd love to lend it.If you'll let me, I'll send you a cheque to-night; that will pay for thefirst six weeks--"
Sophie stretched out her hand, and gave a momentary clasp to Claire'sfingers.
"You _are_ a good soul! Fancy offering that to a stranger like me!It's noble of you, my dear. Perfectly sweet! I'm awfully grateful, butit's absolutely impossible that I could accept. When could I pay youback? I've never been able to save, but I _have_ kept out of debt, andit would worry me to death to have ten pounds hanging round my neck.Besides, we shouldn't be any further. At the end of the six weeks Ishould either be better, in which case he would certainly want me to goon; or worse, when I should have to try something else! You don'tpropose that I should go on borrowing from you at the rate of one or twoguineas a week?"
"I--I'm afraid I haven't got it to give."
"Very well, then--there you are! What's the good of beginning at all?"
Claire put her hands over her face and thought with that intense andselfless thought which is as a prayer for help. The future seemed darkindeed, and the feeling of helplessness was hard to bear. Two lonelygirls, with no one to help, and so much help that was needed! Here wasindeed the time for prayer.
"Sophie, it's horribly difficult; we can't see ahead. We can only `dothe next thing.' It is your duty to take this cure _now_, and the wayhas opened for that. When we've come to the end of the six weeks, itmay open again. You said you have trust in God. It's no use talkinggeneralities, if you are not prepared to put your faith into practice.The question for to-day is, _Can you trust Him for the beginning ofMay_?"
Sophie smiled.
"I like that! That's a nice way of putting it. Yes, I can; but, Claire(I must call you Claire, you are such a dear!), I wish it didn't meanborrowing other people's money! It will be years before I can pay youback. It may be that I can never do it."
"I would have said `give,' but I was afraid it would hurt your pride.My stepfather gave me some money to buy jewellery for a wedding present,and as a pure matter of selfishness I'd get more pleasure out of helpingyou than out of a stupid brooch. And listen, Sophie, listen! I'm goingto explain.--I chose to take up teaching because I wanted to beindependent, and I knew my mother would be happier without me during thefirst years of her marriage; but she is devoted to me, and I know intime she will crave to have me back. She isn't strong, and she findsthe Indian climate trying, so very likely she may _need_ my help. Ishall never be sorry that I came to London, for work is a splendidexperience, and I am glad to have it; but I have never the feeling thatit is going to _last_. Mother comes first, and my stepfather is quitewell-off, and can afford to keep me; so if I were _needed_, I should notfeel that I was sacrificing my independence in letting him do it. Soyou see I am not quite in the same position as the other mistresses, andmoney is not of the same importance. If you were in my place, Sophie,would you hesitate to lend me a ten-pound note?"
"Guineas, please!" cried Sophie, laughing to hide her tears. "Allright, my dear, all right! I give in. I lie down. You've beaten me.I've nothing more to say. I'll take the horrid old injections, and payfor them with your money, and--and--I think I'll go to bed now, please!I've had about as much as I can bear for one short day!"
"And I'll go home and have a rest myself. I am to help at a bazaar thisafternoon, and I don't feel at all in my full beauty. Good-bye, Sophie.Cheer up! There's a good time coming!"
"There's a good time coming for _you_!" predicted Sophie confidently.
The Independence of Claire Page 14