*CHAPTER VI*
*MILLICENT JACKSON GIVES SOME INFORMATION*
"What a one-eyed sort of place this is," said Isobel inelegantly, as shecame out of the village drapery establishment and joined Pamela, who waswaiting on the green outside.
"I was just thinking how charming the little village looks," saidPamela, "clustering round this wide stretch of green with the pond andthe ducks. And look at the lanes and hills and woods rising in thebackground! It _is_ picturesque."
"Oh, it may be frightfully picturesque and all that," Isobel replied,"but picturesqueness won't provide one with black pearl buttons to sewon one's gloves. Would you believe it--not one of these _impossible_shops keeps such things. 'Black pearl buttons, miss. I'm sorry wehaven't any in stock. Black _bone_--would black bone do--or a fancybutton, miss?'" Isobel mimicked the voice of the 'creature' (as shecalled her) who served in the tiny draper's shop.
"Well, I suppose they're not often asked for black pearl," said Pamela,as they moved on. "And wouldn't black bone do?"
"Black _bone_!" said Isobel disdainfully.
"Well, you can't expect to find Oxford Street shops down here inBarrowfield," smiled Pamela. "And it's jolly lucky there aren't suchshops, or Barrowfield would be a _town_ to-morrow. Still, is thereanywhere else you'd like to try?"
"No, I shan't bother any more to-day," Isobel sighed. "I did wantthem--but I'll wear my other gloves till I can get the buttons to matchthe two I've lost.... How people do _stare_ at one here. Look at thatold woman over there--And, oh, do look at the butcher standing on hisstep _glaring_ at us! He looks as if his eyes might go off 'pop' at anymoment, doesn't he?"
Although Isobel pretended to be annoyed, she really rather enjoyed theattention she and Pamela were attracting. Naturally the village wascurious about these strange young ladies who had come to stay at MissCrabingway's house. Thomas Bagg had given his version of the arrivalslast night as he chatted with the landlord of the 'Blue Boar,' and hadprofessed to know more about the matter than he actually did. In actingthus he was not alone, for most of the village pretended to knowsomething of the reason why Miss Emily Crabingway had suddenly goneaway, and why her house was occupied by four strange young ladies. Inreality nobody knew much about it at all. It speaks well for Martha andEllen that they were not persuaded to tell more than they did; maybethey didn't know more; maybe they _did_, but wouldn't say. The villagegossips shook their heads at the closeness of these two trusted servantsconcerning their mistress's affairs.... And so Pamela and Isobelattracted more than the usual attention bestowed on strangers inBarrowfield--the bolder folk (like the butcher) staring unabashed fromtheir front doors, while the more retiring peeped through theircurtains.
Barrowfield itself was certainly very picturesque; no wonder it appealedto Pamela's artistic eye. Surrounded by tree-clad hills, the village layjumbled about the wide green--in the centre of which was a pond withducks on it; white-washed cottages, old houses, quaint little shops, andinns with thatched roofs, stood side by side in an irregular circle.Seen from one of the neighbouring hills you might have fancied thatBarrowfield was having a game of Ring-o'-Roses around the green, whilethe little odd cottages dotted here and there on the hill-sides lookedlongingly on, like children who have not been invited to play but whomight at any moment run down the slopes and join in. The square-toweredchurch and the Manor House, both on a hill outside the magic ring, stoodwatching like dignified grown-up people.
Chequertrees was one of the biggest houses in the circle around thegreen, and a few dozen yards beyond its gate a steep tree-lined avenueled up to the big house of the neighbourhood--the Manor House, wherelived the owners of most of the land and property in Barrowfield. TheManor House was about a quarter of a mile beyond the village, and stoodhalf-way up the avenue, at the top of which was the square-toweredchurch. Close beside the church, but so hidden among trees as to beinvisible until you were near at hand, was the snug vicarage.
The railway station at which the girls had arrived on the previousevening was a mile and a half away on a road that led out from theopposite end of the green to where Chequertrees stood. Several lanesclimbed up from the green and wound over the hills to towns and villagesbeyond--the nearest market town being four miles distant if you went bythe lane, six miles if you followed the main road that ran past thestation.
Of course Pamela and Isobel would not have known all this on their firstshort walk round Barrowfield had they not fallen into conversation withthe girl who served in the newsagent's, and who was only too ready toimpart information to them when they went in to buy a local newspaper.She was a large-boned girl with a lot of big teeth, that showedconspicuously when she talked; she eyed curiously, and not without envy,the well-cut clothes and 'stylish' hats that the two girls were wearing.
Pamela noticed that the girl wore a brooch made of gold-wire twistedinto the name 'Millicent,' and as 'Jackson' was the name painted overthe shop outside, she tacked it on, in her own mind, as Millicent'ssurname.
It being still early in the day Millicent Jackson's toilet was notproperly finished--that is to say, she did not appear as she would lateron about tea-time, with her hair frizzed up and wearing her brown sergeskirt and afternoon blouse. Her morning attire was a veryunsatisfactory affair. Millicent wore all her half-soiled blouses inthe mornings, and her hair was straight and untidily pinned up; she hada black apron over her skirt, and her hands, which were not pretty atthe best of times, looked big and red, and they were streaked withblacking as if she had recently been cleaning a stove. Poor Millicent,she found it impossible to do the housework and appear trim and tidy inthe shop at the same time. She discovered herself suddenly wishing thatthe young ladies had postponed their visit till the afternoon, when shewould have been dressed. But there were compensations even for being'caught untidy'; for could she not see that young Agnes Jones across theway peering out of her shop door, overcome with curiosity, and would shenot dash across to Millicent as soon as the young ladies had departed,to know all about the interview! So it was with mixed feelings thatMillicent kept the young ladies talking as long as she could.
"Yes, it's a vurry ole church, and vurry interestin'," said Millicentfor the third time. "But uv course you ain't been in these parts longenough, miss, for you to 'ave seen everything yet, 'ave you, miss?"
"No, we only arrived last night," said Pamela in a friendly way.
"You don't say!" exclaimed Millicent in great astonishment; althoughThomas Bagg had been in the shop a few hours back and told her all abouttheir arrival. "Oh, well, uv course, miss--!" she broke off and waitedexpectantly.
But Pamela's next remark was disappointing.
"I think it's an awfully interesting-looking village altogether," shesaid. "Whereabouts is the ruined mill you mentioned just now? Very farfrom the village? I wonder if we have time to go and see it thismorning."
"It's a goodish way," said Millicent reluctantly. "Well, about two mileover that way," she pointed toward the back of the shop. "Along thelane that goes through the fields.... I expect you'd find it vurrymuddy in the lane after all the rain we've been 'aving."
"Oh, I don't mind that," said Pamela, but Isobel wrinkled up her noseand looked down at her dainty shoes. "But have we time beforelunch--um--no, it's half-past twelve now--what a shame! ... Never mind!I must go along to-morrow if I can. I feel I don't want to use up allthe country too quickly--it's so nice exploring." She smiled atMillicent, and gathered up the papers she had bought.
"Oh, by the way, who lives at the Manor House?" asked Isobel, addressingMillicent, directly, for the first time; her voice was slightlycondescending--it was the voice she always adopted unconsciously whenaddressing those she considered her 'inferiors'; she did not mean to beunkind--she had been taught, by those who should have known better, totalk like that to servants and tradespeople. But Pamela, whoseupbringing had been very different, frowned as she heard the tones; theyjarred on her.
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bsp; However, Millicent did not seem to notice anything amiss.
"Sir Henry and Lady Prior, miss," answered Millicent.
Isobel raised her eyebrows and gave a short laugh. "Prior! That'sstrange! I wonder if they're any relation to me," she said to Pamela."I must try to find out." She turned to Millicent again. "Sir _Henry_Prior, you said?"
"Yes, miss," said Millicent, looking at Isobel with fresh interest.(Here was a choice tit-bit to tell Aggie Jones.)
"H'm," said Isobel. "Yes--I know pater had a cousin Henry--I shouldn'tbe at _all_ surprised--Wouldn't it be delightful, Pamela, if it turnsout to be this cousin----"
She broke off, feeling that until she was sure it would be wiser not totalk too much before Millicent, who was listening, with wide eyes andopen mouth. To say just so much, and no more, was agreeably pleasant toIsobel, and made her feel as though, to the rest of the world, she wasnow enveloped in an air of romantic mystery. As far as Millicentrepresented the world, this was true. Millicent at once scented romanceand mystery--for surely to be related to a titled person, and not toknow it, is mysteriously romantic! She looked at Isobel with greaterrespect.... Pamela's voice brought her suddenly back to the everydayworld again--the shop, the papers, and the fact that she was untidy andnot dressed; she noticed with sudden distaste the blacking on her handsand hid them under her apron.
"Who lives in that pretty little white cottage opposite toChequertrees?" Pamela was asking. "I'm sure it must be some oneartistic--it's all so pleasing to the eye--it took my fancy this morningas I came out."
"The little white cottage--" began Millicent.
"With the brown shutters," finished Pamela.
"Oh, yes, I know the one you mean, miss," said Millicent. "Mrs Greshamlives there, miss. I don't know that she's an artist--she letsapartments in the summer--and has teas in the garden, miss. Does vurrynicely in the season with visitors, but she's terrible took up withrheumatics in the winter--has it something chronic, she does. But she'sa nice, respectable person--always has her daily paper reg'lar from us."
"Her garden must look lovely in the summer," remarked Pamela. "Thereare some fine old Scotch fir trees in it, I noticed." She had alreadytaken note of these particular trees by the cottage, for sketching lateron; they were the only Scotch firs that she had seen in Barrowfield sofar.
As she and Isobel walked across the green on their way back toChequertrees the picturesque blacksmith's forge claimed her attention,and she stopped to admire it. As she did so a woman came down the lanebeside the forge, and passing in front of the two girls walked quicklyover the green. Pamela's attention was immediately attracted to her,firstly because she was carrying an easel (also a basket, and a bag,evidently containing a flat box); secondly, because she was dressed veryquaintly in a grey cloak and a small grey hat of original design;thirdly, because she went into the garden gate of the little whitecottage opposite Chequertrees; and lastly, because, as the woman turnedto latch the gate after her, Pamela caught sight of her face.
"Who _does_ she remind me of?" said Pamela. "I'm sure I've seen some onelike her----"
But Isobel was not listening to Pamela.
"If Sir Henry Prior is related to us, mater will be frightfullyinterested to hear what----"
But Pamela was not listening to Isobel.
"Oh, p'r'aps she doesn't live there then--I wonder," said Pamela, as thewoman in grey, after handing the basket in at the front door of thecottage and speaking a few words to somebody inside, who was invisibleto Pamela, came quickly out of the gate again and hurried away down thevillage, the easel under one arm and the bag under the other.
"Who _does_ she remind me of?" puzzled Pamela, as she and Isobel turnedin at the gate of Chequertrees.
The Girls of Chequertrees Page 6