'But, Stella, you have not to be at your office till ten o'clock! What will you do with yourself for this half-hour?' asked Vava next morning as her sister left her at the gates of the City School for Girls five minutes before school opened, which was half-past nine.
The two sisters had walked together to the City along the Embankment. To girls used to tramping miles over the moors, the walk was nothing, though they found that the pavements tired their feet.
'I shall take a walk, or go into a shop and have a bun,' replied Stella, for on second thoughts she shunned a walk alone through these streets crowded with men, who looked curiously, though not disrespectfully, at the tall, slight, beautiful girl, who walked with a leisurely, unbusiness-like air through the City.
'Yes, go and have a bun, and I will come to the office at half-past three and wait for you in the sitting-room,' said Vava, who felt for her sister being stared at so.
'I don't think there will be much of a sitting-room to wait in, Vava; but when you come to fetch me, just take one of your lesson-books and read quietly until I come down; and, remember, don't talk to any one,' Stella admonished her sister.
Vava looked astonished and as if she were going to argue the question; but the school-bell rang at that moment, and she ran off, turning round to wave her hand to her sister, who stood watching her until she joined a group of girls, with whom she seemed to be conversing in a most friendly way, and not in the least as if it were the first time in her life that she had ever seen them.
With a sigh, Stella turned away; she could not be like that, she could not help being stiff and reserved. Vava was quite different, and her elder sister found herself hoping fearfully that she would not get too intimate with these 'City girls.' However, she consoled herself with the thought that it could only be in school-hours, and that even in the dinner interval she would be with the young teacher who was to take special care of her, and who, at all events, would be an educated woman.
And then, as she felt somehow that her sauntering walk attracted too much attention, she turned into a baker's shop, and, addressing the pleasant-faced woman behind the counter, said, 'May I have a bun, please, and rest here for half-an-hour until my office opens?'
'Indeed you may, miss, and if you like to step into my parlour you'll find a fire there; it's no weather to be walking about the streets, and none too pleasant for a young lady like you, not but what I say if you show respect to yourself others will show it to you; still, my parlour's the best place on a day like this,' said the baker's wife; for it was a cold, frosty January day.
Stella thanked her kindly Samaritan, who little knew how nervous and miserable her self-contained and dignified visitor felt as she sat there, nor how reluctantly she rose to go to Baines, Jones & Co.'s office.
The junior partner of the firm was not often so punctual at his office as he was on this morning, on which ten o'clock found him sitting in his private room, much to the perturbation of the clerks, who hurried in at or just after the hour of ten.
'There's a lady to see you, sir,' said a young clerk, handing him a card.
'Oh—er, yes; show her into this room,' said the junior partner, with an embarrassment which amazed the clerk, who forthwith went and informed his fellow-clerks that the young boss's best girl had called upon him, and 'he doesn't seem too pleased, though she's handsome enough in all conscience—a regular beauty, and no mistake, and a cut above him too; though what she means by running after him to the City goodness knows!'
'There's no knowing what girls will do nowadays,' said a wise youth of sixteen, who was promptly told to shut up.
But Stella, quite unconscious of these criticisms on her conduct, walked quietly into the junior partner's room, and, bowing gravely, said, 'I am Miss Wharton;' and waited for him to speak.
The junior partner rose from his seat and put a chair for her. 'I am very glad to see you, Miss Wharton. I hope you had a pleasant run—journey south?'
Stella might almost have been carved in stone as she answered, 'Yes, thank you. Will you kindly tell me my duties?'
If her employer felt snubbed he did not show it, but told her what he wanted her to do, and then showed her the room in which she was to work, which was through the clerks' room. Suddenly a thought seemed to strike him. 'There is another door to this room, and by it you could come along the corridor to me when necessary without coming through the clerks' office; and that is the housekeeper's room opposite. She will make you tea, and give you hot water or anything you want,' he said, opening a door on to the corridor.
Stella gravely bowed her thanks. She was grateful for the thought, and she found her new employer very quiet and civil. When the morning was over, and she took him his letters, which he was thankful to find correctly done, he showed his kindness further by saying, 'There is a ladies' club near here where lady-clerks can go and lunch very reasonably and comfortably; the housekeeper will show you the way, if you like. You will find it convenient to stay there till two o'clock; the City is a dull place for young ladies.'
Stella thanked him again, and took his advice; but when she had left the room the junior partner got up, stretched his long limbs, for he was a tall, athletic man, who looked more as if he should have been on a yacht than in a City office. 'Whew! what an iceberg! And to think that that imperial beauty is my clerk, and that I have to give her orders from ten to four, and be repressed and snubbed by her! As if I wanted to take a liberty! Why, I dare not even mention the weather! Well, so be it; she's a good typist, and has a good business head for all it's so pretty.—Well, Mrs. Ryan, what is it? Come in. Did you take Miss Wharton to the Enterprise Club—isn't that its name?'
'Yes, sir, I did, and right glad she was to be in such a place, so bright and comfortable, poor, sweet young lady. But I came to ask you, sir, couldn't she begin at half-past nine and stop at half-past three?' inquired the kind-hearted Irishwoman, explaining about Vava and her hours.
'H'm, it would suit her better, no doubt; but I don't know about me. Oh yes, I could leave her work to do. By all means. Thanks for telling me; I'll arrange it,' said the junior partner kindly, and added, 'And take the little sister into your room if we have not quite finished, Mrs. Ryan; the waiting-room is no place for her, if she is anything like her sister.'
'The City's no place for either of them, Mr. James; but they could not have found a better master than you, go where they might,' said the good woman.
Mr. James laughed; but he did not like to hear himself spoken of as Stella's master, and thought with a grim smile how angry she would have been if she had heard the expression.
The clerks meanwhile had a subject for conversation which kept their tongues wagging in an undertone, to the neglect of their work.
'The new lady-clerk! Who would have believed it? And she gave me her card for all the world like a duchess.' Here there was a snigger, and one of his fellow-clerks asked how duchesses gave their cards. And then the buzz went on, and all were on thequi vivefor the door to open; but, as is known, Stella did not pass through the room again, and the next time they met her she was with the housekeeper, to whom she was talking quite pleasantly. So that she could condescend when she liked, they discovered.
All the same, Stella might have been set down as proud and stuck-up, and been more unpopular than she was, though that probably would have troubled her little but for what occurred that afternoon, which, much as it annoyed her, was a very good thing.
The junior partner, it will be remembered, had had to wait for his typist while she packed up and took leave of her Highland home, and then motored leisurely to town, and certain foreign letters had got in arrears, and the junior partner was anxious to get through them.
Consequently, when Vava called for her sister the latter was very busy. The girl knew where the office was, but she did not know which door she ought to knock at; then she saw 'Baines, Jones & Co.—Clerks' Room.' One of the girls at school had called Stella a 'clerk,' when Vava had said 'secretary,' which sounded better. So at this door the girl knocked, and in answer to a loud 'Come in!' she entered.
Twenty heads were lifted and looked at her; but Vava was not self-conscious. She went forward, and with a friendly smile said, 'I have called for my sister. May I sit here till she is ready?'
'Certainly—that is, yes. Take a seat, miss, till I tell the boss,' said a youth, stammering rather, for it was awkward to refuse a young lady; but that was not the place for her to wait.
'No, don't tell any one. Stella said I was not to interrupt her, as she's only a paid servant like you; so just you go on with your work, and don't waste your time like the idle apprentice in the tale.'
Vava had not spoken loud, and did not know that her words were overheard by the whole room; still less was she aware that the young man of about thirty who had come in while she was speaking was the young boss and her sister's employer.
The boy to whom she had spoken had his back to him, and answered in rather an aggrieved tone, 'I'm not wasting my time; I had to answer you, and I must tell Mr. Jones, for I don't know that he'd like you to wait here; this isn't the lady's waiting-room, you know!'
'Mr. Jones won't mind,' said that gentleman, coming forward, and adding, 'So you are Miss Wharton's sister?'
'Yes, but I don't want to be in the way; you all seem very busy. Can I help you? I can write an awfully good hand, just like Stella's; she taught me, you know,' said Vava.
A smile went round the room; but Mr. Jones said quite gravely, 'That is very kind of you, and perhaps when we are hard pressed I shall take advantage of that offer; but your sister has done so much to-day that I think she will soon be ready for you.'
'Oh are you Mr. Jones?' said Vava, holding out her hand. 'I know some more Joneses, only they are'——
'Yes, it's a very common name, almost the commonest in England and Wales—rather a nuisance. But come along with me, and I will take you to your sister,' he said.
'Good-bye,' said Vava, nodding to the boy she had called the 'idle apprentice.'
'So the beauty's name is Stella!' observed one of the young men.
But he got no further. 'Shut up, Jim, and don't be such a cad as to take advantage of that youngster's friendly ways. If ever I hear any of you making free with Miss Wharton's name he'll regret it,' said the clerk in charge of the room, and his feelings on the subject were evidently shared by the rest of his fellow-clerks, for one or two of them said, by way of agreement, 'Yes, she's a nice little girl; evidently just up from the country, and not used to this kind of life, and in mourning too.'
So Stella was allowed to come and go, with no more attention or notice than the raising of their hats as they passed her, and it is to be doubted whether she could at the end of six months have recognised one of them if she had been required for any reason to do so.
Mr. Jones meanwhile took Vava into his own room, and sitting down began to talk to her of her new school and schoolfellows.
'They're all right, and the school is all right, and I like the mistresses, especially the one that takes my class—she looks so honest,' announced Vava.
'Don't the others look honest?' inquired Mr. Jones, looking amused. He had noticed that Vava spoke a little evasively of the school and its pupils as being 'all right,' which sounded qualified praise, and he was, or appeared to be, very much interested in her conversation.
'Oh I don't know; I didn't mean anything. I just liked Miss Courteney's face best, and I shall get to like the girls when I can understand them.' Here Vava laughed. 'They say some words so funnily;' and she tried to imitate them.
Mr. James Jones laughed heartily, and Vava, encouraged by him, was taking off some of her schoolfellows when Stella came to the door. Her face was a study, and both Mr. Jones and Vava jumped up with the air of culprits, as if they had been discovered doing wrong.
'I have brought the letters.—Vava, go into the housekeeper's room, please; you are interrupting Mr. Jones,' said the elder sister, holding open the door 'like an avenging angel,' as the junior partner afterwards said.
When the two girls stood outside the door they turned and looked at each other for a moment, and then without a word Stella led the way down the corridor to her own little room.
Nothing could have had a greater effect upon Vava, who would far rather have had a good scolding than this silent disapproval. 'Is this your sitting-room, Stella? What a nice one, and you have a fire; it has been rather cold at school,' said the girl in a repressed voice as she spread out her hands to the blaze.
Then Stella's heart melted. To be sure, Vava had been very disobedient; she had been told to speak to no one, but to learn her lessons quietly while she was waiting. Instead of which, Stella—remembering the voices she had heard in the next room—felt sure she had been talking in her free way with every one. Still, it was their first day alone in London, and Vava looked so unlike herself with the joy and brightness gone out of her face, so she said kindly, if gravely, 'Yes, this is my room, and another time, please, come straight here, unless I come and call for you, which would be better, I think, if you do not obey me. But let me hear about school. I hope they have fires there?'
'Oh yes, but I was sitting near a window, and my feet and hands got cold with having to sit still so long, I suppose; the girls say they get chilblains as soon as they come back to school,' replied Vava.
'You must wear mittens and warm house-shoes. But about the school, Vava—do you like it? Are you glad to go to school?'
'Not much; but, Stella, don't send me away from you. I will do what you tell me, really; I promise I will, unless I forget. I forgot to-day, or I would not have talked to any one. I know you're awfully angry with me; but I think I was a little flustered by all the crowds in the streets, and I just went into the first room where I saw Baines, Jones & Co. written!' cried Vava eagerly.
'I understand that you were bewildered; but you must try and remember that you are not at Lomore, and that you must not make friends without my leave, or else I shall feel that I cannot take care of you, and that it's not right to keep you with me,' said Stella.
'Then I shall die in this dreadful place without you,' declared Vava in tragic tones.
'Vava, something has happened. What is it? What has made you take such a dislike to London? You liked it well enough yesterday,' exclaimed Stella anxiously. She had been putting on her hat and coat as she spoke, and had just said this, when Mrs. Ryan, the housekeeper, came in with a tray, on which there were two cups of tea and delicious thin bread and butter and cakes.
'I have brought you a warm cup of tea to keep the cold out on your way home, and one for this young lady, who is your sister, as is plain to see. Dear, dear! and to think of you two poor lambs all alone! My dear, don't be offended with me; but if, as you say, you have no relations or friends in London, I hope you'll count me as one, and come to me if you are in any trouble, just as if I were'—a fine tact made the old Irishwoman say, 'your old housekeeper,' instead of 'your mother.'
Stella held out her hand and smiled. 'Thank you, Mrs. Ryan; indeed you are a friend, and I will come to you for advice,' she said.
'And, do you know, you remind me a little of nursie, our housekeeper at Lomore, only she is Scotch; but I can understand your way of speaking, and that's more than I can the people at school,' Vava remarked, with such a tone of disgust that the other two laughed.
But Stella looked relieved. 'So that's it, is it? I suppose they laughed at you for talking with a Scotch accent? I have often told you, Vava, that you should not copy old Duncan as you did,' protested Stella; for Vava talked much broader Scotch than Stella, and used words which are not in use or understood south of the Border.
'They're stupid things, and I don't want to talk like them. Anyway, they don't pronounce lots of their words right; they say "wat" and "ware" for "what" and "where;" so of course I got a lot of mistakes in my English dictation. But I beat them in my French,' she wound up triumphantly.
'You'll soon get used to that, miss, and there isn't a better school in London than the one you're at; there's no money spared on it, for it's a rich company that has it, though I don't know exactly why they have it,' said Mrs. Ryan.
'I do; a rich merchant's wife founded it!' cried Vava, and poured forth the history of the foundation of the school to her two listeners, till Stella stopped her.
'Now, Vava, we must not keep Mrs. Ryan.—My sister does not understand that the City is the place for business, not for paying visits or amusing one's self; and you might tell her that she must not make acquaintance with strangers,' said Stella, turning to Mrs. Ryan.
Mrs. Ryan raised her hands in amazement at such imprudence. 'Indeed no. There was a young girl I knew up from the country, and one day she was taking her ticket at one of the London stations, and there was rather a crowd, so, being timid, she stepped back and waited; then who should come up to her but a gentleman, as she called him, and, taking off his hat as polite as could be, says, "Can I take your ticket for you, miss? It's not fit for you to be pushing into a rough crowd like that;" and she, like the silly she was, thanks him and hands him her purse with all her week's money in it; and off he goes.' Here Mrs. Ryan ended, and nodded her head at Vava.
But Vava in her innocence did not understand the moral of the story, and said simply, 'That was very kind of him?'
'Yes, very kind! But he never got the ticket, and the poor girl never saw her purse nor the kind gentleman again,' explained Mrs. Ryan.
Vava's eyes were wide with horror. 'What a wicked, cruel man! But everybody can't be wicked like that!' she cried.
'No, indeed; thank God, there are many good people here; but there are rogues as well, and as you are too young to know the one from the other you must not talk to any of them,' Mrs. Ryan said.
The story made Vava very thoughtful. 'I wonder whether Mr. Jones is a rogue?' she said musingly.
But Mrs. Ryan was scandalised. 'Sakes alive, miss, don't say such a thing in his own office! He is one of the best and most respected gentlemen in the City of London, as I well know, having worked for him and his father this thirty years!' she exclaimed.
'Vava lets her tongue run away with her.—Come, Vava, we really must be going,' said Stella hastily, and she took her younger sister off with her.
It was dusk now, but the two enjoyed their walk back along the Embankment, for it did not occur to them to take a bus or train; three miles was nothing to them. Moreover, they had had tea, and were in no hurry to get back to their cramped lodgings. It was well that Vava could not see her sister's amused smile, which broke out several times on the way home at the remembrance of the younger girl's suggestion that the junior partner might be a rogue; and it is to be feared that Stella would not have been sorry if her employer—whom she suspected unjustly of thinking a good deal of himself and of wishing to patronise her and pity her for having 'come down in the world'—had heard Vava's remark.
It might have gratified her if she had known that Mrs. Ryan went straight to her master and told him the whole story.
Mr. James, as she called him, laughed heartily. 'I'm sure that's what her elder sister thinks me. Well, it does not much matter, as long as she does her work as well as she did to-day, so business-like and correctly—first accurate young woman I have ever met with; and the poor thing will have a better time here than she would with many firms. You will be sure to look after her well, Mrs. Ryan? My father is most particular that she should be comfortable—as comfortable as possible, that is to say; so be sure and give her tea before she goes, or anything she wants.'
From which conversation it will be seen that Mr. Stacey had found a good berth for his young client, and had evidently given her a high testimonial.
It was six o'clock by the time the girls reached Vincent Street, and they seated themselves on uncomfortable arm-chairs in front of the smoky fire, which they lit as soon as they got in. Vava had her lessons to do; but after their tea-supper, for which the landlady declined to cook anything but eggs—'London eggs,' as Vava said—Stella looked round for something to do. There was no piano, she had no books, nor was she fond of fancy-work, and of useful work she had none, for 'nursie' had always done most of the mending for her young ladies, though she had taught them both to work. Before they left home she had set their wardrobes in thorough order. 'So that you'll not have to trouble about them for a long while yet; and perhaps, who knows, the Lord may have made a way for me to come to you before they need looking to again,' the old woman had said, with some kind of idea that her beautiful young mistress would not somehow be left by Providence in a position for which she was so unfitted, in the old housekeeper's opinion.
So now Stella looked round for something to do, and finding nothing, passed a dreary evening, till Vava had finished preparing her lessons, and said with a yawn, 'Let's go to bed, Stella. What's the good of sitting up, staring at this horrid wall-paper with those hideous flowers that aren't like any flowers that ever grew in a garden?'
Stella gave a sigh, which, in spite of all her resolutions to be brave, she could not suppress. 'It is not very comfortable here, to be sure; but I don't know where else to go. There is a large kind of ladies' residential club near here, but I do not know if we should like it, and we should have no private sitting-room; so you would have to prepare your lessons in your bedroom, which I dislike,' she replied.
'Oh that would be horrid; the room would get so hot and stuffy, and we should not sleep. I wish we could have a little house of our own. I am sure there must be little houses to let that we could afford, like the one Dr M'Farlane's sisters lived in at Lomore.'
'We will go and have a look to-morrow on our way home,' said Stella, smiling. She was glad of something to look forward to besides going to the City. She had only had one day of it; but she disliked it intensely, and asked herself how she was to bear her life with nothing but this to look forward to through the long years. Yet, if she had but known it, she was extremely fortunate, and her lot was a far better one than it might have been but for the influence of kind friends.
And so the two tired heads were laid down to rest, intending, in their ignorance, to look for a small house which they could rent, and which would be more comfortable and no more expensive than their present abode. Next day, however, was wet, and they had quite enough walking to the City and back, and came in at five o'clock, with another long evening before them, lightened in Stella's case by a book from the library of her City Club for Lady-Clerks; so that it was not until Friday that the two girls looked about on their way home for a small house to let.
Vava, who seemed singularly uncommunicative about her life at school, was quite eager in the search for this ideal small house, and looked up each street they passed by to see if there were any prospect of its being found there.
'I think, Vava, it will be no use looking so near the City. Mrs. Ryan tells me that rents are very high here; Westminster is a cheaper part,' said Stella.
'Still, there's no harm in looking, I'm sure. I have seen quite small houses that can't cost much,' said Vava; and at last she cried out with delight at sight of quite a small-looking house, jammed between two large buildings, which bore the words, 'To Let.' It was situated in one of the narrow streets leading from the Strand to the river.
Stella looked doubtfully at it. 'I think it is larger than it looks, Vava, and we really only need five or six rooms; and you know we must not give too much rent, for I do not want to spend all our income,' she said gravely.
'I'm sure this will be quite cheap. Do let's ask,' said Vava impatiently.
So urged, Stella rang the bell marked 'Caretaker;' and after a long wait, a grim and unfriendly-looking man appeared.
'Would you please tell me the rent of this house?' inquired Stella.
'Do you want an office in it?' inquired the caretaker.
'No-o. I wanted to know the rent of the whole house,' said the girl.
The man looked at her curiously; but she looked so grave and dignified that he concluded that she was sent by some one else. 'Well, the rent's three hundred pounds on a long lease, you may tell them,' he informed her.
'Thank you,' said Stella quietly, and turned away.
'Three hundred pounds for that dirty little house! Oh London is a horrid place, Stella! Let's go back to Lomore!' cried Vava.
Stella wished they could; but her sense of duty came to her aid, and she said, 'That is quite impossible, Vava; we must stay in London. So the best thing we can do is to try and be as happy as we can here, and do our duty. We will live upon as little as we can, and save money, so that we can go away for our holidays.'
These same holidays, if she had but known it, were a most unusual thing; for Stella was to have a month in the summer, and ten days at Easter. And the two began to plan a delightful Easter at the seaside somewhere, and by the time they got home to their lodgings Vava was quite cheerful again.
'Oh Stella, it's a mist, a blacky-yellow mist—I mean a fog! How horrid! What shall I do here all by myself while you are in the City? And how will you get there? I shall be so frightened all the morning, thinking you are lost. Can't I come with you? I will sit quite quietly in your room while you are writing, and perhaps I could help you!' cried Vava on the second Saturday morning, when she woke up to find London quite dark and enveloped in a yellow fog.
'I can't take you with me, Vava; it would never do. That is not my room; it is Messrs Baines & Jones's room. If I brought you there to help me it would look as if I had too much to do, which is not true,' replied Stella.
'Then let me stop with Mrs. Ryan. I will do my lessons, and sew that horrid piece of needlework I have to get done by next sewing-lesson. Don't leave me in this poky little place by myself,' pleaded Vava.
As a matter of fact, Stella hated these Saturdays, when she had to go to the City alone, because Vava had no school that day, and to-day she was really nervous of the fog. So she said doubtfully, 'If you promise to stop quietly in Mrs. Ryan's room, and not go out of it on any excuse until I come to fetch you, I will take you, though it is rather extravagant, for we shall have to go by omnibus.'
'Never mind, it will be my Saturday's treat,' said Vava; and the two set out for the City.
Mrs. Ryan held up her hands at sight of them. 'There's brave young ladies! Not one of the young ladies of Philips's downstairs have come yet, and three of them that live some way off have sent telephone messages to say it's too thick their way, and they want to be excused.'
'I want to be excused for bringing Vava. She would not be left alone, and was sure you would not mind her sitting quietly in your room doing her lessons. I hope you will not mind?' said Stella.
'Mind! Why, I'm only too glad of a bit of company, and Miss Vava's as welcome as the sunshine would be, for it's what she reminds me of!' cried Mrs. Ryan heartily.
Mr. James looked up in surprise at sight of Stella. 'Miss Wharton! I did not expect you to-day; it is one of the worst fogs we have had for years. I wonder you found your way, as you are not used to London!' he exclaimed.
'The omnibus took me all the way,' said Stella gravely, and opened her note-book to take down her instructions; and Mr. James, who very seldom ventured to make even a remark like that, turned to business; but when his secretary had gone, and the darkness became thicker still, he looked uneasily out of the window, and then rang for the housekeeper.
'Mrs. Ryan, the fog is getting worse; I don't think that Miss Wharton ought to go home alone,' he began, looking disturbed.
'She's not alone, sir, begging your pardon; her little sister is here in my room,' observed the housekeeper.
The young man looked relieved. 'That's a good thing; she has really got more sense than the elder one in some ways. But how on earth are they to get back? I'd offer to take them in my car, only she'd fly down my throat,' he said with an aggrieved air.
'And begging your pardon again, sir, I think the more of Miss Wharton for her proper pride; but if I might make so bold as to suggest it, you might send the motor back for them,' suggested Mrs. Ryan.
'By all means; they're welcome to it as much as they like. I'll tell you what, Mrs. Ryan, they'll have to stop till it comes back. Suppose you give them lunch? I'll have it sent in, and you will tell them it's the custom of the firm. I'd like to give that little girl some pleasure; I'm sure her life's dull enough. I hear her sister won't let her make friends with the girls at school, and they don't know a soul else in London, for she told Miss Upjohn so,' said Mr. James, who talked to Mrs. Ryan very freely, as she was an old servant of the family.
Mrs. Ryan was only too pleased to do anything for the Misses Wharton, to whom she had taken a great fancy, and promised to see to the lunch.
Vava sat and learnt her lessons very conscientiously while Mrs. Ryan went about her duties. After a while Mr. James, who had a message to give the housekeeper, and probably found time hang heavy on his hands this morning—for it was not a day for callers—came to the housekeeper's room.
'Well, and what have you got to say about our English climate?' was his greeting.
Vava put down her English grammar with relief. 'Nothing good,' she said, laughing and shaking her head.
'It's like swallowing nasty-tasting flannel, isn't it?' he agreed.
'Yes, and it's getting worse; it was bad enough getting here, and how on earth we are going to get back nobody knows,' said Vava, as she looked out of the window at the fog, which got thicker and thicker, and was enough to frighten any country-bred girl, though Vava would not own it.
'Then I must be "nobody," because I know,' he said.
Vava looked up in surprise, and then guessing that he meant to take them home, a kindness she knew Stella would not accept, she said, 'We shall go in a bus, thank you, and I'm not as afraid as you think, for I've often been out in a mist at home, and they are more dangerous than this, for they come on suddenly, and you can't see a thing.'
'Mrs. Ryan does not approve of the bus; besides, they do not seem to be running. So she suggests your going in my car, which will come back for you after it has taken me home. Will you tell your sister it's the only thing to do?' asked Mr. James.
It did not strike Vava that the junior partner might have given his own message to his secretary, and agreed to deliver it; and, as Mrs. Ryan backed her up, Stella gave way.
'Baines & Jones are a very good firm to work for, and they look after their people well. After all, why shouldn't they? They're rich enough, and it's good policy, for they get well served; so you may eat this lunch quite comfortably, for they say you are the best lady they've had for a long time; you know French so well, and you write first-rate business letters. So you've earned your lunch for that, if you hadn't earned it by coming through such an awful fog to-day,' explained Mrs. Ryan, as she served lunch for the two sisters.
Mrs. Ryan would not exactly say, as her master told her, that it was the custom to give lunch; in fact, at sight of the menu she was told to get she was half-afraid Miss Wharton would refuse it, for chicken and cherry-tart with cream, followed by coffee and dessert, was rather a grand lunch to send in for a City clerk.
But Stella in her ignorance supposed it was usual; City dinners always were rich, like the givers, she knew.
'Isn't this lovely? I wish it would often be a fog; this is better than going to a stuffy restaurant,' announced Vava; and Mrs. Ryan determined to tell the kind-hearted giver of the pleasure his lunch had given.
But there was more pleasure to come. In about an hour the motor came back for them, and they started off very slowly. After a quarter of an hour they came to a stop, owing to a block at one of the bridges over the Thames.
'It's funny it should be so thick here; it's lovely a few miles out,' said the chauffeur, turning to address his passengers.
'How I wish we were a few miles out too, then!' cried Vava impulsively.
The two girls did not see a half-amused look that came into the staid and respectable man's eyes as he replied, 'Well, miss, I have to take a run down to Brighton, and if you would let me turn off south over this bridge I could take you there almost as soon as I could take you home at the rate we're going, and perhaps by the time we got back it would be fine again?'
Put like this, it sounded almost a favour to the chauffeur to let him get his business over first; though, perhaps, if they had had time to think, Stella at least would have bethought her that Brighton was slightly out of the way from the City to Westminster!
But Vava's cry of 'Oh do, Stella, do! I should so like to see the sea again,' settled it.
'There's plenty of rugs there, miss,' said the man, as he turned over the bridge with the same amused smile, and, as he had said, soon brought them into a better atmosphere, and finally to Brighton, where the sun was shining.
'If you'll let me know what time you wish to go back, miss, I'll meet you wherever you like,' said the chauffeur, touching his hat.
'As soon as your business is done, of course,' said Stella.
'Oh well'—here the man coughed—'yes, of course. Well, my business won't take long; but I haven't to get back for anything to-day, and my master said I could stop a bit. But, of course, if you are in a hurry'——he replied.
Stella looked doubtful, and consulted her watch. It was half-past three; they had another hour and a half of daylight, and it was very nice by the sea.
'There's no hurry at all, Stella; there's lots to see and do here.—You'll want to have some dinner, won't you?' Vava added, turning to the man.
'I'd be glad to see some friends I've got down here, and they'll look after me. Would seven o'clock suit you, young ladies?'
Again Stella agreed; but a feeling, which she could not define, that she was being managed somehow came over her. But she forgot it in the pleasure of the brisk walk by the sea, the visit to the aquarium, and, finally, listening to the band on the pier.
'Stella, I've come to the conclusion that we are wrong about London people,' announced Vava, as they sat in a sheltered corner listening to the music.
'How, Vava?' asked her sister.
'Nursie always used to say they were hard and selfish and suspicious, and I find that they are very kind. First there were the Montague Joneses, and now there's Mrs. Ryan and your Mr. Jones and this chauffeur, all being as kind as can be,' explained Vava.
'He's not my Mr. Jones,' said Stella sharply, taking up the offensive words. Then she continued, 'Yes, they are kind; but I do not much like accepting kindnesses we cannot return.'
'But we do return it by enjoying ourselves and thanking them, and you heard Mrs. Ryan say that the firm wanted to reward your good work, or, at least, that was what she meant, and you do work hard, and do overtime too sometimes; and I am going to knit a Shetland shawl for Mrs. Ryan, so that will be doing her a kindness in return,' declared Vava.
Stella sighed. 'I wish I were like you, able to enjoy everything, Vava,' she said half-sadly. To the proud, reserved girl, her present life was intolerable.
'Oh don't, Stella! Fancy, if you were like me, really! We should get into all sorts of muddles; besides, people would not be so kind to us!' she added shrewdly.
Stella refrained from asking her what she meant; for she knew too, and, funnily enough, resented the attention which her beauty brought her. However, Vava's words did good; and Stella, whatever she might say, did enjoy the trip. And she thanked the chauffeur so prettily that the man was quite captivated.
'I am sure, miss, it's been a pleasure, and I only hope I shall have the same pleasure again;' and he would have said more, but on the whole he thought it wiser not to do so.
'This has been the nicest day we have spent since we came to London,' Vava assured the man, smiling and nodding at him as he respectfully took his leave.
Stella looked very grave as she put her latch-key into the front-door of their lodgings. 'I am not sure that it is a wise thing to take these treats; it only seems to make you dissatisfied with the outings that I can afford.'
'Indeed it does not, only I liked seeing the sea, and I do love rushing through the country in a motor; but I enjoyed the Tower very much, and I shall enjoy the Houses of Parliament next Saturday all the more for having had a change in between. Besides, it was delightful to get out of that awful fog; we could not have done anything to-day if we had stayed in London except sit in this little room with the gas lit. It was kind of Mr. James.'
'Yes,' agreed Stella; but she did not think it necessary to tell Vava that she was not going to accept such kindnesses in future, however much Mrs. Ryan might say it was 'the custom of the firm.'
'Do you think you can walk to school by yourself this morning, Vava?' inquired Stella a little doubtfully as they stood at the parting of their ways one week-day morning in the City. Stella had always walked to the school-gates with her younger sister; but to-day she had work waiting her at the office, and she was anxious to get there early.
'Of course I can; I'm the only girl in the whole school who is taken to school like a kindergarten child, and some of them even come quite alone without their nurses or any grown-up person!' cried Vava, airing what was rather a grievance with her.
Stella put on her most dignified air. 'Very possibly; but I do not wish to be taught manners by your schoolfellows or their parents. That class of person does not go in for chaperons,' she said in her clear voice.
'Oh Stella!' cried Vava, flushing crimson and looking very vexed.
'What is the matter, Vava?' exclaimed Stella in astonishment.
'That was one of the girls in my form, and she heard you!' protested Vava.
Stella looked as vexed as Vava; she would not for worlds hurt any one's feelings willingly, and she knew too that she ought not to have said what she did; but pride was Stella's besetting sin, and she hated having to mix with people whom she considered her inferiors, and her present life and surroundings only made her prouder.
'I am sorry; I forgot we were so near the school. Perhaps she did not understand me. You say the girls find your Scotch accent difficult to follow?' suggested the girl.
'Well, good-bye,' said Vava; and went off one way, while Stella turned down the street leading to her office without further comment.
When she had left her sister, Stella thought no more of her unfortunate speech. It had been unwise; but, after all, it was quite true. And if the girl had overheard it all, the worst she could think was that Vava's sister was proud, and that she thought herself superior to the pupils of the City School for Girls, which last, Stella privately thought, they could see for themselves.
But Vava did not forget it, and looked very gloomy as she walked along, her eyes looking straight in front of her, not seeing any one.
'Hallo, Vava Wharton! Where are you—in the moon, wool-gathering?' inquired a hearty voice beside her, and a rather stout, common-looking girl, who, however, was nicely dressed and had a pleasant face, patted her on the back.
'Oh Doreen! you startled me. I was thinking!' ejaculated Vava.
'Not very pleasant thoughts, by the look of you,' said Doreen, with a sharp look at Vava's grave face.
'No, they were not,' admitted Vava.
'What's the row? Not any trouble at home, I hope?' asked the girl kindly, and her rough, boisterous voice grew quite gentle.
'I have no home,' said Vava.
'I'm sorry; but you have a sister, and, I say, isn't she a beauty? You're lucky to have her; I have no sister. If it's anything I can help about you may as well tell me; come, out with it. You'll be in the dumps all day if you've got it on your mind. Is it the lessons?'
'No, it's nothing to do with school; at least—well, it's something my sister said about school just now that is bothering me.'
'Doesn't she think you are getting on well, or working hard enough? Because, if that is all, you just introduce me to her to-morrow morning, and let me talk to her, and I'll soon teach her different,' said the girl cheerfully.
Vava thought to herself that Doreen would not have made this suggestion if she had overheard Stella's opinion of her schoolfellows, and she felt that, kind though she was, Doreen was the last girl she would like to introduce to her sister. 'It was just a stupid remark my sister made about the manners at school,' explained Vava.
'The manners at school? Why, we're supposed to have very good manners! I'm sure we're always being drilled in good manners by Miss Upjohn, and the inspectors and visitors always say there's such a good tone among the girls!' exclaimed Doreen, and she looked at Vava as if she suspected her of having taken some tales to her sister, or made some complaint about them. Then as Vava did not answer, for she could not very well explain the true facts of the case, Doreen went on, 'I suppose you think we are not too civil to you about your Scotch accent; but, if we laughed, we didn't mean it unkindly. It's no use being too thin-skinned in this world. I should think your sister was rather too delicate for roughing it in London; she looks as if she ought to be a duchess, not a City clerk.'
'That's just it!' burst forth Vava impulsively.
'Is that what's bothering you? Well, I shouldn't worry about that. Some rich man will come along and marry her before long, you'll see; she's far too pretty to remain single. But,' she added, as a thought struck her, 'why did you first say it was our bad manners that upset you, and then that it was your sister being a clerk?'
Then Vava told the whole story, adding, 'I hope you are not offended? Stella only meant'——
'She only meant that you are a cut above the rest of us, and it's quite true, and of course we know that. Why, the first day you came in with her we thought it was some grand visitor coming. I'm sorry Rosie Brown overheard it; she can be nasty when she likes, and she considers herself some one too, for her father is an alderman. Anyway, I'm glad you've told me, and I'll tackle her if she says anything,' declared Doreen, not letting Vava finish her apology.
'Oh I hope she won't; the girls will be so annoyed!' cried Vava in a fright.
'It's not your fault; they won't blame you; I'm sure you're pleasant and friendly enough with them all. Anyhow, as I said before, I'll give them a piece of my mind if they say anything, and I'll be your friend if you'll let me. Of course, I know you are a lady and I'm not, and I don't talk good grammar and you do, though you roll your "r's" and say "what" in a funny way; but I'd like to talk better if you'll learn me. You see, I am to be a teacher one day, and it'll stand in my way, and father says a good education is a fortune,' answered Doreen.
'I'll teach you, not "learn" you, if I can; for our governess did teach us grammar, and our father was very particular how we spoke, so I suppose we do speak better than a great many girls,' said Vava, laughing and looking quite bright again.
'And we'll be chums?' demanded the girl.
'Yes, if you like,' agreed Vava, not seeing very well how she was to get out of it, but wondering what Stella would say to her choice of a friend. As they entered the playground she saw Rosie Brown the centre of a little group of girls, who looked up as she came in, and then looked away again, without nodding good-morning as usual.
Vava's heart sank; but Doreen said in her loud cheery voice, 'Hallo, you there! What are you all confabbing about so mysteriously? Nice manners that!' she wound up purposely.
'Oh we can't all have the manners of your friend Lady Clara Vere de Vere! I wonder she condescends to talk to you or come to our school at all with the people of our class,' said one of the girls.
Vava's colour rose, but she walked on without taking the least notice of what was said.
Not so, Doreen. She stopped in front of them, and demanded loudly, 'What do you mean by that? I have no titled friend, because I'm only a tradesman's daughter, and very proud of the fact, for he earned every penny he's got honestly, which is more than you can say of some grand people.'
'We don't mean anything to do with you, Doreen; you don't give yourself airs or despise us; but if you knew what Vava Wharton thinks of you, you wouldn't walk with her!' said Rosie Brown.
'Wouldn't I? Well, I just should, then, for she's my chum, and any one who speaks against her speaks against me. And, pray, how do you know what she thinks of me? Has she been telling you?' inquired Doreen, standing square and uncompromising before the angry group.
'She thinks you're no class, as she does the rest of us,' said Rosie Brown.
Doreen turned on her. 'Does she? She's never shown any signs of it. No one could be nicer and more friendly than Vava Wharton has been ever since she has been here, and I shouldn't have thought she was one to go behind my back and say I was no class, especially to you, Rosie. Anyway, I've a right to know what she said about me,' demanded Doreen, who knew very well what Rosie meant, and that she was putting her in an awkward position.
'If she didn't, that stuck-up sister of hers did,' said Rosie sulkily.
'Well, I shouldn't call her stuck-up after she has been talking to you,' observed Doreen sarcastically.
'Shetalk to me! She wouldn't demean herself by addressing a word to any one under a duke. I happened to overhear a remark she made,' said Rosie, falling into the trap.
'And you repeated a private remark that you listened to? That's nice and honourable, anyway. I wonder what Miss Upjohn would say if she heard of it? But you mind one thing, all of you—if you choose to take any notice of anything heard by eavesdropping, you can. I call it playing it low down; but you're not going to annoy Vava Wharton, who is not to blame one bit, and if you do I'll just go straight to the head-mistress and tell her, and we'll see what she says about honour,' announced Doreen. Having said so, she turned on her heel and followed Vava into the cloak-room, leaving the little group of girls—to whom she had given 'a piece of her mind,' as she called it—looking rather crestfallen.
'All the same, she does consider herself better than us, or why does she say good-bye so quickly if she sees her sister, and sit next a mistress at lunch?' inquired Rosie.
'It's a free country, I suppose she can do as she likes. I believe she told me she had come from a lonely part of Scotland, and wasn't used to living in a great city, and that crowds rather frightened her,' observed a girl who looked rather ashamed of having listened to this tittle-tattle.
'It's all right. I've shut her up, mean eavesdropper, and made them all feel ashamed of themselves; so don't you worry about it any more,' Doreen whispered to Vava, as she took off her boots and put on school-shoes.
'Oh thank you,' was all Vava said, and she felt very grateful and friendly toward Doreen; but during the day she found herself wondering what Stella would say to this new friend, for she was sure Doreen would expect to be introduced to Stella if they met on the way to school, which they were pretty sure to do. And, grateful as she was to Doreen for her championship, she found herself wishing that the girl was a little more refined. However, Vava was no snob, and she determined to face facts and tell Stella she must be friends with Doreen, and so she did.
Stella heard her without making any remark, until Vava said, 'And, of course, you need not speak to her if she comes up to us in the street; she's sure to do that, because she has not very good manners.'
'She has very good principles and a good heart, which are more important, and I shall certainly stop and thank her for being so kind to you this morning,' remarked Stella.
Vava was so surprised that she stared at Stella. 'But—but she's not a lady, Stella, and she talks dreadful grammar sometimes; but she asked me to correct her, so she is trying to improve,' Vava observed.
'I don't suppose you will learn bad grammar from her, and as you only see her in school you will not be too much in her company.'
All the same, Vava was glad the next morning that they did not meet Doreen, and sorry the morning after when they did. To her surprise, Doreen only nodded when she caught sight of them, and walked on the other side of the street.
'Who is that, Vava?' inquired Stella, seeing her nod to some one.
'That is Doreen,' replied Vava.
'Tell her to come and speak to me; I should like to know her,' announced Stella.
Vava ran across to Doreen, and gave Stella's message.
'Does she really? May I really?' stammered Doreen, quite flustered.
'Yes, of course; she's not a bit stiff when you know her,' Vava assured her, for she guessed that Doreen was a little afraid of the stately lady in black.
But Stella gave her lovely smile, and Doreen forgot her fears as she gazed in frank admiration at Miss Wharton, who said, 'Thank you for being so nice to Vava yesterday. I ought not to have said what I did, for, after all, you showed better manners than I.'
'Oh but I didn't. I'd love to have manners like you; and father said, when I told him last night, that it was only a natural remark, and that people would always be divided into classes as long as the world lasted, and that it was very hard on you having to come down from your class and mix with us; but that you'd find we'd a lot of good in us, though we had no manners,' cried Doreen eagerly.
'I am sure of it,' said Stella, who did not seem to mind the girl's plain speaking.
Doreen looked at Stella suddenly, and gave a great sigh. She was quite at ease with her, Vava noticed with surprise, and with still greater surprise that Stella seemed to like her and not to notice her rough speech. 'Well, what was that sigh for?' Stella asked, smiling.
'You are so beautiful,' said Doreen bluntly.
Stella coloured a little, and laughed as she said, 'I am glad you think so; I don't think I am very different from other girls.' And then they said good-bye to each other.
'She is as different as chalk from cheese!' cried Doreen enthusiastically to Vava.
'I don't think she's proud of being pretty; she never seems to notice that,' said Vava; and she went into school much happier than she had felt the day before, and relieved to think that she might make friends with Doreen, whose fine character made her rather popular at school.
In one of the City of London's busiest thoroughfares, among the numerous plates bearing the names and callings of the occupants of the different chambers or offices in a certain big building, is a small plate with the words 'Enterprise Club.' That is all the outward sign of the fact that the only ladies' club in the City, a veritable haven of refuge for lady-clerks and secretaries, has its quarters here.
It was here that Stella sat one lunch-time, looking so worried that a ladylike-looking girl, to whom she had spoken once or twice, asked her if she had a headache.
'No, no, thank you; I am quite well,' replied Stella, her brows still knitted.
The girls at the Enterprise contented themselves with a nod of the head, or a 'Good-morning,' to Stella, whom they put down as proud and stuck-up. But this girl had gone a little farther, and had even elicited the fact that she had a younger sister; and to-day, seeing Miss Wharton look so grave, it occurred to her that it might be something connected with this younger sister that was troubling her, and she asked, 'Is your sister quite well? I have never seen her here. Doesn't she ever come?'
'My sister? No, she is not a member; she is only a schoolgirl. I did not think it would be allowed,' said Stella.
'She could come as a visitor, and I am sure if you asked the secretary she would make an exception and allow her to join. It would be so nice if she could stay and play cards or dominoes after office hours on these cold winter afternoons,' suggested the girl.
Stella's face brightened up so wonderfully that her companion guessed that this was the difficulty. 'If she could, I should be so glad; she is very good, but she feels the dullness of life in lodgings, and I am beginning to be quite anxious about her. She would like to come here sometimes, I am sure.'
'Then let us ask the secretary at once, and she can come this evening,' suggested the good-natured girl.
The secretary gave a ready consent, and that afternoon, instead of going straight home, Vava was brought into the Enterprise Club, and sank with a little exclamation of pleasure into one of the comfortable easy-chairs, and looked round the tastefully furnished room. She was soon invited to play a game of draughts by one of the younger girls, for Vava did not inspire awe as Stella did.
'If next Saturday is wet or horrid like last Saturday, I shall ask Stella to bring me here,' Vava announced, as she moved one of her 'men.'
'On Saturday! I should have thought you would want to get away from the City as soon as possible! I should, I know,' said the other.
'But you are staying this evening,' Vava pointed out.
'That is because my chum Amy is working late; I always wait for her rather than go home alone; but on Saturdays we generally go for a long bicycle ride or something, to get some fresh air and fresh ideas,' announced the girl, hopping over two of Vava's 'men.'
'I wish I rode a bicycle; but we always rode horses in Scotland—at least Stella did; I had a pony,' explained Vava.
'This must be a change for you!' cried the other; but said no more, for the game absorbed her attention.
But the result of this conversation was that, the next Saturday being wet, Vava's opponent suddenly said to her chum, 'Amy, we can't cycle to-day; suppose we lunch at the Enterprise, and have some games with those two new girls in mourning?'
'Oh the Misses Wharton? Have you fallen in love with the beautiful Miss Wharton too?' replied the girl called Amy.
'Is that their name? But it isn't Miss Wharton I am thinking of; it's her younger sister. Fancy, they have been used to riding their own horses, and now they walk to the City and back! She wants to stay at the Enterprise on Saturday, so they can't have very nice "diggings,"' replied her companion.
'It's not a bad place to spend a wet afternoon in; so, if you like, we will lunch there; it's just as comfortable as Bleak House,' replied Amy.
'Yes, but one gets tired of living in a crowd. Oh how I wish we could afford a cottage in the country!' said the younger girl.
'But we cannot, Eva; so let us try to be contented with our lot,' replied Amy.
By way of showing her content, Eva grumbled loudly at it to Vava. The four were sitting at the same table, having lunch, and she found only too willing a listener in Vava Wharton to sympathise with her.
'Cheer up, Eva; things might be worse. Here we are sitting on a wet and bitterly cold afternoon in a pleasant, warm room, in comfortable chairs, surrounded by newspapers, magazines, and fashion papers! What more could you have if you were a fashionable young lady?' inquired her chum Amy.
'I could have this room as my own, and money to spend on the fashions I look at, and somewhere to show them off better than a stuffy office or Bleak House,' retorted Eva.
'Bleak House! That is the name of one of Dickens's books!' exclaimed Vava.
'It is the name of a large hostel or boarding-house for ladies who earn their own living, where Eva and I live, and it is really quite comfortable, only that it is not home,' said Amy, and she looked sympathetically at Eva, who was only sixteen, and had begun early to work for her daily bread.
There was silence for a moment, and the four young faces looked as grave as if they had the cares of the world upon their shoulders.
Suddenly Eva broke out, 'I wouldn't mind if I had something different to look forward to; but to think of going on for years the same dull grind and back to the same crowd of girls, who can talk of nothing but their office or else roller-skating; and Amy does not approve of going out to amusements every evening.'
'We wanted to take a house, but it is too expensive, and the one we looked at was dreadfully dear, although it had no garden. Oh how I would love a house with a garden! Some of the girls at school have gardens, and even greenhouses, for they bring leaves and flowers to school for our painting and botany lessons, and yet they are not rich,' observed Vava.
'All houses are not dear. Girls! I have an idea; let's take a house between us—the four of us!' cried Eva suddenly.
Stella looked up, startled at this abrupt suggestion; but Eva's chum Amy, who was used to her ways, only smiled, and said jestingly, 'Where do you mean to take a house, and how would you furnish it?'
'In the suburbs; and as for furnishing, we could do that on the hire-system. It shall have a garden and a lawn and a tree—I must have a tree; it's so ideal to sit and have tea in the garden under a tree, or read a book in a canvas-chair on a summer's day,' replied Eva.
'I don't care for the hire-system, and houses with gardens and lawns and trees are not to be found in London. I am afraid we must wait until we are old ladies, and can retire on our savings and live in some little country village,' said Amy, laying her hand upon Eva's and smiling at her.
Possibly the conversation would have ended here but for Vava, and something that she said. 'But couldn't we have a little house in an unfashionable part? All the girls at school have houses or flats of their own; it would be so nice to have a home.'
'So we will have a home. Why shouldn't we? Lots of families live on two hundred pounds a year, and that would be a pound a week each. Why, the Smiths are a family of five, and they have only about two hundred, and they have a garden and an arbour covered with ivy and creepers and things!' cried Eva.
'Oh where is that?' asked Vava eagerly, her eyes shining.
'My dear Eva!' protested Amy, looking apologetically at Stella, who was very grave and silent.
'Well, what is the matter?' demanded Eva.
'You do talk such nonsense. How can four people, who are strangers to each other, suddenly take a house and live together? Why, we do not even know each other's names!' said Amy, laughing.
'My name is Eva Barnes, and this is my greatest and best friend, Amy Overall,' said Eva promptly; and then, turning to Vava, she added, 'Let's talk it over by ourselves; old people are always cautious,' and she and Vava began to talk in low tones. Presently Eva took out a pencil and note-book, and began making elaborate calculations.
The two 'elders' smiled at them. They were not more than twenty-one and twenty-four respectively; but they let the younger ones whisper nonsense together, while they talked of books; and Stella found that Amy Overall had read the same sort of books that she had, which surprised her, for hers had been chosen for her by her literary father.
'My father was a professor at Cambridge, and that is why I have read these books,' explained Amy, delighted to find some one whose tastes were congenial; in fact, it is to be doubted which of the two was most pleased.
They were so interested in discussing a certain author that they took little notice of the other two. Every now and then a low laugh told them that the two younger girls were enjoying themselves as much as the 'old people,' as they called their elders.
'Now,' cried Eva, 'let us lay a statement of accounts before them!'
The elders stopped in their conversation, and looked at Eva and Vava, whose faces were flushed with excitement, and whose eyes were dancing as Stella had not seen Vava's dance since she left Lomore, not even on their motor drive.
Amy took the sheet of paper Eva handed her, saying, 'Eva is a great mathematician; she takes after her father.'
'Barnes! Did he write an arithmetic?' inquired Vava; and when Eva nodded, she added, 'Why, I use it at school!'
'What accounts have you been making out?' asked Stella in a friendly tone, for this last fact seemed a link between them as the daughters of literary men.
'Our new house and its expenses,' announced Vava.
Amy looked half-fearfully at Stella, for she thought she would be annoyed at the girl's persistence; but, to her surprise, Stella read the paper through with apparent interest.
'Rent, £34; taxes, £12; food, £90; firing and gas, £20; servant, £12; washing, £12, extras, £20—total, £200,' she read out.
'That's only the summary of it; here are the details. We have made out a menu for a week and washing for four people and household linen,' explained Eva.
'It is a step which requires consideration; we might not care for each other's company on closer acquaintance,' said Stella.
But Vava interrupted impulsively, 'We have arranged for that; we would have two sitting-rooms, and only come together when we liked; and, anyway, they couldn't be as disagreeable as our landlady. Fancy, she won't cook in the evenings, and she always wants to know if we are not going out to friends on Sunday, and it makes us feel as if we ought to go somewhere out of her way.'
Stella did not quite like Vava's frankness. Seeing which, Amy hastened to say, 'That was our experience in lodgings, and one of the reasons we gave them up. It is very difficult to know what to do; but at Bleak House we have not that difficulty. I should like you to see it. Would you'—here she hesitated and coloured—'would you and your sister give us the pleasure of your company to-morrow? We are so many that a few more make no difference, and we are encouraged to bring our friends.'
It would have been difficult to refuse an invitation so diffidently given; besides, Stella liked Amy Overall, and Vava's eyes were begging her to say 'Yes,' and she did so, and was rewarded by the evident pleasure which she had given every one.
'Stella, couldn't we do it, don't you think?' pleaded Vava on the way home.
'Take a house, do you mean? I don't know, Vava; we may some day—who knows?—but not yet awhile,' replied Stella, who was anxious not to damp her sister's delight in these castles in the air.
'If you only knew how horrid it is to hear the other girls talking of going home; they have all got homes but me,' said Vava wistfully.
Stella tried to comfort her, and began to talk of their visit next day, and of how they could get there after church, and Vava cheered up at the thought of a day with Eva, who was so little older than she that they got on very well together.
Amy meanwhile was taking Eva to task. 'You surely were not serious; and, if not, do you think it was kind to raise hopes and put ideas which can never be realised into that child's head?' she demanded severely.
'I was quite serious; it was a sudden inspiration, and, mark my words, it will be realised!' declared Eva.
'Not by me; I am not going to run into all sorts of expenses which a house always entails,' said Amy.
'Now, isn't that funny? It is always the unexpected that happens; one would have expected the cautious Scotch Miss Wharton to be the one to make objections, whereas she is inclined to risk it—I could see that in the corner of her eye—and you are the timid one,' declared Eva.
'On the contrary, Miss Wharton was only too polite to crush you. When she says she's ready to take a house with us I shall certainly be ready to agree,' replied Amy Overall, feeling certain that she would not be asked to do so.
'All right; that's a promise of which I shall remind you before long, you will see,' said Eva; and then talked of the morrow and what they should do with their visitors.