'I really don't understand. I made it clear this morning; but since you have read it there is no more to be said,' she replied in tones of scorn.
'It is very easy to understand; the letter arrived on Saturday afternoon, and I happened to be here and opened it. I only laughed, and liked the child better for her openness. I have it here; you can take it and read it if you like, unless you will do me the honour to believe that there is nothing in it which makes me respect either of you less, and to let me keep the letter.'
Stella struggled with many emotions during this speech, and then she said in a subdued voice, 'Pray, keep it,' and turned to leave the room.
'And may we consider your resignation withdrawn?' he asked.
'Certainly,' said Stella, and she could not help feeling somehow that she had made herself very ridiculous, and it gave her an unwonted feeling of humility as she went home, which Vava's conversation did not help to allay.
'Well,' was her greeting, 'what did Mr. Jones say?'
'He got the letter on Saturday afternoon, so I was too late to prevent his opening it,' Stella replied.
'O-oh! But you needn't really mind, Stella; he would not think any the less of you for it,' she observed.
'He was very polite about it,' said Stella in a reserved tone.
Vava looked inquiringly at her sister. 'I hope you were polite, because he's a most awfully nice man to be with, and you don't half-appreciate it,' she said with her usual candour.
And then Doreen, who was buying a book at the bookstall, joined them, and the subject was dropped, to Stella's relief; and Vava, who would have liked to know what Mr. Jones said, finding her curiosity was not to be gratified by Stella, privately made up her mind to ask Mr. Jones on Saturday when he helped her with her algebra.
What satisfaction she got out of him will be told later on; but, though the storm had blown over this time, it was not the last quarrel between Stella and her employer, and Vava declared to Mrs. Morrison that it was 'no good, for Stella would never get on with Mr. James Jones, who really was the nicest man she had ever met, and quite a gentleman.' Whether this was a true prophecy time will show.
Both the sitting-rooms at 2 Heather Road were rarely used at the same time, for Vava learnt her lessons either with Doreen or with Mrs. Morrison in the kitchen, which, the girl declared, was 'the most comfortable room in the house,' and which, at any rate, was always spotlessly clean, and had a bright fire burning, and certainly looked inviting enough with the kindly, gray-haired woman sitting in the wooden arm-chair at the table knitting stockings for her 'young leddies' or mending their clothes. So that Stella would have been alone if she had not sat with the two others, who were only too glad to have her, not only because they both liked her, but because they did not care to be left alone either.
It was a sad fact which Amy had come to realise, that Eva no longer made a friend of her, but shut herself up within herself, and only opened out to Mrs. Morrison, and even to her she only spoke about her life before she came to London, since which, she explained, she had only existed. She never spoke of the present time.
As for Vava, she avoided Eva's society rather than sought it. Stella allowed her to be as much with Doreen as she liked, and she took advantage of the permission not only to do her lessons with her, but to invite her to learn knitting or hear tales of the Highlands from Mrs. Morrison, when, if she liked, Eva was free to join them, and was welcomed.
This seemed quite natural; but when Vava had spent two or three whole Saturdays with Doreen, for she did not often go to the City on that day now, Stella woke up to the fact that Eva was rather out of it. She and Amy were great friends, and though they always invited Eva to come with them on their outings, they knew that she felt it dull, for their conversation was all of books which Eva had never read. So Stella took Vava to task.
'How is it you never go out with Eva, Vava? She has two or three times had to go for a walk by herself, because you were busy, so she said, and then you go off a little later with Doreen!' she protested.
'Of course I go with Doreen; she is in my class, and we do everything together, and I have more to say to her,' said Vava.
'But that is rather selfish; Eva is living in the same house with you, and yet you take no notice of her except at meal-times, and the poor girl is lonely,' expostulated Stella.
'She can go out with you and Amy. Amy was her friend before she came to live with us, why shouldn't she be friends with her still?' argued Vava.
'I am afraid I have rather taken possession of Amy; but I thought as you two were much of an age you would fraternise, and I find Amy's society very congenial,' said Stella.
'And so do I find Doreen's society very congenial, and you can't be friends with people just because it is convenient; but I don't mind asking her to come with Doreen and me next Saturday,' replied Vava.
Fortunately Eva did not hear this condescending remark, and accepted the invitation, and the three went botanising some miles out of town.
Stella elected to stay at home, as Amy had letters to write, and she was sitting alone in their pretty sitting-room when a motor drove up to the door, and looking out of the bow-window in which she was sitting she saw Mrs. Montague Jones alight. As she had been seen, there was nothing for it but to receive her visitor civilly when Mrs. Morrison ushered her in. But before the old Scotchwoman did this, she stopped to have quite an animated conversation in the hall with the visitor. Stella had never been annoyed with her old nurse before, but she felt quite cross at this odd behaviour. The motor was throbbing so noisily outside that she could not hear what they were saying, but they were evidently on very good terms with each other.
This may have helped to make her manner colder than usual; for Mrs. Montague Jones almost made up her mind to give up any further attempts to be friendly with this unfriendly girl. However, she had strong reasons besides kind-heartedness for persevering, and persevere she did. Fortunately Stella, who, to do her justice, was quite unaware of her cold manner, remembered that it was to Mrs. Jones's kind thoughtfulness that she had that pretty sitting-room, and she hastened to thank her.
'Indeed we were only too glad for you to have it, as we have plenty of sitting-rooms besides that, and we had settled, my husband and son and I, that we would not use your rooms at Lomore—yours and Vava's,' said Mrs. Jones.
The Joneses were showing very kindly feeling, which surprised Stella, who answered lamely, 'You are very kind; but it does not matter, as they are not our rooms now.'
'But we hope to see you there some day; in fact, you will always be most welcome to occupy them. At any rate, my son would not have them used, and insisted on the furniture being sent down here,' said Mrs. Jones.
'It is very kind of your son; but please explain to him that the place is no longer ours, nor have we any connection with it now, and that we are never likely to see it again. I hope you will not think me rude, Mrs. Jones, but I could never go to Lomore again,' Stella said; and she could not help the tears rising to her eyes, much to her annoyance.
'Indeed I understand that, and I feel that you must hate us, and if it were not that my husband is so taken with Vava and with you, if you will forgive my saying so, I would not intrude my acquaintance upon you; but I must give you his message. He wants me to ask if you and your sister will not come home with us and dine after the breaking-up at the City school on Friday week, and let us go and seeHenry VIII.acted afterwards; Vava is studying it at school. My husband has to take the chair and make a speech at the breaking-up, and I shall have to go with him. You are going of course?'
'I do not know, but I dare say I shall be able to get away from the office. I am not a free agent, you know; but I will ask my employer's leave to have the afternoon off,' said Stella.
'Of course you can have the afternoon, and you will come back and dine with us, won't you—you and your sister? I should like you to know my son better,' Mrs. Jones begged her.
Stella thought this rather an odd way of speaking, as she did not know the aforesaid son, 'better or worse,' nor had she any desire to know him, and was sure that she could picture him as a young edition of his bullet-headed, commonplace-looking father; but she felt that she could not refuse the invitation to dinner, and accepted it with her pretty smile, which made Mrs. Jones forgive a good deal.
'My son will be very pleased,' was her reply, which made Stella almost repent of her acceptance, and she was surprised at Mrs. Jones's continual and tactless references to her son and heir, as Stella bitterly felt. She understood, or thought she understood, that in a way Mrs. Jones and this son felt that they had ousted her from her inheritance, and wanted to make amends to her. 'As if they could!' she said with some scorn.
However, it was impossible to remain untouched by such kindness, and when Mrs. Morrison brought in hot scones she said quite friendlily, 'This is in your honour, Mrs. Jones; nursie does not make scones for every one, and I don't think I should have been favoured this afternoon, as Vava is out.'
So Mrs. Jones went away quite satisfied with her visit, and told her husband, with a sigh of relief, 'She's actually coming; but upon my word, Monty, I doubt if the game's worth the candle. It's more exhausting to try and get on with that young woman than any number of haughty dowagers, and really I should be sorry for our boy to fall in love with her; it would be slow work having a statue for a wife.'
'She would not be a statue if she were a happy wife; the City has petrified her,' said Mr. Jones.
'I don't remember that she was particularly unbending at Lomore before the City had time to chill her,' said Mrs. Montague Jones dryly.
'No, but adversity had done that,' her husband reminded her; and he was as pleased as his wife at Stella's acceptance of their invitation.
But this was nothing to Vava's delight. 'And you actually are going? I am so glad, and you are going to seeHenry VIII.also! Nursie must make haste and finish my black embroidered silk, and I must finish reading the play. Mr. Jones says it's splendidly staged!' she exclaimed.
'When did you see Mr. Jones?' inquired Stella.
'In the office yesterday, when I came to fetch you. He told me where to go botanising this afternoon,' explained Vava.
'Oh,' said Stella, 'that Mr. Jones!' and it flashed across her mind that the two Joneses certainly knew each other, and very probably were related, and that, also very probably, at the office Mr. Jones had mentioned the fact of Vava's interest inHenry VIII.and that she was going botanising without her (Stella), who would consequently be at home alone. Well, after all, it did not matter; they meant to be kind, and she would accept their kindness in the spirit it was given.
'Do you know life's very funny? I mean, the way things happen are funny,' observed Vava, breaking in upon her sister's thoughts.
'What is that apropos of?' inquired her elder sister, smiling.
'Why, this afternoon. I thought it was going to be spoilt for me because Eva was coming with us for our walk, and then I come home and find a delightful invitation waiting for me—a motor drive, a dinner-party, and the theatre; and I dare say we shall go and have ices at some nice restaurant afterwards. Mr. Jones knows I love ices,' observed Vava.
'Don't be greedy, Vava; I think you are getting spoilt. Why should Eva's going with you spoil your walk? I hope Doreen is not making mischief between you? You liked Eva at first, I thought?' said Stella in a tone of reproof.
'Doreen is above such a thing; it's Eva's own fault; besides, I do like her, only I don't always like the way she talks,' said Vava rather hotly.
'She talks a great deal better than Doreen, as a matter of fact. What has she done to offend you? You had better tell me, for I think she feels that you avoid her, and it is very unkind unless you have some good reason,' persisted Stella.
'I haven't anything against her; it is just that Doreen and I don't approve of her,' announced Vava.
'Pray, what business have you and Doreen to judge other people?' exclaimed Stella. 'What do you disapprove of? I insist upon knowing.'
'You don't approve of her yourself, Stella,' said Vava.
'I don't remember ever having said so.'
'You said you did not approve of her buying that suite of furniture,' Vava reminded her.
'I beg your pardon, I said I did not approve of getting furniture on the hire-system for myself; but I never criticised Eva. I know nothing of her private affairs, nor do I wish to pry into them, and you and Doreen have nothing to do with them either; so if that is all you have against her you had better put it out of your mind.'
'It isn't only that. She never goes to church'——began Vava.
'Vava, I am ashamed of you! Eva may well say that churchgoing does not seem to make people better. What right have you to set yourself up to judge other people in that pharisaical manner? It is a most unchristian spirit. I know I am not a very good example, for I am not at all humble; but I think if we want Eva to go to church and be better we shall only do it by being very nice to her, and not by treating her unkindly and making her feel that we think ourselves superior,' said Stella very gravely.
Vava listened with equal gravity, but made no reply. If she had spoken what was in her mind she would have said that those were not the only two reasons for disapproving of Eva; but she abstained, and when she saw Doreen that evening she informed her that she was going to be nice to Eva.
'I think we are nice to her; we took her for a walk with us on Saturday, though she doesn't care a bit about botany, and wanted to be at the skating-rink or the pictures, and talked bosh.' She paused, and then added, 'By the way, does your sister know what silly stuff she talks?' she asked.
'No, I did not tell her. Stella is particular, and if she knew some of the things Eva says she would be very angry; in fact, she would probably not let me speak to her at all; and then I don't know what would happen, for we could not go on living in the same house like that,' remarked Vava.
'Anyway, I don't believe my mother would let me be friendly with her if she knew. I don't know what to do,' said Doreen.
'We must reform her,' announced Vava.
Doreen laughed. 'I don't think we should have much influence upon her. She thinks she's very clever because she has read some silly books which say that one should get all the enjoyment one can out of this life because it's all that's certain, and you can't argue with a person like that, who says you have a right to be happy, and that things are right that you know quite well are wrong, only you can't prove it. Father would be horrified if he heard her; he'd say she was dangerous.'
'She's only silly,' said Vava in a superior tone. Then they were both silent, until she exclaimed suddenly, 'Doreen, I have it. I'll tell nursie all about it!'
'She'll be worse than father; she's awfully strait-laced,' protested Doreen.
'Yes, but she's very charitable too, and she likes Eva. If any one can do anything with Eva, nursie can,' declared Vava.
'Well, tell Mrs. Morrison, then, because I think some one ought to know, and to tell her that she ought not to talk to us like that; we don't like it, and it muddles one up,' said Doreen with a laugh.
'It does not muddle me; it's against the Bible, and I'd rather go by that than by Eva,' said Vava; and that ended the conversation.
But when Vava told the old housekeeper of Eva's unorthodox views and sayings she did not seem at all shocked, or even impressed, by the information.
'Says we are put into this world to enjoy ourselves, does she? Well, so we are, and so we shall if we do what is right,' she observed cheerfully.
'But, nursie, you don't think Eva is doing what is right, do you?' inquired Vava, who was quite put out at this way of taking what the girl had been half-afraid to tell her, for fear the old woman should refuse to have anything more to do with Eva.
She was to be yet further surprised, for the housekeeper turned on her severely. 'And who am I, to say whether the poor young lady is doing right or wrong? As for what she says about religion, we know she is mistaken; but all you have to do is to refuse to talk about it. I never knew any good come of arguing on such matters, especially amongst young people. You can say a prayer for Miss Eva, and that's all you have to say,' she said, and turned to poke the fire.
Vava was silenced for the moment, and then her irrepressible spirits, which had returned at sight of her old nurse and the new home, burst forth, 'What will you do in summer, nursie? You'll have no fire to poke then, and you won't be able to change the conversation when you want!'
Nurse gave a smile of grim amusement (she rarely laughed) at Vava's shrewdness. 'I think I'll manage it without the poker, Miss Vava,' she declared.
At any rate, though she had not been very sympathetic, and did not seem to think it mattered, or that Eva was worse than any one else (or so Vava imagined), she had set the girl's mind at rest; and as neither nursie nor Stella seemed to think her an undesirable companion, she and Doreen must just invite her to go with them on their expeditions, when, if she chose, Eva could be very amusing, only that lately she had not chosen, or else had been too unhappy; for, in spite of all her talk about enjoying life, she did not look happy.
'All right,' said Doreen, with a shrug of her shoulders when Vava told her. 'I'm sure I don't want to be a Pharisee, and if we've got no poker to turn the conversation, as Mrs. Morrison has, we can use our tongues, and perhaps she's right, and that it would be no good even for her to talk to Eva; she's frightfully obstinate.'
The two Wharton sisters, it will be remembered, shared a large bedroom, which was in the front of the house, and the other two girls had smaller bedrooms at the back; while Mrs. Morrison's was half-way up the stairs, and here Vava always went to say good-night and get her 'evening text' from her old nurse, with whom it had been a practice ever since she had been a little girl to say a text to her, generally one which she had read that evening, to take to bed with her, as the old woman put it.
She had said good-night to the housekeeper, and was going to her own room, when she heard what sounded like a moan from Eva's room as she passed the door. 'Eva!' she cried, 'are you ill?'
There was no answer; but, as it seemed to the listener, a scuffle and a kind of gasp. Vava had a vivid imagination, and her mind jumped to the conclusion that this meant a burglar with whom Eva was struggling. Vava was no coward, and she was a strong athletic girl as well, so she did not hesitate a moment, but opened the door and burst into Eva's room. She stopped in amazement, for there was no burglar; but Eva, her face swollen with crying, was apparently making a survey of all her wardrobe and other possessions, for the bed, chairs, and floor were strewn with clothes, books, and all sorts of things.
'What do you want? Why didn't you knock at the door?' she inquired, looking annoyed and trying to dry her eyes.
'I am very sorry; I thought you were ill, or that there was something the matter,' stammered Vava, who wanted badly to comfort Eva, but did not know how to set about it.
'There's nothing the matter; I'm simply tidying up, and had a fit of the blues. Go to bed and don't say anything about it, there's a good girl,' replied Eva.
'Good-night, Eva. I 'm sorry you've got the blues. Are you sure there is nothing I can do for you?' asked Vava.
'No, nothing. Good-night,' said Eva, shutting and locking the door after her visitor.
Vava went slowly upstairs. The voice in which Eva had said 'nothing' made her feel miserable; but she did not see what she could do, and, even if the latter had not asked her not to say anything about it, she had not met with so much encouragement the last time she had talked about Eva and her concerns as to make her do so again.
After she was gone, Eva threw herself upon the bed, regardless of the piles of clothing already covering it, and gave way to a fit of weeping which seemed to do her good, for she sat up, and with a long sigh began to tidy up, which she had told Vava she was doing, though it certainly had not looked like it. And having put nearly everything away in the wardrobe or chest of drawers, she made up two parcels—one quite small, containing a gold bracelet and watch; and the other a large one, in which she put a very pretty silk frock. Then, with another huge sigh, she went to bed.
The next morning at breakfast Eva's place was vacant.
'Where is Eva? Is she not down?' asked Amy, who was generally the last, and now sat down to take a hurried breakfast.
'No, she has not appeared yet.—You might run and see if she has overslept herself, Vava,' suggested Stella.
'I wish you'd go, Stella,' replied Vava.
Stella did not look at all pleased at Vava's disobligingness; but she was too dignified to argue, and getting up she went herself to Eva's room.
Amy looked with disapproval at Vava, who said, 'Eva did not like it when I went to her room last night.'
'I think she had a headache; she said so when I knocked at her door,' observed Amy.
'She is not in her room!' exclaimed Stella on her return.
Amy got up, looking disturbed. 'I wonder if Mrs. Morrison has seen her?' she remarked, and went to inquire.
'Yes, she's had her breakfast and has gone off to town,' said the old lady.
'Gone to town? It's only a quarter-past eight! Why has she gone so early?' she inquired.
'That I can't tell you,' said Mrs. Morrison.
'I shall come up with you; I do dislike travelling by myself in these morning trains. I can't understand Eva,' Amy said with a sigh.
It did not occur to Amy to ask the housekeeper if Eva had left any message or explanation for her, and so she got none. As a matter of fact, Eva had said as she went out, 'If they ask where I've gone just say I have business in town.'
Mrs. Morrison made no reply, nor did she appear to see the two parcels which Eva tried to hide as she left the house; but when the gate shut behind her Mrs. Morrison looked after her with kindly pity. 'Poor bairn, she'll learn by this bitter lesson,' she said to herself; and yet Eva had made no confidences to her, nor had Mrs. Morrison said anything to the girl about her private affairs. In fact, Vava was inclined to think that the old woman was blind to Eva's faults, for she seemed to pet her even more than the rest.
She would have been confirmed in this opinion if she had been down earlier; for when Eva came into the kitchen and asked in a hurried way if she could have a cup of tea, as she wanted to go earlier to town, instead of saying she ought to have told her the evening before, Mrs. Morrison said pleasantly, 'You can have your breakfast as soon as you like. What train must you catch?'
'The 8.5,' replied Eva.
'Then you have twenty-five minutes to eat a good breakfast, and if you will be so good as to sit by the fire and toast this bread I will have it ready for you in five minutes,' declared the housekeeper.
It was a cold March morning, and Eva looked very chilly, and perhaps it was that which made the kindly Scotchwoman suggest the toast and draw up a chair for her before the bright kitchen fire, for as a matter of fact she generally made it on the toaster.
Eva was only too glad to sit close to the fire and watch the good woman moving so quietly about and yet getting everything so quickly. 'Let me have it here, may I?' she cried impulsively, for the old woman's presence and her motherly attentions soothed the girl.
'If you wish. I doubt if the sitting-room is very warm yet, so I'll put your tray on this table near the fire, and you'll get well-warmed before you go out, and that's the secret of not taking chills,' remarked the old woman as she put a plate of crisp bacon on the tray and a hot roll beside it.
'You are a lovely cook, Mrs. Morrison,' said Eva. 'When I'm rich I'd like you to live with me.'
'If you want to be rich when you are old you must save when you are young. I'm thinking of buying you all money-boxes and putting into them all the money I save for you every week,' she observed, for she was given the housekeeping money every week, on Saturday, and after putting aside for the rent, the rest was left with her to do as she thought best; and on the next Saturday she accounted for it to Stella and Amy, who, she insisted, must go into the accounts and see how it all went, and to their astonishment and delight there was always a small balance, which they left with the housekeeper for emergencies.
'I don't know how you manage to save anything. I couldn't. In fact, I can't live on what I earn. If I don't get a rise I don't know what I am to do,' said Eva.
'But you have more than my young lady, so you told me; if she can live on it, why can't you?' objected the housekeeper.
'Because I am extravagant, I suppose; but I can't, and there's the end of it,' said Eva.
'Nay, my bairn, that's not the end of it; the end of it is a very bad one—debt and dishonesty, for they are the same thing to me—if one does not try to put a better end to it; and, I'm sure, you would not keep in debt, would you? But there, it's no time for such conversation at this hour, when you ought to be eating a good breakfast before going out to earn an honest livelihood. Have a piece more bacon, Miss Eva; it's hot and will keep you going till dinner-time—you've a long morning before you, remember,' urged the housekeeper.
Then she made up a little parcel with Eva's lunch, for she declared it was extravagant to pay sixpence a day for dinner when she could always give them pies or sandwiches to eat at midday, and cook them a nice hot dinner in the evening.
Eva did not say anything, but though she was quiet she looked less miserable than she had done when she came down. That day she did not go to the Enterprise Club, where they ate their cold lunch or had the pies heated if they liked; and when Amy rang her up on the telephone she said she was lunching with a friend. Nor did she come home by the same train as Amy, who even waited for the next, and then gave her up in despair.
'What happened to you, Eva?' asked Stella. Neither Amy nor Vava cared or dared to question her when she did come in, looking very tired and with dark rims round her eyes.
'I missed my train,' she replied, throwing herself into a chair in an attitude of utter exhaustion.
'You must have missed two trains,' said Amy.
'Yes, I did; I saw the second one go out of the station as I came in; the office clock must have been slow,' observed Eva.
'I should not trust to the office clock,' said Stella.
'I thought you said your watch had never lost a minute since you had had it,' remarked Vava.
It seemed an innocent enough remark; but Eva flushed crimson, and said, 'I wish you would not worry me like this. I suppose I can miss my train without all this fuss?' Then she got up and left the room, and they noticed that she had not her wrist-watch on.
No one made any remark upon her conduct, and at dinner they tried to cheer her up by being very cheerful themselves; but the effort proved a vain one. After a rather depressing meal, Eva got up and went to bed, as she said; at all events, she retired to her room. Vava went off to do her lessons with Doreen, and Amy and Stella were left together.
'Stella, what are we to do? We can't let her go on like this!' cried Amy.
'I don't see what we are to do. Of course it is easy to see that something is upsetting her, and I suppose it is the payment for that furniture; but I do not think she is in the mood to be spoken to about it. We must just wait until she says something herself, and be as nice to her as we can meanwhile,' was Stella's advice.
'I am so afraid she will get into more and more trouble; this friend, whoever she is, with whom she lunched to-day has not a good influence upon her. I always notice that she propounds some of her reckless ideas after she has been with her, and I have no doubt it was she who persuaded her to buy that wretched furniture, which is far too large for her room,' said Amy.
'She must buy her own experience, as nursie says; and, by the way, she told me the other day not to worry about Eva, as she would come all right, for her heart was in the right place,' said Stella.
'One consolation is that she is going to her old home for Easter, and I am hoping that seeing her old friends will bring her back to what she was when she came up to town. I am going there too. I know most of her friends, and I am sure they will do her good,' said Amy.
The object of all this solicitude had gone to bed, and was lying there reading a book she did not wish them to see downstairs, which engrossed her so much that she fell asleep over it and left her gas burning all night!
'We shall just have a quiet Easter here with nursie, Vava; you won't mind not having sea-breezes now that you have her, will you?' Stella inquired of her sister a week before the Easter holidays began.
They were sitting in the Enterprise Club waiting for Amy, who now had frequently to go home alone, as Eva was often very late, and had told her friend not to wait for her. So, as it only meant getting home half-an-hour later, the sisters had promised to wait for Amy to-day.
All round them were girls talking of their Easter holidays, and every one was going away somewhere, either to the sea or to the country, or to their respective homes, wherever they were.
Stella knew very few of them, and those only to say good-morning to; but they all turned to ask her where she was spending her holidays and how long she had; and when she had told them she had ten days, and meant to spend them at home, they were loud in their expression of surprise.
And Vava too seemed to be depressed at hearing of all these plans for pleasure; though when they asked her if she did not want to go away she immediately answered by saying of course she did not.
One of the girls, with less tact than the others, guessing that it was a matter of expense, remarked, 'I should go away if I were you if only for the day, if you can't afford more. But it really wouldn't cost much; there are lots of places where they take in business girls for as little as ten shillings a week, and it will cost you nearly that at home. I can give you some addresses if you like.'
'No, thank you,' said Stella with stiff politeness, and she was glad that Amy appeared just then, so that she could get out of the club-room, which had never been so distasteful to her before.
'All the same, Stella,' observed Vava, when the three of them were in the train, and although Stella had made no remark upon the subject, 'I should like to go away for the day on Easter Monday. They say Bank Holiday is a horrid day in London, and you can get very cheap tickets to the sea on that day.'
'Go in an excursion train!' cried Stella in accents of dismay.
'You would not like it at all, Vava; it would be ten times worse than stopping in town. Besides, Blackstead is not town, and you will not see many holiday-makers down Heather Road; it will be quieter than an excursion train, with twenty people crowded into one carriage, and then spending the day at a crowded seaside resort,' said Amy.
'Oh well, I think it was only to say I had been somewhere; all the girls at school are going away, even Doreen will be away; but I don't really mind,' said Vava.
And so it was arranged, and the next week was spent in rehearsing a play for Founder's Day.
'Fancy, Stella, I am to be Beatrice in our play; only it is not called Beatrice, but "Beatreechee,"' explained Vava, pronouncing it, as she hoped, in correct Italian fashion.
'What play are you acting—Shakespeare's?' inquired Stella.
'No, Dante's, and the proper Beatrice has got ill, and they have chosen me, partly because I am the same height, and so her clothes will fit me, and partly because they say my face suits, though I don't think I am a bit Italian-looking. Do you think so, Stella?' Vava demanded.
Stella looked at her sister, and then remarked with a smile, 'No, I don't think you are; at least, not the type we call Italian.' But she privately thought the stage-manager had made a very good choice, for Vava had improved in looks since her arrival in London, and would make a handsome Beatrice.
'Miss Briggs says it does not matter, as none of us are Italian, nor look it; but that, as I have a good memory and can learn quickly, I shall be able to learn up her part. It's a lovely part, Stella, though Miss Briggs says it's not historical at all, and that Dante never said anything about talking to Beatrice, and she doesn't believe he ever spoke to her; but that's nonsense. How could any man write pages and pages of poetry about a person he had never spoken to?' demanded Vava.
'Quite well. Imagination goes a long way with poets, and I was just wondering how you were going to act Beatrice. She does not say much in the poem, and then only as a spirit; so you don't want clothes to fit.'
'Ah, but it is all her life before she dies; the play begins at the party where Dante first meets Beatrice,' said Vava, who had the book of words in her hand and was studying it.
'But you, or rather Beatrice, are only nine years old at that party. How are you going to manage that?' demanded Stella, for Vava was a tall girl, and had grown taller and slimmer since she had been in London.
'We can't take any notice of that; you have no imagination, Stella. How can I make myself into a little child in the first act, and then be grown-up in the second?' she asked impatiently.
'Then I think I should not attempt such a play; it is making a parody of Dante's glorious poem,' protested Stella, who had studied Dante with her father, and thought this play presumptuous.
'It's not a parody, and my opinion is that it's better than Dante's,' declared Vava.
Stella laughed outright at this assertion.
But Vava was not crushed. 'You wait and see; it's got some lovely scenes in it, and the stage scenery is beautifully painted by ourselves—at least, in the school by the painting-mistress and the girls. There's the Bridge of the Trinità at Florence, where Dante meets me and makes a beautiful speech, and I have quite a lot to say to him there,' said Vava.
'You ought not to have,' interposed Stella, meaning from a historical point of view.
But Vava—who was 'rehearsing her play' to Stella more for her own benefit than to entertain her sister—was not at all pleased at this criticism, and replied irately, 'If you want to see your old Dante you'd better not come, for we are not going by it at all.'
'So it appears,' observed Stella dryly.
'How could we—horrid, gruesome stuff? Pray, how would you expect us to put on the stage a lake of boiling pitch, with a lot of people in it heads downwards and their legs struggling in the air? And who would come to see it if we did? I wouldn't take part in such a horrid piece! Why, even the reading of it made me feel quite ill,' argued Vava.
'You need not pick out that particular scene; there are beautiful passages in Dante; but I do not think it is suitable for staging, and I can't understand why it has been chosen,' remarked her sister.
'It is calledDante: an Idyll; and, as I said before, you wait and see whether it is not splendid. I must go and rehearse this with Doreen now,' replied Vava.
'Is Doreen to be in the play too?' asked Stella.
'Yes, she's a Florentine painter named Giotto. It's very funny, but her features are just like his in his picture; and there's a Jewish girl in the school with a long face who makes up very well as Dante. Oh you will be astonished when you see our play; we do things in style at our school, I can tell you!'
'Don't boast, Vava; it's very vulgar,' said Stella.
Vava did not answer back as she used to do, but went off to Doreen, whom she found studying her part diligently. 'I'm so glad you've come; it's no use saying this play to one's self. I know the words all right, but it's the coming in at the right place and the pronunciation. I wish, if you didn't mind, you would just say these speeches over first, and let me say them after you, and see if I can pronounce them like you. I would like to speak well, but I can't twist my mouth into shape as you do!' she exclaimed.
'But we don't twist our mouths; that is just what you do that you should not. See, talk like this, Doreen,' explained Vava; and for more than an hour she sat patiently repeating the words and correcting Doreen, who had a quick ear and copied her way of speaking fairly well, until at last Vava said, with a sigh of satisfaction, 'That's all right now, Doreen; you pronounce those words quite nicely, and you say your speeches ever so much better than the other girls; one would think you were a painter yourself, you speak with such feeling of the beautiful pictures you are supposed to be painting.'
'I don't know much about painting, though I like looking at pictures; but I do feel what I am saying, and I think it must have been splendid to have been Dante's friend as Giotto was, and have been inspired by him. No wonder he painted beautiful pictures, and one day I will go and see them all,' announced Doreen.
'I never thought of all that; then I ought to feel more still, because it is I that inspired Dante; but the worst of it is, Doreen, that I don't feel Beatrice at all,' Vava confided to her.
'How do you mean?' demanded Doreen.
'I don't feel as if I could possibly inspire a person like Dante; and, what's more, I don't want to,' she announced in a burst of confidence.
'You wouldn't like to have inspired the most beautiful poem that was ever written?' cried Doreen incredulously.
'No, I wouldn't like to have inspired a vision of such horrors,' maintained Vava stoutly.
Doreen could not help laughing at her tone. 'Then you can't admire some of my pictures,' she suggested.
'I like your little dog,' Vava replied, laughing too. This was an allusion to Giotto's famous sculpture of shepherds with a dog, on his beautiful tower at Florence.
And with this Doreen had to be satisfied.
'And you know, Doreen, they say I inspired him; but in this play I don't say anything very inspiring; it's Dante who has all the say, and utters all the beautiful speeches; I only have to try and look noble, and that's fearfully difficult and frightfully dull,' complained Vava.
'It's not difficult for you to look noble, because you are noble—in character, I mean—and you have a noble face,' declared Doreen.
'Oh Doreen! you horrid flatterer; that is just because you like me. I don't feel at all noble; but don't let's talk about that. Tell me if this is the proper way to move my hands when I am talking; the Italians gesticulate all the time they are talking, it appears. I don't know how they do it, for I have never been in Italy,' said Vava, talking rapidly, to prevent Doreen making any more such embarrassing remarks.
'You must wave them gracefully in the air, one at a time,' said Doreen, suiting the action to the word.
Doreen's action was anything but graceful, and Vava gave a peal of laughter.
'What is the matter?' demanded the former, stopping her windmill movements.
'I beg your pardon, but you did look so funny. I think I had better not pretend to be Italian; I can't move my hands gracefully, and I feel awkward all the time,' she said.
'Luckily I have not to be graceful, and I have a palette and paint-brush in my hands all the time; that gives me some occupation for my hands,' observed Doreen.
'Yes, but I don't believe you ought to point at people with your paint-brush; the Italians are a very polite nation, and I do not think they would do such a thing as that,' commented Vava.
Doreen looked grave. 'But I've got to point, and how am I to point except with my paint-brush, or the palette, which would be worse? I have one in each hand, and I haven't a third hand,' she said, after consideration.
Vava laughed. 'I suppose you can put one of them down for a minute. Giotto did not paint all day long,' she suggested.
'No, but I am going to. I would not be without them for the world, and I should feel as if I had six pairs of hands. I shall do like you, and not attempt to be an Italian,' she announced.
However, the two of them were very enthusiastic players, and at the dress-rehearsal it was doubtful which was the better. Vava, of course was prettier, and acted well, but hers was a difficult part; and Doreen seemed to have become an Italian artist for the time being, and entered into the life and feelings of a Florentine painter of the Middle Ages, and her dress was an exact copy of Giotto's. It was as well that the girls had become word-perfect in their play before the last week of the term; for that week, at least, Vava would have found it difficult to fix her mind on it. However, it was arranged that the dress-rehearsal should come off before the examination began, so as to leave the girls' minds free for them, and the girls all knew their parts a week beforehand.
Vava gave herself up to preparing for her examination, and took up nearly two hours of Mr. Jones's time one Saturday morning in having her algebra explained to her; and Stella, finding she could not stop this, decided that it would be best to take no notice of Mr. James Jones's goodness, and treat it as a personal matter between him and Vava, and have nothing to do with the matter, which was also Vava's opinion; for, as she said candidly to Stella, 'You are not so civil to him that he would care to do you a favour.'
Afterwards she felt that her candour both to Stella and the junior partner had been rather a mistake.
As a rule, an employer feels no diffidence in offering one of his employés a rise in salary; but Mr. James Jones found himself wondering how he was to tell Miss Wharton that the three months being up, her salary would be raised to two pounds. He always enclosed her cheque in an envelope, and sent it by the housekeeper with some other letters every Saturday morning. But this Saturday he wrote out the cheque for the increased amount, and tried to compose a civil note to inform her that the time for the usual rise had arrived. To begin with, he did not know how to address her. 'Dear Madam' sounded too formal, and he did not dare to say 'Dear Miss Wharton.' So he pushed the cheque on one side, and began opening his letters and giving them to Stella.
When she had gone, a knock came to the door, and Vava's bright face appeared.
'What a surprise; I thought you had given me up and got another mathematical master!' cried Mr. Jones, looking very pleased to see his young pupil again.
'Indeed I haven't; only I got lazy about coming up to the City on Saturday when there was a nice cosy fire to sit by and old nursie to talk to; but the examinations are next week, and I wanted to ask you to explain one or two rules to me,' said Vava, bringing her book up to the junior partner's desk.
'I shall be delighted; but I want you to explain to me first how to do something,' replied Mr. Jones.
'Me? But I can't explain anything you can't understand!' she exclaimed incredulously.
'Yes you can; you understand your sister,' he observed.
'Oh Stella'——began Vava, rather embarrassed; for Stella had requested her since the episode of the letter not to discuss her or her private affairs with Mr. James Jones or any one else.
'And I don't—I don't want to hurt her feelings,' continued Mr. James Jones.
'Oh well, I don't suppose you would; she says you are very civil and gentlemanly, and'——Here Vava stopped.
'Did she say that? I am very glad to hear it. What were you going to say?' he inquired.
'I think I had better not say any more. You know I got into an awful row about that letter, and nursie was cross with me too; so I really have begun to be very careful what I say now,' announced Vava.
'You need not be careful with me; still, I don't want you to say what you think you ought not. Now will you explain my difficulty to me? I want to write to your sister, and I don't know how to begin the letter,' he told her.
Vava opened her eyes wide. 'But she is in the next room!'
'I know; but I really could not say it to her,' said the junior partner, looking uncomfortable.
Vava looked at him keenly. 'I can't imagine why not; she's not so frightening as all that, unless you want to propose to her,' she added with a laugh.
Mr. Jones laughed too, although he coloured and looked fearfully at the door, as if Stella might by some evil chance be there. 'Would she be frightening if one proposed?' he asked in joke.
'I hope you won't, because she would not marry you, you know,' responded Vava.
'Thank you,' said Mr. Jones. And then he added, in a dry tone, 'As a matter of fact, I was not going to take any such liberty; I was going to tell her'——Here he stopped.
'That you didn't want her any more?' suggested Vava.
'On the contrary, that her services were worth more to the firm than she was being paid for them, and that her salary would be raised,' he observed.
'How jolly! Why can't you tell Stella that straight out? She isn't ashamed of earning money,' declared Vava.
Mr. Jones was not so sure of that. However, he so far took Vava's advice as not to write, but simply to send the cheque of the increased amount, and leave Stella to speak of it.
Meanwhile Mr. Jones set to work to explain not only one or two rules, but to go through all the term's work, and spent, not half-an-hour, but two hours at it; and Stella, who came in with her letters, could not help feeling grateful, and admiring the young man for his good-nature and the interest he was evidently taking in his pupil.
'Now if that does not bring you out first in the examination I shall be surprised, that's all!' he exclaimed, when, having come to the last rule, Vava declared that she understood them all.
'Then I shall have to give the prize to you,' she replied, laughing, and went off.
Now it happened that Stella did not open her cheque at all that morning, being very busy translating a long communication from a French firm, and on the way home she took it out of its large business envelope to put into her pocket-book, when her eye fell on the amount. 'Dear me! how stupid of Mr. Jones; he has made this cheque out wrong. If I wanted to cash this money it would be very inconvenient,' said Stella, who was very particular about paying all bills and accounts regularly every week.
'It's all right; he's raised your salary,' put in Vava.
Stella grew crimson with anger. 'How do you know? And what have you been telling him to make him do it? If it is because I couldn't afford to take you to the seaside, I may as well tell you it won't make any difference, and I am surprised at your complaining of not having enough money; it's just asking for it, that's what it is, and I never thought a sister of mine would beg!' she cried scornfully.
Vava's anger was roused by this injustice, and a wicked desire to tease her sister made her say, instead of denying the accusation, 'There was no need to beg; he says you are worth it to the firm.'
'I shall return it on Monday,' said Stella.
'Then you will be very silly. To tell you the truth, I wonder Mr. Jones puts up with you, and I should not be surprised if he gets tired of your nasty pride, and tells you to go,' remarked Vava.
Stella said nothing in answer to this impertinence. She was very angry with Vava; but now that she had time to think she felt that she had been too hasty, and should have asked an explanation from her sister, whom she could hardly believe had really asked for a rise; still it looked like it, its coming that morning. In a different tone she asked, 'What made Mr. Jones tell you about this cheque? I thought I told you not to discuss me?'
'I didn't—at least, how could I help it; he began it, and I had to answer him,' protested Vava.
'You ought to have declined to talk about me. One thing is certain, you will not have the chance again, for you shall not go to him with your sums or anything else. Our relations with Mr. Jones are simply business ones, and I don't want him to think we wish them to be anything else,' said Stella.
'That's just what I told him, and I said you would not marry him if he asked you!' cried Vava impulsively.
Many a time during the following week did Vava ask herself why she did such a silly thing as to repeat that foolish remark; but at the time she had no idea of the trouble it would cause.
Stella stared at her sister as if she could hardly believe her ears. 'You discussed my marrying Mr. Jones with him?' she asked, red and white in turns.
'I said you wouldn't marry him, so it's all right; you need not go upsetting yourself,' she replied, half-frightened at the effect her remark had had upon her elder sister.
'I do not want to hear anything more that you said. I have begged you to be more careful of what you say, but it seems to be hopeless; other arrangements will have to be made.' And she relapsed into cold silence; but Vava saw that tears of mortification were in her eyes.
The girl made one or two attempts to speak to Stella, but without success, and they walked home in silence from the station. Oh how glad Vava was to have 'nursie' there, into whose ears she poured the whole story.
'You should not have said it, Miss Vava; of course Miss Stella is vexed at your suggesting such a thing,' said the old woman.
'But she does not know that I suggested it; she only knows half the story, and I can't make her listen,' objected Vava.
'You must leave her alone till she comes round; her pride is hurt, and no wonder. What I do wonder at is your talking about such things as marriage to a strange gentleman; it's very unbecoming in a young lady of your age,' said the housekeeper.
But 'nursie' could say what she liked to her 'bairn,' who took it quite meekly, and did as she was told, and left Stella alone.
After dinner, at which they were all rather silent, Stella wrote a letter, which she took out and posted, not at the pillar but at the post-office.
'There now, she's written Mr. Jones a horrid letter, I'm quite sure!' exclaimed Vava to the housekeeper.
'It's none of your business if she has,' replied the latter.
'I don't know so much about that. Mr. Jones will think I repeated the conversation all wrong, and I'm certain she is sending back the extra money,' retorted Vava.
'You can't help that; your elder sister must do what she thinks right,' insisted the housekeeper.
'I can help it; I can write to Mr. Jones and tell him the truth,' declared Vava.
But Mrs. Morrison would not hear of this. 'You wrote once, and it vexed her; and now that she has forbidden you to go to see Mr. Jones any more you have nothing to do but obey, even if it is hard.'
'But he will think horrid things of me,' protested Vava.
'I do not think he will; but even so, you must abide by it. Dearie me, what bairns you all are! You are nothing but children, all of you, and making trouble for yourselves, as if there were not enough in the world without your adding to it,' said the good woman with a sigh, for she had taken Amy and Eva to her warm heart, and their troubles as well, and just now her keen eyes saw that there was trouble with them as well as with her own two 'bairns.'
Stella's walk had done her good, for she seemed more cheerful at tea, and spoke a few words to Vava, whose buoyant spirits revived at once. As Mrs. Morrison had said, they were all young; and when after tea Stella suggested a round game, they all joined in, and one would have thought to hear their merry laughter that they had not a care among them.
However, when Monday morning came, Stella came down to breakfast in her indoor clothes, and seemed to be taking things very easily.
'Stella, make haste, you will be late for the train, and I must be in time this morning, because it is the examination!' cried Vava impatiently.
'I am not coming with you to-day,' said Stella quietly.
'Then why did you not tell me? I let Doreen go past, and I must run now to catch the train!' cried Vava, rushing off in a great hurry.
Stella certainly thought she had made Vava understand that she was not going to town that day; but Vava very certainly did not understand it, and remarked to Doreen, 'Stella is coming by a later train; she is rather vexed with me for something stupid I said, so I dare say that's why she did not come with us.'
'I'm sorry; she's so pretty, and I like to look at her,' said Doreen; and then, Stella not being there to look at, she opened her books and began looking over work for the examination.
The day went very well. Vava answered every question in the algebra paper, and was only uncertain about two problems, and she decided when she went to call for her sister to show her the paper and ask her if she might not give it to Mr. Jones and just tell him how much he had helped her. The last event was always uppermost with Vava, and her examination seemed to be of much more importance than her sister's annoyance of Saturday, and it was with a very bright face that she went to her sister's little office at Baines, Jones and Co.'s to tell her how well she had got on. She walked in as usual without knocking, and to her surprise found Mr. Jones sitting at her sister's typewriter, or rather the typewriter her sister had used.
'What! you, Vava? Haven't you washed your hands of me too?' he said rather bitterly.
'I haven't washed my hands of you. Where is Stella?' she inquired in surprise, looking round, and determined to be very careful what she said to-day.
'Don't you know then?' he demanded.
'Know what? Have you quarrelled?' she inquired.
'I have not quarrelled, and as it takes two to make a quarrel I suppose we have not; but your sister has left, and I cannot imagine why, except that I raised her salary without explaining the reason,' he said.
'Left you! What reason did she give? When did she leave—just before I came?' asked Vava.
'She never came to-day. I had a letter instead, simply saying as there were only a few days to the holidays she begged to be excused from returning, as she wished to leave my employ.'
'Oh dear! it's all my fault,' sighed Vava, and she told the story of her conversation with Stella.
'Well, I am glad about one thing, and that is that I have seen you and had this explanation,' said Mr. Jones.
'But I ought not to be here; Stella said I wasn't to come and see you any more!' cried Vava, just remembering this fact.
'You did not come to see me—fate brought me to this room at this minute; but I won't keep you. I have written to your sister; but since you have explained matters I will write a different letter,' he observed.
'I do hope she'll come back to you,' sighed Vava.
'I doubt it; pride is very strong with your sister; but I hope we shall be friends in spite of it. Now, good-bye, don't miss your train,' he said, holding out his hand before Vava had time to ask how they could be friends without ever seeing each other.
As it was, she missed Doreen, who had gone by the earlier train, so she had to go home alone, a thing she had never done before; and she felt a little surprised and hurt at the indifferent way Mr. Jones had said good-bye to her for ever, as she believed.
Looking back on that examination week, Vava declared afterwards that it was the longest week and the most eventful of her whole life—it 'began badly and ended madly,' was how she put it, talking about it to nursie, her confidante and comforter during this trying time.
She went home, feeling rather depressed, with an inward conviction that her sister's leaving Messrs Baines, Jones & Co. was her fault in the first instance, and she made a mental resolution to be more careful in the future what she said. However, Stella met her with no reproachful looks, but was calmly darning a tablecloth as if she had not just thrown up thirty-five shillings, or rather two pounds, a week, which meant a good deal to them at the present moment.
'You never told me you were not going to town at all,' was Vava's greeting.
'It is none of your business,' said Stella, who, though she imagined she had told Vava, did not wish to be questioned on the subject.
'All the same, you might have told me, for I went to your little room as usual to fetch you, and there was Mr. Jones typing his own letters,' retorted Vava with an injured air.
As it happened, she was getting the best of it, for Stella, who was not at all pleased at this news, could not scold her for going there; besides, it made the elder sister rather uncomfortable to know how her sudden departure had inconvenienced her late employer. But not yet would she own herself to be in the wrong. 'I hope you did not stop and talk,' she remarked.
'I asked where you were, and Mr. Jones told me you had left; but he would not keep me, he said, as he knew you disliked him'——replied Vava.
'Vava, what do you mean?' interrupted her sister.
'If you had let me finish I was going to say, "being friends with me,"' said Vava.
'Then you should talk grammatically; it is not "him being friends" but "his being friends."'
'Well, he isn't either, so it does not matter,' replied Vava testily, for she was very sorry about it all, and this made her cross.
The next morning's post brought Stella three letters. One was from the junior partner, which she opened first, though why it should have interested her does not seem clear, as she had finished with him and would not return to him on any account; perhaps she wished to be asked at least.
If so, she was disappointed. Mr. Jones's note was short and formal. Stella had begun her letter of resignation 'Dear Sir;' but Mr. Jones replied: