MELLICENT
“HAPPY is the corpse, they say, that the rain rains on,� observed Mr. Popham, “but knowing his rheumatic nature, I could have wished him a drier day. However, we must take what comes, and it’s curious that what comes is generally what one would have preferred to be without. Life is very like a switchback railway,� continued Mr. Popham. “Now you’re up, a-looking down upon other human beings; and now you’re down a-looking up at ’em. And similarly your fellow-creatures as regards you. It’s a curious reflection that I shan’t ever measure out his colchicum again; or soothe the morning twinges in his knees and elbers with a lithia lollipop in a glass of warm water; or hear him swear when I tighten his straps and buckles; or fetch and carry his wigs between this and the hairdresser’s in Regent Place. Who do those wigs belong to now? Yesterday his coffin, an extra-sized, double oak casket, metal-lined, with plated handles and silver name-plate, stood in there!� He jerked his head at the double doors leading into the bedroom. “This morning we accompanied him to Woking Cemetery. This afternoon they are a-reading of the Will in Portland Place, and Odlett gave me his solemn word that John Henry shouldn’t remove his ear from the library keyhole without finding out whether a little bit on account of faithful services rendered hadn’t been left to Frederick T. Popham, valet to the above. For he promised to leave me something all along, and almostwith his last breath, ‘I haven’t forgotten you, Popham,’ says he. ‘You’ve been remembered, you’ll find, in the Will.’ And ... Lord! Was that you? What a turn you gave me, Miss Mellicent!�
“Why, you’re quite nervous, Mr. Popham, sir,� said Miss Mellicent.
Miss Mellicent had bumped at the door with the end of a coal-scuttle, and now apologized, bringing it in. Miss Mellicent was a thin person of some thirty London summers, dressed in a worn black gown with stray threads sticking out where crape had been ripped off. Her hair would have been a nice brown if it had been less dusty, her gray eyes were timid and kind, and her dingy pale face had a look of belated girlhood—was sometimes quite transfigured into prettiness when she smiled.
“I’ll own I am a little unlike myself,� agreed Mr. Popham. “Perhaps it’s his luggage all ready in a pile near the door, as if we were off to a foreign Spa within the next five minutes, or going down to Helsham to stop in his usual rooms in the south wing. Perhaps it’s his going off so sudden in quite a mild attack. Perhaps it’s the strain of the funeral this morning, perhaps it’s sympathy for Sir George and the family, perhaps it’s a little anxiety on my own account! I know what he had, and I’ve my notions as to how he’s disposed of it! The likeliest way to bring about a lawsuit and get it into Chancery would be his way, bless you! The embroilingest way; the way to bring about the greatest amount of jealousy and bitterness; the way to cost the most to all concerned and bring about the smallest return in the way of satisfaction and profit to ’em, would be the way he’d give the preference to over all. And if he was a-listening to me at this minute,� said Mr. Popham, with a slight uncomfortable glance toward the folding doors that led into the bedroom—“andI’m sure I hope he’s better employed!—he’d own I’ve done him no more than justice!�
“The many years I’ve known General Bastling,� said Miss Mellicent, “and it’s going on for twenty that he’s lodged with us four months in each twelvemonth—I’ve never asked or cared to know. Was he a rich gentleman?�
“Why, I should call him pretty snug at that,� said Mr. Popham. “Ten thousand in Home Rails; a pretty little nest-egg of five thousand in Government Three per Cents; a matter of sixteen hundred invested in the Chillianmugger Anthracite Mining Company; and a nice little bit of loose cash in the current account at Cox’s. That’s what I’ve my eye on, to tell you the truth; and I don’t think it’s unnatural or greedy.�
“I would never believe you selfish or money-seeking,� said Miss Mellicent, folding her hard-worked red hands upon her worn stuff apron, “not if an Angel was to come down out of the stained-glass window in church—I sit under it on a Sunday evening sometimes, when I’m not wanted at home—and tell me so!�
“I hope I’m not naturally more of a groveler than other men in my situation—my late situation—would be,� returned Mr. Popham. “But forty odd is getting on in years, and I’m reluctant at my time of life to go looking for another middle-aged gentleman to valet. The young ones are too harum-scarum and given to late hours for a man like me; and if they weren’t, they’d be unnatural phenomenons. A nice little inn in a country town, with a decentish bar custom and a solid bottle-and-jug department, and a cold lunch in the coffee-room on market-days, would suit me; with Hunt, Harriers, Freemasons, and Friendly Societies’ dinners to cater for; and a private understanding with a few gamekeepers anxious to promotetheir own interests in a quiet, unassuming way—the guards of the late and early Expresses—and one or two West End poulterers and greengrocers as I have met in what I might call the butterfly stage of my existence, when I wore silk stockings and livery, floured my hair regular, wore a bookay on Levée and Drawing-Room days, and would as soon have eaten cold joint or cleaned the carriage as taken up coals. And why I haven’t relieved you of the scuttle before this, is a question between me and my conscience. Let me take it and put it down. It won’t be the first time, if it is the last, will it?�
“Don’t, Mr. Popham, sir!� pleaded Miss Mellicent; “don’t speak in that downhearted way.� Her red hands plucked at a corner of her dingy stuff apron, her gray eyes were already pink about the rims. Tears rose in them. She coughed and swallowed nervously.
“The Bastling Arms is the name of that there little inn,� said Mr. Popham. “The sign is the same as the crest onhisnotepaper and his seal-ring and the lock of that despatch-box.� He pointed to the despatch-box crowning the pile of solid, well-used, much be-labeled portmanteaux and imperials that occupied the corner near the door of the room—a comfortably furnished, rather dingy second-floor apartment in a quiet street above, and running parallel with, Oxford Circus. “The landlord died the day before yesterday—as if to oblige or aggravate me, I don’t know which!—and the widow, knowing my ambitions, dropped me a postcard to inform. Three hundred is wanted for the lease, stock, and goodwill, and fifty for the furniture, stable and yard-effects. A bargain, Miss Mellicent, if I only had the money! But as it goes, I’m a hundred and fifty short—unless John Henry’s ear is tingling at this moment with tidings of comfort and joy. Now, what do you mean by lightinga fire as if I wanted coddling, when you’ve a dozen people to look after, if you’ve one?�
Miss Mellicent was down on her knees at the old-fashioned grate, laying a fire. She struck a match and lighted the kindling, and, though it was mid-June, the bright blaze was welcome in the dingy sitting-room, whose window-panes streamed with torrents of rain.
“The gentlemen are all out but the third-floor front,� she said, “and when the rain began, and I thought of you sitting up here in the dim light alone, it seemed as if I might do this much to make things cheerfuller. For you’ve done so much for me ever since I came here�—her red and blackened knuckles went up to her pink-rimmed eyes—“you always done so much for me!�
“For you, my dear soul!� ejaculated Mr. Popham, with circular eyes. “You make too much of things, Miss Mellicent!�
“That’s one of ’em,� cried grateful Mellicent, turning upon him a thin, blushing face down which two tears openly trickled. “You’ve called me ‘Miss Mellicent’ from the first. From the time I came here to Mr. and Mrs. Davis, an orphan, ten years old, in my cheap black frock, made out of the skirt of poor mother’s mourning for poor father, you’ve always called me ‘Miss.’ It helped me, somehow; just as your carrying up the heavy cans of hot water and the coals did.�
“You was a bright-eyed, grateful little mouse, too,� said Mr. Popham retrospectively, “and many’s the time I’ve had it in my mind to speak to Mr. and Mrs. Davis about their driving a little thing like you so hard. They’re past driving now, that’s one comfort! It’s years since I’ve set eyes on either of ’em, now I come to think of it!�
“It’s years!� Mellicent echoed in a slightly bewildered way. “Why of course it would be years!�
“She was a mountain, was the venerable lady, and the old gentleman was a mere lath,� said Mr. Popham meditatively. “He used to answer the letters we wrote year by year, season in and season out, from the family seat at Helsham, from the Engadine, Aix, or Ems, Paris, or the Riviera, to say we were coming on such a day. Ten years ago the writing of the letters changed to a feminine hand—and since then I haven’t seen him.�
“Why—don’t you know—he died?� said Mellicent.
“Did he really?� cried Mr. Popham. “Well, it was like him to keep it so quiet, and like the old lady, too. Reminds me—I haven’t set eyes onherfor a matter of five year and over!�
“Oh dear, Mr. Popham! she’s dead too!� gasped Mellicent in distress.
“She’d be pleased to know how little we’ve missed her, I know,� responded Mr. Popham cheerfully. “Now, quite between ourselves, Miss Mellicent, since for the first time since I’ve known you we’re indulging in a confidential conversation—who’s carrying on the house?�
“Don’t you know? No—you’ve never asked or thought to ask in all these years,� returned Mellicent. “The person who carries on the house is—not quite—but I suppose she would be called so—a lady!�
“And very sensibly she manages,� approved Mr. Popham, “in keeping out of the way and letting you do it for her. And a nice income she makes, I’ll be bound! Why, the house has never been empty since first I come here. Old gentlemen with ample means on every floor, toddling out to their clubs when their various complaints permit, and dining at home—and dining comfortably, too—when they don’t. Such a polish on the boots, sucha crispness of the breakfast bacon, such a flavor about the coffee and the curries, such a tenderness about the joints, such a dryness about the daily newspaper, and such an absence of over-statement about the total of the weekly bill as, with all my experience, I’ve never found elsewhere. And all owing to You! If your modesty allowed you to think over yourself for one moment—which I truly believe you’ve never done since you were born—you’d admit, Miss Mellicent—that you’re a wonder!�
“Oh! do you truly mean it?� she cried, with her heart upon her lips.
“I do,� answered Mr. Popham, with warmth. “And if the present proprietor of the lodgings wasn’t a lady—and knew what was good for him—he’d——�
“Oh no! No, Mr. Popham, sir, no! He wouldn’t. No one could ever think of me in such a way!� Her red and blackened hands went up to the piteous, quivering face, and her lean bosom heaved behind the meager bib of her scorched stuff apron. “Never!�
“Tell me now, upon your honor,� Mr. Popham pressed. “Haven’t you never looked at nobody in that way yourself?�
Miss Mellicent fairly writhed and shuddered with nervousness. But she laughed, looking away from Mr. Popham and into the old-fashioned but handsome glass over the mantelshelf, in which, within an Early Victorian frame of fly-spotted gilding, the reflection of Mr. Popham’s alert, well-featured, respectable profile and her own poor, wistful face appeared together.
“If you won’t ask me no more—yes, then! but he never dreamed o’ me!�
“More shame for him!� asseverated Mr. Popham stoutly. “Why, what a put-upon young woman you are, Miss Mellicent! Since you were ten years old, I doverily believe you’ve never had a pleasure, never had a present, never had a friend, never had an outing—no more than you’ve had a sweetheart.�
“Ah, but,� she cried, with a happy laugh, “I have had a friend! You’ve been my friend, haven’t you? And I have had pleasure in knowing that. And I’ve had an outing—twice. Once Uncle Davis took me to the World’s Fair—it was my twelfth birthday—and once, two years later, you treated me to the pantomime.�
“Did I? And uncommon generous and considerate it was of me, I must say, to have done that much for you, you poor little neglected, lonely creature!� uttered the remorseful Mr. Popham.
“I never forgot it,� Mellicent cried, with beaming eyes. “The glory and the splendor, the living roses and the talking animals and the shining fairies, and you to explain it all and be so kind. I never forgot it! Who could?�
“Why, I’m beginning to remember something about it myself!� said Mr. Popham, clearing. “We partook of a dozen oysters and some shandy-gaff at a fish-bar on the way home. According to present views, we ought to have shaken carbolic powder over that shellfish instead of pepper, and washed it down with Condy’s Fluid; but, being behind the present times, we enjoyed ourselves.�
“Didn’t we!� Mellicent clapped her hands. “I have gone back to that beautiful evening in memory hundreds and hundreds of times! It has helped me through such a lot of hard things—for things are hard sometimes. Sometimes, when you aren’t here, and there isn’t no one to speak to on the stairs, and the gentlemen are over-particular about their boots and changeable about the hours for their meals, things get the better of me to that extent that I scream and run!�
“Scream and run, do you?� said the puzzled Mr. Popham. “And how do you do it? Or do you do it without knowing how, eh?�
“I shriek out loud and hear myself as though my voice came from a long way off,� said Mellicent, opening her large eyes, “and then my feet begin to run. I scream, and I run screaming up to the little top attic I slept in when I came here as a child, where my old rag doll is still, and mother’s patchwork counterpane covers the truckle-bed. And I hide my head in that, and cry myself quiet and patient again!�
“And Lord have mercy on your lonely little soul!� cried Mr. Popham. “Patient you are, and that’s the truth!� He took the knotty red hand and held it in both of his for an instant, looking at the downcast face. “But don’t scream and run any more. It isn’t good for you!�
“I haven’t screamed and runned for quite a long time now,� she answered. “But�—her poor lips trembled—“I think I shall when you are gone for good.�
“Nonsense, nonsense!� Mr. Popham squeezed the red hand and dropped it gently. “I’ll come and see you from time to time.�
“And leave your little country inn?� said Mellicent, trying to smile. “You won’t be able!�
“I could leave the landlady in charge,� suggested Mr. Popham. “Stop, though, a landlady is the kind of article that doesn’t go with the furniture and fixtures. I shall have to look out for her myself.� His face changed. “Upon my word I shall!�
“I know the kind you’ll choose,� sighed Miss Mellicent. “And the best won’t be good enough for you, Mr. Popham. She must be young and fair and plump and rosy and blue-eyed, with golden curls like the FairyQueen in that pantomime, or the lovely dolls I see in the shop windows when I’m out buying meat and groceries for the gentlemen. And her hands must be as white and soft as mine are red and hard. And——�
“Don’t cry, my dear!� begged Mr. Popham. He stooped over her as she hid her flaming cheeks in the hard-worked hands. “You have pretty hair, Miss Mellicent,� he said, with a sensation of surprise at the discovery.
“I’ve been turning out rooms,� she sobbed, “and it’s full of dust!�
“And you’d have a pretty figure,� said Mr. Popham, now embarked upon a career of discovery, “if you took the trouble to pull ’em in. And you’re young—barely thirty—and I’m ten years older. And you’re a first-class double extra A.1. housekeeper, cook, and manager. See here! Give the lady proprietor a month’s notice, and come and be landlady of the Bastling Arms at Helsham!�
“You—you’re not in earnest?�
She faced him, quivering, transfigured, panting.
“Ain’t I?� remarked Mr. Popham simply. “Say ‘Yes,’ Miss Mellicent, give me a kiss, and we shall both begin to believe it. Run and change your dress, and we’ll call a cab and make another evening of it, and if the Alhambra ballet won’t do as well as the pantomime, under the present circumstances, I shall be surprised! There’s John Henry’s knock at the hall-door. He brings good news, or it wouldn’t be such a loud one. It takes the girl ten minutes to get up the kitchen stairs; she’s a born crawler, if ever there was one, and I’ve a fancy I should like you to let the boy in—if you’ve no objection?�
“Oh, no, no!� she cried gladly, and flashed out of the room.
“She’s wonderfully nimble on her feet,� mused Mr. Popham; “and though I’ve never seen ’em to my knowledge, I shouldn’t mind putting a bit on the chance of their being pretty ones. Lord! I seem in for discoveries to-day. Come in, John Henry!�
But it was not John Henry, but the butler from Portland Place.
“Odlett! Well, this is kind; and you with such an objection to getting your feet damp!� Mr. Popham shook the large dough-colored hand of Mr. Odlett until the butler secured the member from further assault by putting it into his pocket.
“The boy was wanted to go upon an errand,� explained Mr. Odlett, in the voice of the description known as rich. “And as a friend!�—his smile creased his large pale cheeks, and caused the temporary disappearance of his small twinkling eyes—“as a friend, no more port being wanted for the party in the library, I thought I’d come and put you out of your misery!�
“That was uncommon kind of you, Odlett!� breathed the acutely-anxious Mr. Popham. He wiped his brow, and fixed an intense gaze on the particular feature from which intelligence might be expected.
“The boy did his duty faithful from first to last,� said Mr. Odlett, selecting a chair and carefully separating his coat-tails as a preliminary to sitting down; “and when he laughed, ’ad the presence of mind to drop his ’ead to the level of the library door mat, consequently it was supposed to be the pug a-sneezing!�
“Well,� gasped Mr. Popham. “Well?�
“The Will come up to our fondest expectations,� continued Mr. Odlett. “Sir George, who never shoots, ’ave the General’s old saloon-pistols and sporting Mantons, andBell’s Lifeand theArmy Gazettefor twenty yearback. Mr. Roderick is left the Chinese and Indian curiosities on condition of his dusting ’em hisself regularly. My Lady ’ave ten pounds to purchase a mourning-ring, provided she’ll undertake to wear it; the young ladies ditto; and the money——�
“The money——� choked Mr. Popham.
“The money, with the exception of several smaller legacies, goes, with the consent of the Mayor and Corporation of Helsham, to purchase and lay out a Public Park for the people in memory of the Testator. There’s to be a mausoleum in the middle of it, in which his crematory urn is to be kep’, and a bandstand at each end, because he always loved to see people cheerful about him. Also, he bequeaths to Miss Mellicent Davis, at his lodgings in Margaret Place, five guineas and a set of ivory chessmen; and to his old and valued friend, William Odlett, which is me, the sum of two hundred pounds. He adds, he hopes I’ll drink myself to death on it, inside of a month; but he always was a playful old gentleman. No—you’re not forgotten!�
Mr. Popham wiped his brow with an air of relief.
“You’re not forgotten—which ought to be a consolation to you!� repeated Mr. Odlett, creasing all over with a vast, comprehensive smile. “You’re to ’ave his walking-sticks, clothes, wigs, the rugs and plaids, and the spare set of teeth, hoping you’ll always have something to employ ’em on. I came over a-purpose to tell you; you’re so fond of a joke, Popham.�
“I don’t deny it,� said the crushed and disappointed Mr. Popham; “but where the humor of this one is, hang me if I know!�
“You’ll see by-and-by,� said Mr. Odlett consolingly. “When you’ve ’ad time to think it over. Meanwhile I’ll stand a couple of whiskies hot. A man don’t come intotwo hundred, cool, every day, and this windfall is particularly welcome. You know Madgell, the landlord of the Bastling Arms at Helsham, is gone over to the majority?�
Mr. Popham nodded a pale face.
“The lease, stock, goodwill, and fixtures of that pleasant little ’ouse is to be ’ad for what I call a song. And I’m going—in a week or so, when I’ve laid my hand secure on this here little legacy—to pop in and settle down. Plummer, the cook, a plump and capable young woman, ’ave expressed her willingness to be the landlady. I did suppose she had had a bit of an understanding with you. But she’s quite come round my way since the reading of the will, and I thought you’d like to know it!�
“You’re uncommon considerate,� said the rasped and tingling Mr. Popham, “but I’ve made arrangements elsewhere.�
“Perhaps the Other One will change her mind when she finds out you’re diddled in your expectations!� said the comforting Mr. Odlett, shaking hands heartily. “Good-night. I shan’t hear of you coming to the door!�
But Mr. Popham did come, and slammed it behind the departing form of Mr. Odlett with great heartiness.
“Damn his wigs and walking-sticks!� he said in the murky passage, “and his spare teeth as well! A nice Job’s comforter, Odlett! ‘Perhaps she’ll change her mind when she knows you’ve been diddled in your expectations.’ Beg pardon, Miss Mellicent, I didn’t see you were there! You’re not hurt, are you?�
“Only by your thinking I could change!� said Miss Mellicent, with a sob.
The ground-floor sitting-room door stood ajar; the room was unoccupied. Mr. Popham led Miss Mellicentin, turned up one of the blackened incandescent gas-jets, and stood petrified at the sight its hissing white glare revealed.
“A gray silk gown, trimmed with real lace, and a gold chain!� cried the bewildered Mr. Popham. “A diamond brooch, as I’m a living sinner! and an opera-mantle and kid gloves and a fan! And your pretty brown hair done up quite tastefully, and your eyes a-shining over the roses in your cheeks! What’s done it? Who’s responsible for it? How did it come about?�
If she had been less shy of him, she would have answered in two words, “Through love!� But she only faltered:
“I’m so glad you think I look a bit nice in them. They—they belonged to poor Aunt Davis, and I’ve had ’em altered to fit. She—she left them to me when she died!�
“And handed over the lodging-house and furniture to the present lady proprietor,� observed Mr. Popham, searching in his trouser pocket for a cab whistle, “whom I don’t happen to know by sight.�
“Oh, yes, you do!� Miss Mellicent’s blush and smile made quite a pretty little face of hers, and Mr. Popham boldly kissed it on the spot. “Oh yes, you do, for she’s me! I should say, I am her! Law bless you, dear Mr. Popham, I didn’t mean to startle you like that! Who cares about your being left a lot of old clothes and wigs instead of a sum of money—though you deserved it, true and faithful as you was to him that’s gone! Haven’t I plenty for both? And landlord of the Bastling Arms you shall be to-morrow, if you’ve set your heart on it! and we shall be late for the beautiful sights at the theater if you don’t whistle for a taxicab.�
“Life is certainly a switchback!� said Mr. Popham, ashe breathed and trilled alternately on the damp doorstep. “Now you’re down a-lookin’ up at your fellow-mortals, and now you’re up, a-lookin’ down upon ’em!... We’ll have a bit of supper at that very fish-bar, if it’s still in existence, on our way home, carefully drawing the line at oysters as risky and uncertain articles of diet for two middle-aged people about to enter upon the duties and privileges of married life!�