CHAPTER XVIII
Gipsy at Large
AND where, all this time, was Gipsy, whom we left running down the roadin the direction of Greyfield?
She tore along at the top of her speed, until she had put a considerabledistance between herself and Briarcroft; then, panting and almostbreathless, she slackened her pace, and looked round to see whetheranyone was following her. As nobody of a more suspicious character thanan errand boy and a nurse girl with a perambulator was in sight, shebegan to congratulate herself that she had escaped unobserved. How soonher absence would be discovered depended upon when Miss Poppleton or oneof the monitresses next paid a visit to the dressing-room; and shelaughed to picture the consternation that would ensue when the door wasunlocked and her prison found to be vacant. No doubt they would send insearch of her, but in the meantime she had stolen a march upon them, andgiven herself the advantage of a start, so she hoped by using allpossible haste to get away before she was traced.
As she strode rapidly along, all her old vagabond instincts arose, andthe gipsy element which had justified her name came strongly to thefore. It was a delightful, mild afternoon, with blue sky and brightsunshine; the gardens on either side of the road were gay with pinkhawthorn and long, drooping sprays of laburnum, while blackbirds,thrushes, chaffinches, and tits were singing in a perfect chorus of joy.It felt so glorious to be as free as the birds, to be rid of all thetiresome rules and restrictions and conventions that had oppressed hersoul for the last eight months, to be accountable to nobody but herself,and to be able to do just what she chose and go where she liked. Schoolseemed as a nightmare behind her, and the world a fresh wonderland whichit was her happy privilege to have the chance to explore.
"I'll never go back again--never!" she resolved. "Not if I have to sweepa crossing or sell flowers! But I don't think it will come to that,because I'm sure I can get a post on board ship. Oh, what a blissfulrelief it is to be on my own for once! I've made up my mind to find Dad,if I have to go to the ends of the earth to hunt for him."
In the exuberance of her spirits she almost danced along, humming nowSchubert's "Wander Song", with its ringing refrain:
"Oh! surely he must careless be, Who never loved to wander free, To wander! To wander!"
or "The Miller of Dee", with special emphasis on the words:
"I care for nobody, no, not I! And nobody cares for me."
The sight of the town of Greyfield, with its streets and shops, changedthe current of her thoughts, and brought the more sober reflection thatshe had no money in her pocket, and that it was a matter of urgentnecessity to obtain some if she meant to reach Liverpool and start forSouth Africa. The fare, she knew, was about seven shillings, and thoughshe hoped to be able to embark on board ship almost immediately afterher arrival at the port, she supposed she would require something in theway of food on the journey. It went to her heart to be obliged to sellher beautiful gold watch, but in the circumstances it seemed the onlything to be done, and she braced her mind to part with it. She had noprevious experience of selling things, so, choosing out the bestjeweller's shop in the High Street, she marched blithely in, and takingoff her watch and chain laid them upon the counter.
"Yes, Miss; want repairing, I suppose?" enquired the assistant who cameto attend to her.
"No, they're in perfectly good order; but I wish to sell them. Whatprice can you give me for them?" returned Gipsy confidently.
The man looked at her in decided astonishment, then pushed back thewatch across the counter with a marked decrease of civility.
"We don't do that kind of business," he replied shortly.
"Won't you buy it then?" asked Gipsy in accents of blank disappointment.
"No; it's not in our line at all."
"Then where should I be able to sell it?"
"I couldn't say; probably at a secondhand shop. We only deal in newarticles."
Very much disconcerted and snubbed, Gipsy snatched up her watch andchain and fled from the shop. She had evidently made a mistake inapplying at a first-class jeweller's, and she was angry at havingexposed herself to the humiliation of a rebuff. With two flaming spotsin her cheeks, she stalked down the High Street, and into one of thenarrower and more modest by-streets, where smaller shops were to befound. She walked on for quite a long way without meeting with any placethat looked in the least degree likely; then at last, at the corner ofan even humbler street still, she found a secondhand furniture dealer,who, to judge by the contents of his windows, seemed also to trade in avariety of miscellaneous articles. On the pavement in front of the shopwere spread forth specimens of chairs, tables, and washstands, andinside she could see a goodly array of glass, antique china, oldjewellery, old silver, prints, pictures, books, candlesticks, firearms,and an assortment of small pieces of bric-a-brac. Over the door was thename of Daniel Lucas.
"This looks more the kind of place," she murmured. "I'll have a tryhere, at any rate."
The interior of the shop was so crowded with furniture that it was quitedifficult to walk between the piled-up sideboards and sofas to thecorner where a very dirty and shabby-looking individual, with untidygrey hair and unshaven chin, was busy adding up accounts. He paused witha grimy finger in the middle of a column of figures, and peered at Gipsywith a pair of red, bleary eyes.
"HE PAUSED AND PEERED AT GIPSY"]
"I see you sell secondhand jewellery here, and want to know if you careto buy a watch," she began, with rather less assurance than at herformer interview.
"It depends on the article. Have you brought it with you?" replied theold man cautiously.
"It's real gold, and so is the chain," volunteered Gipsy, as sheproduced her treasure.
Mr. Daniel Lucas examined both watch and chain with minute care, thenshook his head deprecatingly.
"I'm afraid it wouldn't be of much use to me. You see, it's not exactlyin the nature of an antique," he replied.
Gipsy's face fell. To get the money for her journey was a matter ofvital importance.
"Couldn't you offer me anything for it?" she pleaded.
The bleary red eyes glanced at her keenly, and appeared to appreciateher disappointment.
"Well, to oblige you, I might go to a matter of seven and six."
"Couldn't you possibly make it ten shillings, with the chain?" hazardedGipsy. She had no idea of the value of secondhand articles, and thoughtonly of what amount would take her to Liverpool.
"All right--with the chain. But it's a poor bargain for me, mind you.I'm only doing it just to oblige you," returned Mr. Lucas, opening adrawer and counting out four half-crowns with an alacrity that beliedhis words. Thankful to have concluded the transaction on any terms,Gipsy seized the money and beat a hasty retreat. She was extremelyanxious to reach the station before Miss Poppleton missed her and sentsomebody in search of her. She had no idea of the times of thetrains, but trusted to luck to catch the next that would take heranywhere in the right direction. With her four precious half-crownsgrasped tightly in her hand, she hurried back up the sordid street, andtook the shortest cut possible to the railway station. There was quite acrowd at the booking office, so she was able to take her place in thequeue of prospective travellers and to obtain her ticket withoutattracting any special attention.
"Liverpool?" said the inspector who stood at the platform door. "You'vejust time if you're quick. That's the train over there on No. 3."
Gipsy fled across the bridge with a speed that seriously interfered withthe convenience of passengers coming in the opposite direction; sherattled down the steps on to Platform 3, and, nearly falling over a pileof luggage, flung herself into the first third-class compartment thatcame to hand.
"Am I right for Liverpool?" she gasped tremulously to the collector whocame to punch her ticket.
"Quite right, Miss; change at Preston, that's all," replied the man ashe slammed the door.
The porters were thrusting some boxes into the luggage van, and a fewlatecomers ma
de a last dash for carriages; then the green flag waved,the whistle sounded, and the train started with a jerk. Gipsy, hot,excited, and agitated, drew a long, long breath of relief. She wasactually off! They were speeding fast out of the station, and she wasleaving Greyfield and Briarcroft, and all the painful experiences of thelast few months, entirely behind her. She could hardly believe her goodluck in thus slipping away unobserved. True, she had only a half-crownand two pennies left after paying her fare, but she supposed that wouldbe enough to last her until she could go on board a vessel. Surelychance had favoured her in enabling her to reach the station in the nickof time to catch the train, and no doubt she would be equally fortunatewhen she reached Liverpool. Her fellow passengers were uninteresting,and she had no desire to talk to anyone and confide her affairs, so sheamused herself with her own thoughts and plans for the future. AtPreston she changed, and bought a bun at the refreshment rooms; herdinner had been almost untasted, and she was growing hungry now. Itseemed funny to have absolutely no luggage, though in one respect it wasa great convenience not to be obliged to haul about a heavy handbag, orto tip a porter out of her extremely small capital.
"I feel almost as if I'd been shipwrecked again--in a borrowed dress andhat, and nothing else to call my own!" she thought with a smile.
It was half-past six before the train arrived at the big Liverpoolterminus--rather late in the day to begin all the numerous enquirieswhich Gipsy was determined to make; but, nothing daunted, she set out atonce for Waterloo, to try to find the residence of her old friendCaptain Smith. She was directed by a policeman to take an overheadelectric car, and travelled several miles above what seemed a wildernessof streets before she reached the suburb in question. Not knowing whereto make a beginning, she decided to go first to a post office, thinkingthat there she might be able to gain the information she wanted. Shehad somehow imagined Waterloo to be quite a little place, where bydiligent enquiry it would be fairly easy to trace such an importantperson as a sea captain who had been wrecked in the Bay of Biscay;greatly to her dismay, however, she found herself in the midst of whatseemed a large city in itself--a veritable maze of long streets andsmall houses, stretching away into the distance with an endless vista ofchimneypots. In a distinctly sober frame of mind she entered the postoffice and proffered her question.
"Smith? I couldn't tell you, I'm sure; there are so many Smiths," saidthe girl at the counter, with a superior smile. "One of them may be asea captain, for anything I know. You'd better look in the Directory."
Gipsy seized upon the book with a sense of relief, and carried it off toa less busy part of the office. She turned up Waterloo, found the listof residents, and went through them in alphabetical order till shereached the letter S. She was appalled to see the number of Smiths whoresided at Waterloo. To some of the names the Directory had appended anoccupation, but with many it gave no details. Taking one of thetelegraph forms she wrote down the addresses of about a dozen Smithswho, she considered, might be likely; then, returning the Directory tothe girl at the counter, she started off on her arduous quest.
"I shall go to 'Ocean Villa' first," she thought. "It has a particularlynautical sound. I shouldn't think anybody but a sea captain couldpossibly live there. 'The Anchorage' sounds hopeful too, though itought to be the home of somebody who is retired. 'Sea View Cottage' isdoubtful, but 'Teneriffe House' is likely. The _Queen of the Waves_ usedto touch sometimes at Teneriffe. Oh, dear! the trouble will be to huntout where they all are."
Poor Gipsy had indeed undertaken a most difficult task. She was obligedto ask her way again and again, and when at length she arrived at "OceanVilla" it was only to meet with the information that nobody of aseafaring description was known there. Much disappointed, she trudgedaway in an opposite direction to find "The Anchorage", and after walkinghalf a mile or more in search of it, was again confronted with illsuccess. At "Sea View Cottage" and "Teneriffe House" she fared nobetter; the occupiers, albeit they belonged to the great family ofSmiths, had no connection whatever with the sea: and though she went toseveral other addresses on her list, the answer was invariably the same.
Utterly tired out, weary and despondent, Gipsy retraced her steps in thedirection of the post office. Having parted with her watch, she had noidea of the time, but catching sight of a clock in a public building,she was horrified to find it was nearly a quarter to nine. The days atthat season of the year were long, and this particular evening had beenmore than usually light; moreover, she had been entirely preoccupiedwith her quest, so she had never given a thought to the rapidly passinghours. For the first time the question of where she must sleep presenteditself to her.
"I must get back to Liverpool," she thought, "and apply at one of theshipping offices. The docks aren't very far away, so I can get engagedas stewardess and go on board some ship at once, I expect."
But in the meantime a meal was an urgent necessity. She was sick andfaint from want of food, and felt as if her tired feet could scarcelycarry her farther. Seeing a modest confectioner's shop with a notice"Teas Provided", she went in and asked for some refreshment. Theproprietress, a little elderly woman, struck partly by the weary look onher face, and partly by the unusual circumstance of a girl of her agecoming into the shop alone to ask for tea at so late an hour, took herinto a small parlour, and while laying the table and bringing in themeal, insinuated a few skilful questions as to where she was going.Gipsy had decided to pose as a working girl, so she answered readilyenough that she was on her way to Liverpool, to find a post as assistantstewardess; and she wished to be very quick over her tea, so that shemight go at once to the shipping offices, procure an engagement, andproceed at once to her vessel.
The expression on the woman's face changed from curiosity to sympathy,and then to utter consternation, as Gipsy briefly stated her intentions.
"But my goodness gracious! You'll never get a situation at this time ofnight!" she broke out. "Why, don't you know all the offices close athalf-past five?"
Gipsy had not known, and the news struck her like a deadly blow.
"The offices all closed! Do you mean to say I can't get on board shipto-night?" she gasped. "Then where in the world am I to go?"
The woman shook her head dubiously.
"Best go back where you've come from," she remarked.
"I can't! I can't!" cried Gipsy. "That's absolutely impossible. Oh! whydidn't I know of this before? What shall I do? What shall I do?" andspringing up excitedly from the table, she burst into a flood of tears.For the first time she realized what an extremely rash thing she haddone in running away, and in what a terrible position she had placedherself. Alone, friendless, and nearly penniless, in the midst of agreat, strange city, with no one who knew her, nowhere to go, and thelight already fading so fast that it was dark in the little parlour! Shehad acted almost on the spur of the moment in leaving Briarcroft,without seriously considering whether her plans were practicable, andnow she was reaping the bitter harvest of her own folly. She beganheartily to wish herself back at school; even Miss Poppleton's severestscolding was as nothing to the misery of this present crisis, and sheyearned for the sight of Miss Edith with a longing that amounted tohome-sickness. Wishing and regretting, however, would not help her inthe least. She must find some way out of her difficulty, and thatpromptly.
"I've only one and ninepence left," she faltered. "And out of that Ihave to pay for my tea and keep a few pennies to go back into Liverpoolwith by the car. Could I get a night's lodging anywhere very cheaply? Doyou know of a clean place?"
"Better not try cheap lodgings!" said the woman emphatically. "Can't yougo home again? No? That's a bad lookout." Then, noticing the utteragony in Gipsy's face, she added: "Well, I'd be sorry to turn a younggirl like you out alone at this time of night. I'll let you sleep on thesofa here, if you can manage, and you can get on to Liverpool firstthing in the morning."
Manage? Gipsy would have slept on the floor, instead of the sofa, ifrequired. She was only too thankful to be allowed to stay, and wasalmo
st ready to hug the little confectioner with gratitude. She was soutterly wearied that she was glad to lie down at once in the parlour,and even before the tea-things were removed from the table she had sunkinto a sleep of absolute exhaustion. Her hostess scanned her facenarrowly, took in the details of her dress, and examined her school hatwith attention, then shook her head.
"Doesn't look much in the stewardess line of business," she muttered."There's something wrong here, I'm afraid. I'll have a talk with herto-morrow." Then she locked the parlour door carefully before she wentback to the shop.
Gipsy slept straight on until eight o'clock the next morning, when shewas aroused by her landlady, who brought her a cup of tea and a piece ofthick bread and butter.
"If you'll take the advice of one who knows more of the world than you,"said the woman, "you'll go back home as fast as you can. Your own folksare the best to look after you. If you've spent all your money, they'dhelp you at the police station. They'll always send a girl back to herfriends." Then, leaving Gipsy to digest her remarks while eating herbreakfast, she went to perform household tasks.
The last hint put Gipsy in a panic. With her long night's rest herspirits had revived, and her courage returned. The idea of seeking herfather in South Africa appeared once more attractive, and she had nowish to be taken charge of by the police and ignominiously packed backto school. She wondered whether the little confectioner had already goneto inform a constable of her whereabouts. She could and would not allowherself to be thus treated. Hurriedly finishing the tea and bread andbutter, she laid all her money, with the exception of sixpence, on thetable, and finding the shop door already open, made her escape into thestreet. It felt almost like running away a second time, and she wassorry not to have said "Thank you!" for her night's lodging, but sheconsidered the emergency to be critical, and was glad when she turnedthe corner and was out of sight of the shop. She made her way as fast aspossible to the electric railway, and took the first car for Liverpool,determined not to waste any further time in looking for Captain Smith atWaterloo, but to try her utmost to obtain a berth as stewardess. By dintof diligent asking, she managed to find the quarters of one of theshipping companies that ran a line of steamers to South Africa, andafter toiling up a long flight of stairs she boldly entered the office,and stated her business to an astonished clerk. He gave her onecomprehensive glance, screwed up his mouth, and most impolitelywhistled.
"Whew! You're rather juvenile for the job, ain't you?" he askedfacetiously. "Ever been on the sea before? 'Tisn't nice when it's rough,I can tell you."
"I'm older than I look," returned Gipsy with dignity, suddenlyremembering, however, to her confusion, that she had forgotten to buy abox of hairpins and turn up her hair. "That's to say, I'm quite oldenough to be very useful on board ship, and I know all about longvoyages. I'd like to speak to the head of the office."
"I dare say you would! But he's not here yet--never comes down till tenor half-past, and I don't believe he'd see you, either. We're notwanting any stewardesses at present--leastways, those we engage have tobe on the wrong side of thirty."
"I'll wait and see the head of the office," announced Gipsy firmly.
"Well! Of all the cheek--!"
But at that moment the telephone bell rang violently in an inner room,and the clerk fled to the instrument. After a few minutes he returned,and with a complete change in his manner asked Gipsy to take a seat.
"The Chief will be here before long," he said affably. "If you don'tmind waiting a little, I can promise it will be to your advantage."
Gipsy sat down on one of the office chairs, and amused herself for aboutthe space of ten minutes in studying the shipping advertisements thatwere hung round the walls. She turned eagerly at last when a footstepwas heard upon the staircase. Was it the manager of the Tower Line, shewondered, and would he after all be willing to engage her for the workshe desired? Her heart beat and throbbed as the door swung open. Butinstead of a stranger appeared the familiar figure of her friend Meg'sfather.
"Gipsy! Gipsy!" cried Mr. Gordon reproachfully. "Thank Heaven I've foundyou! Come along with me at once, child! We must go straight back toGreyfield by the next express."
The Leader of the Lower School: A Tale of School Life Page 21
