CHAPTER SEVEN.
THOUGHTS IN REGARD TO MEN.
Miss Emelina Tippet was a maiden lady of pleasing countenance andexceedingly uncertain age.
She was a poor member of a poor branch of an aristocratic family, andfeeling an unconquerable desire to breathe, if not the pureunadulterated atmosphere of Beverly Square, at least as much of it aswas compatible with a very moderate income, she rented a small house ina very dark and dismal lane leading out of that great centre ofrefinement.
It is true that Beverly Square was not exactly the "West End," but thereare many degrees of West-endiness, so to speak, in the westernneighbourhood of London, and this square was, in the opinion of MissTippet, the West-endiest place she knew, because there dwelt in it, notonly a very genteel and uncommonly rich portion of the community, butseveral of her own aristocratic, though distant, relations, among whomwas Mr Auberly.
The precise distance of the relationship between them had never beendefined, and all records bearing on it having been lost in the mists ofantiquity, it could not now be ascertained; but Miss Tippet laid claimto the relationship, and as she was an obliging, good-humoured, chatty,and musical lady, Mr Auberly admitted the claim.
Miss Tippet's only weakness--for she was indeed a most estimable woman--was a tendency to allow rank and position to weigh too much in heresteem. She had also a sensitive abhorrence of everything "low andvulgar," which would have been, of course, a very proper feeling had shenot fallen into the mistake of considering humble birth lowness, andwant of polish vulgarity--a mistake which is often (sometimes evenwilfully) made by persons who consider themselves much wiser than MissTippet, but who are not wise enough to see a distinct shade of truevulgarity in their own sentiments.
The dark, dismal lane, named Poorthing Lane, besides forming an asylumfor decayed and would-be aristocrats, and a vestibule, as it were, toBeverly Square, was a convenient retreat for sundry green-grocers andpublic-house keepers and small trades-people, who supplied thedensely-peopled surrounding district, and even some of the inhabitantsof Beverly Square itself, with the necessaries of life. It was also athoroughfare for the gay equipages of the square, which passed throughit daily on their way to and from the adjoining stables, therebyendangering the lives of precocious babies who could crawl, but couldnot walk away from home, as well as affording food for criticism andscandal, not to mention the leaving behind of a species of secondhandodour of gentility such as coachmen and footmen can give forth.
Miss Tippet's means being small, she rented a proportionately smallresidence, consisting of two floors, which were the upper portion of ahouse, whose ground floor was a toy-shop. The owner of the toy-shop,David Boone, was Miss Tippet's landlord; but not the owner of thetenement. He rented the whole, and sublet the upper portion. MissTippet's parlour windows commanded a near view of the lodging opposite,into every corner and crevice of which she could have seen, had not thewindows been encrusted with impenetrable dirt. Her own domesticarrangements were concealed from view by small green venetian blinds,which rose from below, and met the large venetians which descended fromabove. The good lady's bedroom windows in the upper floor commanded anear view--much too near--of a stack of chimneys, between which andanother stack, farther over, she had a glimpse of part of the gable endof a house, and the topmost bough of a tree in Beverly Square. It wasthis prospect into paradise, terrestrially speaking, that influencedMiss Tippet in the choice of her abode.
When William Willders reached the small door of Number 6, PoorthingLane, and raised his hand to knock, the said door opened as if it hadbeen trained to admit visitors of its own accord, and Miss Matty Merryonissued forth, followed by a bright blue-eyed girl of about twelve yearsof age.
"Well, boy, was ye comin' here?" inquired Matty, as the lad steppedaside to let them pass.
"Yes, I was. Does Miss Tippet live here?"
"She does, boy, what d'ye want with her?"
"I want to see her, young 'ooman, so you'd better cut away up an' tellher a gen'lm'n requests a few words private conversation with her."
The little girl laughed at this speech, and Matty, addressing Willie asa "dirty spalpeen," said he had better go with her to a shop first, andshe'd then take him back and introduce him to Miss Tippet.
"You see I can't let ye in all be yer lone, cushla; for what would theneighbours say, you know! I'm only goin' to the toy-shop, an' won'tkape ye a minit, for Miss Emma don't take long to her bargains."
Willie might probably have demurred to this delay; but on hearing thatthe blue-eyed girl wanted to make purchases, he at once agreed to theproposal, and followed them into the toy-shop.
David Boone, who stepped out of the back-shop to serve them, was, if wemay say so, very unlike his trade. A grave, tall, long-legged,long-nosed, raw-boned, melancholy-looking creature such as he, mighthave been an undertaker, or a mute, or a sexton, or a policeman, or ahorse-guardsman, or even a lawyer; but it was the height of improprietyto have made him a toy-shopman, and whoever did it had no notionwhatever of the fitness of things. One could not resist the idea thathis clumsy legs would certainly upset the slender wooden toys with whichthe floor and counters were covered, and his fingers seemed made tobreak things. The figure of Punch which hung from the ceiling appearedinclined to hit him as he passed to and fro, and the pretty little dollswith the sweet pink faces, and very flaxen hair and cerulean eyes wereevidently laughing at him.
Nevertheless, David Boone was a kind-hearted man, very fond of children,and extremely unlike, in some respects, what people imagined him atfirst sight to be.
"Well, Miss Ward, what can I supply you with to-day?" said he blandly.
"Please, Mr Boone, I want a slate and a piece of slate-pencil." Emmalooked up with a sweet smile at the tall shopman, who looked down uponher with grave benignity, as he produced the articles required.
"D'you kape turpentine?" said Matty, as they were about to quit theshop.
Boone started, and said almost testily, "No, I _don't_. Why do youask?"
"Sure, there's no sin in askin'," replied Matty in surprise at the man'schanged manner.
"Of course--of course not," rejoined Boone with a slight look ofconfusion, as he made a sudden assault with his pocket-handkerchief onthe cat, which was sleeping innocently in the window; "git out o' that,you brute; you're always agoin' in the winder, capsizin' things. There!you've been an' sat on the face o' that 'ere wax doll till you've a'mostmelted it. Out o' that with you! No, Miss Merryon," he added, turningto the girl with his wonted urbanity, "I don't keep turpentine, and Iwas only surprised you should ask for it in a toy-shop; but you'll getit of Mr White next door. I don't believe there's anythink in theworld as he can't supply to his customers."
David Boone bowed them out, and then re-entered the back-shop, shakinghis head slowly from side to side.
"I don't like it--I don't even like to think of it, Gorman," he said toa big low-browed man who sat smoking his pipe beside the littlefireplace, the fire in which was so small that its smoke scarcelyequalled in volume that of the pipe he smoked: "No, I _don't_ like it,and I _won't do it_."
"Well, well, you can please yourself," said Gorman, knocking the ashesout of his pipe, and placing it in his vest pocket as he rose andbuttoned his thick pea-jacket up to the chin; "but I'll tell you what itis, if you _are_ a descendant of the hunter of the far west that youboast so much about, it's precious little of his pluck that you've got;an' so I tell 'ee to your face, David Boone. All I've got to say is,that you'd better be wise and take my advice, and think better of it."
So saying, Gorman went out, and slammed the door after him.
Meanwhile, Miss Matty Merryon, having purchased a small phial ofturpentine, returned to Number 6, and ushered Willie Willders into thepresence of her mistress.
Miss Emelina Tippet was neither tall nor stiff, nor angular nor bony; onthe contrary, she was little and plump, and not bad-looking. And peopleoften wondered why Miss Tippet _was_ Miss Tippet and was not MrsSomebody-else. Wh
atever the reason was, Miss Tippet never divulged it,so we won't speculate about it here.
"A note, boy, from Mr Auberly?" exclaimed Miss Tippet, with a beamingsmile; "give it me--thank you."
She opened it and read attentively, while Master Willie glanced roundthe parlour and took mental notes. Miss Emma Ward sat down on a stoolin the window, ostensibly to "do sums," but really to draw faces, all ofwhich bore a strong caricatured resemblance to Willie, at whom sheglanced slyly over the top of her slate.
Matty remained standing at the door to hear what the note was about.She did not pretend to busy herself about anything. There was nosubterfuge in Matty. She had been Miss Tippet's confidential servantbefore entering the service of Mr Auberly, and her extremely short stayin Beverly Square had not altered that condition. She had come to feelthat she had a right to know all Miss Tippet's affairs, and so waitedfor information.
"Ah!" exclaimed Miss Tippet, still reading, "yes; `get him a situationin your brother's office,' (oh, certainly, I'll be sure to get that);`he seems smart, I might almost say impu--' Ahem! Yes, well--."
"Boy," said Miss Tippet, turning suddenly to Willie, "your name isWilliam Willders, I believe?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Well, William, Mr Auberly, my relative, asks me to get you into mybrother's--my brother's, what's 'is name--office. Of course, I shall behappy to try. I am always extremely happy to do anything for--yes, Isuppose of course you can write, and, what d'ye call it--count--you cando arithmetic?"
"Yes, ma'am," replied Willie.
"And you can spell--eh? I hope you can _spell_, Edward, a--I meanThomas--is it, or William?"
Miss Tippet looked at Willie so earnestly and put this question in tonesso solemn that he was much impressed, and felt as if all his earthlyhopes hung on his reply, so he admitted that he could spell.
"Good," continued Miss Tippet. "You are, I suppose, in rather poorcircumstances. Is your father poor?"
"He's dead, ma'am; was drowned."
"Oh! shocking, that's very sad. Was your mother drowned, too?"
"No, ma'am, she's alive and well--at least she's well for _her_, but shean't over strong. That's why I want to get work, that I may help her;and she wants me to be a clerk in a office, but I'd rather be a fireman.You couldn't make me a fireman, could you, ma'am?"
At this point Willie caught Miss Ward gazing intently at him over thetop of her slate, so he threw her into violent confusion by winking ather.
"No, boy, I can't make you a fireman. Strange wish--why d'you want tobe one?"
"'Cause it's such jolly fun," replied Willie; with real enthusiasm,"reg'lar bangin' crashin' sort o' work--as good as fightin' any day!An' my brother Frank's a fireman. Such a one, too, you've no notion;six fut four he is, an' as strong as--oh, why, ma'am, he could take youup in one hand, ma'am, an' twirl you round his head like an old hat! Hewas at the fire in Beverly Square last night."
This speech was delivered with such vehemence, contained so manyobjectionable sentiments, and involved such a dreadful supposition inregard to the treatment of Miss Tippet's person, that the worthy ladywas shocked beyond all expression. The concluding sentence, however,diverted her thoughts.
"Ah! was he indeed at that sad fire, and did he help to put it out?"
"Sure, an' he did more than that," exclaimed Matty, regarding the boywith sudden interest. "If that was yer brother that saved Miss Loo he'sa ra'al man--"
"Saved Loo!" cried Miss Tippet; "was it _your_ brother that saved Loo?"
"Yes, ma'am, it was."
"Bless him; he is a noble fellow, and I have great pleasure in takingyou by the hand for his sake."
Miss Tippet suited the action to the word, and seized Willie's hand,which she squeezed warmly. Matty Merryon, with tears in her eyes,embraced him, and said that she only wished she had the chance ofembracing his brother, too. Then they all said he must stay to lunch,as it was about lunchtime, and Miss Tippet added that he deserved tohave been born in a higher position in life--at least his brother did,which was the same thing, for he was a true what's-'is-name, who oughtto be crowned with thingumyjigs.
Emma, who had latterly been looking at Willie with deepening respect,immediately crowned him with laurels on the slate, and then Matty rushedaway for the lunch-tray--rejoicing in the fire, that had sent her backso soon to the old mistress whom she never wanted to leave; that hadafforded scope for the display of such heroism, and had brought aboutaltogether such an agreeable state of unwonted excitation.
Just as the party were on the point of sitting down to luncheon, thestreet-door knocker was applied to the door with an extremely firmtouch.
"Miss Deemas!" exclaimed Miss Tippet. "Oh! I'm _so_ glad. Rush,Matty."
Matty rushed, and immediately there was a sound on the wooden passage asof a gentleman with heavy boots. A moment later, and Matty ushered in avery tall, broad-shouldered, strapping lady; if we may venture to usethat expression in reference to one of the fair sex.
Miss Deemas was a sort of human eagle. She had an eagle eye, anaquiline nose, an eagle flounce, and an eagle heart. Going up to MissTippet, she put a hand on each of her shoulders, and stooping down,pecked her, so to speak, on each cheek.
"How are you, my dear?" said Miss Deemas, not by any means tenderly; butmuch in the tone in which one would expect to have one's money or one'slife demanded.
"Quite well, dear Julia, and _so_ glad to see you. It is _so_ good ofyou to take me by surprise this way; just at lunch-time, too. Anotherplate and knife, Matty. This is a little boy--a friend--not exactly afriend, but a--a thingumy, you know."
"No, I _don't_ know, Emelina, what is the precise `thingumy' you referto this time," said the uncompromising and matter-of-fact Miss Deemas.
"You're _so_ particular, dear Julia," replied Miss Tippet with a littlesigh; "a what's-'is-n-, a _protege_, you know."
"Indeed," said Miss Deemas, regarding Willie with a severe frown, as ifin her estimation all _proteges_ were necessarily villains.
"Yes, dear Julia, and, would you believe it, that this boy'sbrother-in-law--"
"Brother, ma'am," interrupted Willie.
"Yes, brother, actually saved my darling's life last night, at the--thething in Beverly Square."
"What `darling's life,' and what `thing' in Beverly Square?" demandedMiss Deemas.
"What! have you not heard of the fire last night in Beverly Square--myrelative, James Auberly--living there with his family--all burnt toashes--and my sweet Loo, too? A what's-'is-name was brought, and abrave fireman went up it, through fire and water and smoke. YoungAuberly went up before him and fell--heat and suffocation--and saved herin his arms, and his name is Frank, and he's this boy's brother-in-law!"
To this brief summary, given with much excitement, Miss Deemas listenedwith quiet composure, and then said with grim sarcasm, and very slowly:
"Let me see; there was a fire in Beverly Square last night, and JamesAuberly, living there with his family, were all burned to ashes."
Miss Tippet here interrupted with, "No, no;" but her stern friendimposing silence, with an eagle look, continued:
"All burned to ashes, and also your sweet Loo. A `what's-his-name'having been brought, a brave fireman goes up it, and apparently nevercomes down again (burned to ashes also, I fancy); but young Auberly, whowent up before him, and fell--heat and suffocation being the result--saved some one named `her' in his arms; his name being Frank (owing nodoubt to his having been re-baptised, for ever since I knew him he hasbeen named Frederick), and he is this boy's brother-in-law!"
By way of putting an extremely fine point on her sarcasm, Miss Deemasturned to Willie, with a very condescending air, and said:
"Pray, when did your sister marry Mr Frederick Auberly?"
Willie, with a face of meekness, that can only be likened to that of ayoung turtle-dove, replied:
"Please, ma'am, it isn't my sister as has married Mr Auberly; but it'smy brother, Frank Willders, as hopes to marry Miss Loo Auberly, onac
count o' havin' saved her life, w'en she comes of age, ma'am."
Miss Deemas stood aghast, or rather sat aghast, on receiving this reply,and scanned Willie's face with one of her most eagle glances; but thatsmall piece of impudence wore an expression of weak good-nature, andwinked its eyes with the humility of a subdued pup, while Miss Tippetlooked half-horrified and half-amused; Matty grinned, and Emma squeakedthrough her nose.
"Boy," said Miss Deemas severely, "your looks belie you."
"Yes, ma'am," answered Willie, "my mother always said I wasn't half sobad as I looked; and she's aware that I'm absent from home."
At this point Willie allowed a gleam of intelligence to shoot across hisface, and he winked to Emma, who thereupon went into private convulsionsin her handkerchief.
"Emelina," said Miss Deemas solemnly, "let me warn you against that boy.He is a bad specimen of a bad sex. He is a precocious type of thatbase, domineering, proud and perfidious creature that calls itself `lordof creation,' and which, in virtue of its superior physical power, takesup every position in life worth having," ("except that of wife andmother," meekly suggested Miss Tippet), "_worth having_" (repeated theeagle sternly, as if the position of wife and mother were _not_ worthhaving), "worth having, and leaves nothing for poor weak-bodied, thoughnot weak-minded woman to do, except sew and teach brats. Bah! I hatemen, and they hate _me_, I know it, and I would not have it otherwise.I wish they had never been made. I wish there had been none in theworld but women. What a blessed world it would have been _then_!"
Miss Deemas hit the table with her hand, in a masculine manner, soforcibly, that the plates and glasses rattled, then she resumed, for shewas now on a favourite theme, and was delivering a lecture to a selectaudience.
"But, mark you, _I'm_ not going to be put down by men. I mean to fight'em with their own weapons. I mean to--"
She paused suddenly at this point, and, descending from her platform,advised Miss Tippet to dismiss the boy at once.
Poor Miss Tippet prepared to do so. She was completely under the powerof Miss Deemas, whom, strange to say, she loved dearly. She reallybelieved that they agreed with each other on most points, although itwas quite evident that they were utterly opposed to each other ineverything. Wherein the bond lay no philosopher could discover.Possibly it lay in the fact that they were absolute extremes, and, inverification of the proverb, had met.
Be this as it may, a note was quickly written to her brother, ThomasTippet, Esquire, which was delivered to Willie, with orders to take itthe following evening to London Bridge, in the neighbourhood of whichMr Tippet dwelt and carried on his business.
Fighting the Flames Page 7
