CHAPTER XIV.
My leg, "my best leg," as poor Beau Brummell used to say, has beenhurting rather, for the last week or two. I do not know how Palestrinahas discovered this, but the dear little woman is looking harassed andanxious, and she is trying to inveigle me into going up to Londonagain, to get further advice from my doctor. She has broached thesubject in several ways. There is a play going on at present which shewould much like to see, if I will be kind enough to take her to Londonfor a couple of days. Or there is some shopping which she wants to do,and she must have my advice on the subject. I believe that she doesnot like to allow, even to herself, that I ought to go expressly to seethe surgeon, but she means to throw out the suggestion when we shall bein town together, and in this way she has decided, with her usualthoughtfulness, to spare me the anticipation of hearing that I am notgoing on as well as I ought to be doing. It is, however, much too hotto think of going up to London, so for the present none of Palestrina'sdeep-laid plans have been successful. It is broiling hot weather evendown here in the country, but the mornings are cool and fresh, and,after tossing about half the night, I generally get up and go for afeeble sort of walk before breakfast. It is extraordinary how new andfresh the world feels in the early morning, while the dew is still onthe grass, and the birds are singing without any fear that theirconcert will be stopped or disturbed by passers-by.
On my way home this morning I passed the Jamiesons' little house, andwas hailed to come in by the flutter of nearly a dozen dinner-napkinswaved to me from the window of the breakfast-room. It is impossible topass Belmont without being asked to come in, or to leave the hospitablelittle house without an invitation to stay longer. Monday--this wasMonday--is what the Jamiesons call "one of our busiest mornings," and Ithink that our good friends talk almost more than usual on the days onwhich they are most engaged.
As I entered the room, two of The Family had already finishedbreakfast, and were busy at a side-table, driving theirsewing-machines. The whirring noise, added to the amount of talkingthat was going on, had rather a bewildering effect at first. Therewas, besides, the added confusion attendant upon what is known as"getting George off." The process seems to consist of shaking Georgeinto his City coat, brushing it, patting him on the back, telling himhow nice he looks, hoping he will get down in the middle of the week,or at least not later than Friday afternoon, and giving him messagesand remembrances to quite half a dozen friends in London. The Familychorus as I entered was something like this:--
"Cream or sugar, weak or strong?"
"Mettie, did you get your letters?"
"Eliza, which is your napkin-ring?"
"Please say what you will have; I have asked you at least half a dozentimes."
"Do you mind the window open?"
"Does any one hear the bus?"
"Toast or rolls?"
"Which is your napkin-ring?"
"Did any one hear the rain last night?"
"You haven't said yet if you will have an egg."
"Mother is not well, and is not coming down this morning."
"Does any one mind if we go on with our machines?"
Over and above this, snatches of newspaper were read, and numerousdirections were given to a very young servant as to how things shouldbe placed upon the table--a proceeding which usually goes on at everyone of the Jamiesons' meals. It is known as "training one of ourvillage girls."
Gracie and Eliza were the two who sat at the side-table before theirwhirring sewing-machines, their very spectacles nearly darting fromtheir heads with energy and speed. George said, "I wish one of yougirls would mend my glove before I start;" and Gracie said, "Give it tome; I can spare five minutes off lunch-time to get this finished."
Margaret remarked, "Mamma seems very much out of spirits to-day, and Ithink one of us ought to go and play draughts with her."
Eliza took out her watch. "I can play draughts for thirty-fiveminutes," she remarked--"from eleven-five to eleven-forty--and thenGracie must take my place, as Margaret will be baking, and I have thesoup-kitchen accounts to make up."
"I did not anticipate draughts this morning," said poor Gracie. "Imust just get this done when I go to bed." This is the last refuge ofthe overdriven, and one which is so frequently alluded to by theJamiesons that I often fear they deny themselves the proper amount ofsleep.
George here kissed each of his sisters in turn, and ran upstairs to saygood-bye to his mother, while the omnibus waited at the gate.
Maud, who was trimming hats for the whole family, and who wassurrounded by a curious medley of ribbons and finery, said: "What aboutthe Church Council work? I am afraid we have forgotten it."
"That's my business," said Gracie tragically; "and I must give thisup;" and she stopped her sewing-machine, and rolled the purple cottonpinafore into a tight ball and placed it on the table.
"Dear Gracie," said Margaret, "could I not do it? I could get it inbetween the Kaffirs and my baking."
"I would offer to do it," said Eliza, with that affectionatehelpfulness which distinguishes The Family, "only I am so filled upwith soup." Eliza referred to her soup-kitchen accounts.
The small servant here appeared at the door, and said that an old womanwanted to see Miss Gracie.
"My time! my time!" said Gracie, and went to the back door to give thelast shilling of her quarter's dress allowance to the poor woman indistress.
"The worst of playing draughts is," said Eliza, "that one can donothing else at the same time, except it be to add up accounts in one'shead. Otherwise I should have been only too glad. I tell you what Ican do, though--I can play instead of Gracie this morning, if she won'tmind my keeping the candle alight to do my Browning article after Ihave gone to bed."
Mettie always offers to help every one, but so slow is the littlewoman's way of working that the energetic family of Jamieson are quiteaware that probably the business will be weeks in doing; so theiranswers to Mettie's offers, given in a kindly voice, are always: "Mydear, you have got your letters to write, and your practising--we couldnot do without your singing in the evening, you know."
Mr. Evans, who was a guest in the house for a few days, was smoking hispipe in a leisurely way in the garden, and Gracie said: "I really dofeel that I ought to give more attention to Mr. Evans, if only I hadthe time for it. Could one of you run into the garden and make a fewpleasant remarks to him until I am ready?" And this Eliza did, firstglancing at her watch in the characteristic Jamieson fashion, andcoming in presently to say that she had sat "for ten solid minutesdoing nothing, and that she does wish men had more resources of theirown."
It would have been useless to suggest that the work should stop for awhole summer day. A child came in with some flowers as an offering tothe Miss Jamiesons, and Eliza said: "Would you mind putting them downsomewhere, my dear? I will try to get a minute to arrange themby-and-by." And then the machines began again, and I walked onhomewards, and enjoyed a long, hot morning in the garden with a book.
The garden was very shady and pleasant, and one thought regretfully ofthe Jamiesons sitting indoors with their sewing-machines. Palestrinacame out presently in a gray dress, very soft and cool-looking, andwith a big sunshade over her head. She sat down beside me, and said inan off-hand way, and a determination to be congratulatory which wasvery suspicious: "I have got a pressing invitation for you." And shehanded me a letter from Kate Ward.
Mrs. Ward wrote upon the almost immaculate notepaper which is affectedby brides, I have often noticed that this superfine quality of paper isone of the first extravagances of young married life, as it is one ofthe first economies of a later date, and a little judgment will soonshow how long a woman has been married by merely looking at hernotepaper. Cream-laid, with a gold address at the top, bespeaks theearly days of matrimony; and a descent through white stamping, nostamping, Hieratica to Silurian note, marks the different stages of therolling years.
Kate said (on the best Court note) that she would never forgive us ifwe did not c
ome and see her in her new home. James had been generousin the extreme, and they had bought everything "plain but good" for thehouse. And the whole expense of it had been covered by exactly the sumof money that they had laid by for the purpose. Kate continued, "But Iwill not bore you with a description of the house, for I want you tosee it for yourselves," and then entered upon the usual Jamiesondescriptive catalogue of every piece of furniture and every wallpaperwhich she had purchased.
I handed the letter back to Palestrina, who was sitting in anexaggerated attitude of ease and indifference on the edge of mydeck-chair, and said to her, "Why leave Paradise? London will beatrocious in this hot weather, and I believe it would be temptingProvidence to quit this garden."
"I am afraid it will give great disappointment to Kate if we do notgo," said Palestrina, in a tone of voice which suggested that she hadbeen prepared for opposition, and had rehearsed her own argumentsbeforehand. "After all, she lives in the suburbs, and has a garden ofher own, and we need not stay more than two or three days."
"We shall have to do so much admiring," I said, smothering a yawn. "Iknow what brides are! You, Palestrina, probably know exactly the rightthing to say about newly-laid linoleum and furniture which is plain butgood, but I never do."
"I think I should like to go," said Palestrina, putting the matter uponpersonal grounds, as I knew she would do when she had entirely made upher mind that I must go up to London. What pressure she had brought tobear upon Mrs. Ward to induce her to invite us to the new house Icannot say, but some instinct told me that Kate had been warned towrite a letter which might be handed to me to read.
I pointed out to Palestrina that, much as I should miss her at home, Ishould not stand in the way of her paying a visit to her old friend.
"I have accepted for us both from Thursday to Tuesday," said Palestrinafirmly. "Oh, by-the-bye," she said, rising and going indoors, "I justsent a line to Dr. Fergus at the same time to say that you will lookin and see him one morning, just to see that you are going on allright."
"You also were up early?" I said to the diplomat, who smiled at me fromunder her big umbrella without a vestige of shame at her own cunning."I don't think it is fair on a crippled man to get up early and sendoff letters by the early post. It's a mean trick."
"You were up half the night," said Palestrina, nodding her head at me,"for I heard you." And she crossed the lawn and went indoors again.
The following Thursday we took train for Clarkham. I had never stayedin this part of the world before, till we came to visit Kate, and thesuburb where she lives seems to me to be rather a pleasant place, withbroad roads over whose walls and palings shrubs and red maples andother trees hang invitingly. And it is so near London that a veryshort run in the train takes one to Victoria Station. But theneighbourhood is not fashionable, and I cannot help remarking theapologetic tone in which every one we meet speaks of living here.
The Wards' house is a very nice little place, with very new wall-papersand very clean curtains and slippery floors, upon which art rugs slidedangerously. There is a small garden with a lawn and a brown hawthorntree upon it, and there are two trim little maids who wait upon oneexcellently well. Kate is a thorough good manager, and her wholehousehold reminds one of those pages on household management which onesees in magazines, describing the perfect equipment of a house--itsmanagement, and the rules to be observed by a young housekeeper.
There is a place for everything, and Kate says her wedding-presents area great assistance in giving a home-like look to the house.
Mr. Ward leaves home at half-past nine every morning, and Kate shakeshim into his coat in exactly the same way George used to be shaken intohis, and stands at the hall-door with a bright smile on her face, untilJames has got into the morning bus and driven away, in a manner that isvery wifely and commendable.
The unpretentious little household seems to be a very happy one, andKate was quite satisfied with the praise which Palestrina bestowed uponeverything.
"Of course," she said, "the great drawback is that the place is sounfashionable;" and we warmly protested against that being of the leastconsequence. But Kate said with her usual common sense: "It doesmatter, really. No one thinks anything of you if you live here, andnearly every one who has enough money always leaves directly.Still"--cheerfully--"one must expect some drawbacks, and I do think Ihave been very lucky. James is goodness itself, and quite a number ofpeople have been to call."
We found to our dismay that Kate, with the laudable intention ofamusing us, had accepted several invitations to what are called "thelast of the summer gaieties." There were tea-parties andgarden-parties given by her friends, to which we were expected to go;and her very nearest neighbours, who are generally known as the "NextDoors," actually invited us to dine.
"This afternoon," Kate said, "is the day of the Finlaysons'garden-party. They are frightfully rich people--ironmongers in theCity; but you never saw such greenhouses and gardens as they have got!Do put on your best dress," she said to Palestrina, "and look nice;people here seem to dress so smartly for this sort of thing."
I think, indeed, it was the very grandest party to which I have everhad an invitation. Every one seemed to sail about in a most statelyfashion, in a gown of some rich stuff, and there was such an air ofmagnificence about the whole thing that one hardly dared to speak abovea whisper. There was a marquee on the lawn, with most expensiverefreshments inside, and a great many waiters handing about things ontrays. Mrs. Finlayson spoke habitually--at least at parties--in anexalted tone of voice, which one wondered if she used when, forinstance, she was adding up accounts or saying her prayers. It wasdifficult to imagine that the voice could have been intended forprivate use---it was such a very public, almost a platform voice, andthe accent was most finished and aristocratic.
The Miss Finlaysons, in exquisite blue dresses and very thin shoes,also sailed about and shook hands with their guests in a cold, proudway which was very effective. Young Finlayson was frankly superciliousand condescending; and there was a schoolboy in a tall hat, who wasalways alluded to as "our brother at Eton." The excellent old papa ofthe firm of Finlayson and Merritt was really the most human and theleast alarming of the whole party. He seemed quite pleased whenPalestrina, in her soft gurgling way, admired his greenhouses andpeaches, and he led her back to where his lady ("wife" is too homely aterm) was standing in a throne-room attitude on the lawn, and remarkedgenially, "This young lady has just been admiring our little place,Lavinia."
"Indeed," said my sister, "it seems to me very charming, and----"
"Hush, hush!" said Mrs. Finlayson playfully, but with an undercurrentof annoyance in her party voice. "I won't hear a word said in itspraise--it is just a step to the West End."
"What is the actual distance?" I began.
It was old Finlayson who rescued me from my dilemma, and explained thatuntil five years ago they had had a very tidy little 'ouse at'ampstead, and that this present location, although so magnificent,was, in the eyes of his lady, really a stepping-stone to furthergrandeur and a more fashionable locality.
The Next Doors were introduced to us at this party, and we were muchstruck by the fact that, although they seemed appropriately lodged in aplace well suited to them, and in a society certainly not inferior tothemselves, they, too, instantly began to apologize for living atClarkham.
"One feels so lost in a place like this," said Mrs. Next Door; "andalthough the boys are so happy with their tennis and things on Saturdayafternoons, I cannot help feeling that it is a great drawback to thegirls to live here."
A band began to play under the trees, and Palestrina said to me, withone of her low laughs: "I wonder if I shall begin to sail about soon?Isn't it funny! They all do it, and now that the band has begun I feelthat I must do it too."
The Miss Finlaysons came up at intervals and introduced young men toher in a spasmodic sort of way. When one least expected it, some onein a tall hat and a long frock-coat was placed before Palestrina, and aMi
ss Finlayson said quite sharply, "May I introduce--Mr. Smith----" andthen as suddenly retired. There was nothing for it but to make alittle tepid conversation to the various Mr. Smiths, and Sonnenscheins,and Seligmanns who were in this way presented, and we noticed thatalmost every one of them began his conversation by saying, "Been goingout a great deal lately? Done the Academy?" And then moved off to beintroduced to some one else.
The young men were very supercilious and grand, and we could onlyaccount for it, on discussing the matter afterwards, by supposing thatthey thought Palestrina was a Clarkham young lady, and that this wastheir way of showing their superiority to her. One or two hadcertainly said to us with a dubious air, "Do you live in the Pork?" Butit was not until the quieter moments that followed the stress of thisregal party that we at all realized that this meant, Did we live inClarkham Park.
Kate Ward was very agreeable and pleasant to every one, and was voted anobody directly, and we heard it remarked that she had "no style." Ithink Kate must have overheard the remark, for she became a littlenervous towards the end of the afternoon, and presently said, "Perhapswe ought to be going?" But young Finlayson was here suddenly introducedto her by one of his sisters, and Kate thought it necessary to make afew remarks before saying good-bye. She said something pretty abouthis sisters, who are undoubtedly handsome girls, and Mr. Finlayson saidbitterly, "Yes, a good many so-called beauties in London would have toshut up shop if my sisters appeared in the Row. It is a beastly shamethey have got to live down here!"
Kate said, "But I suppose they go to town occasionally?"
"Yes," said Mr. Finlayson; "but they ought to have their Park hacks,and do things in style. It is a shame the governor does not take ahouse in the West End."
My sister tried to look sympathetic.
"However," said Mr. Finlayson more hopefully, "we have taken a bit of ashoot in Scotland this year, so I hope the girls will have somesociety. Well, it is a deer forest really, and a very fine house andgrounds," amended Mr. Finlayson, with a burst of candour.
Mrs. Finlayson sailed up, and stooped to make a few remarks about thegaiety of the past season to us. She said that she and her daughterswere in demand everywhere, and that the other night in a West Endtheatre every lorgnette in the house was turned towards their box."Rupert, of course, has his own chambers in St. James's, and knowsevery one."
The Miss Finlaysons shook hands, and said good-bye with their usuallofty condescension, and each said, "Going on anywhere?" to which wecould only reply humbly that we had no further engagements for thatafternoon.
Kate praised the party all the way home, and then said, with a burst offeeling: "Oh, how I do wish I were a swell! I know it's wicked, but Iwould snub one or two people."
The next morning, being Sunday, we went to church, and the feeling ofequality with the rest of mankind which this gives one was veryrefreshing after the magnificence and social distinctions about whichwe had been learning so much during the last few days. But even inchurch one may notice how superior some families in Clarkham are toothers. The pew-letting of the church seems to have been conducted onprinciples other than those recommended in Holy Writ. Richerfolk--those with gold chains, for whom we learn precedence should notbe accorded--occupied the front pews, furnished with red cushions andPrayer-Books with silver corners, while the humbler sort wereaccommodated with seats under the gallery. The Finlaysons sailed inrather late, with a rustle of their smart dresses, and kneeled to prayon very high hassocks, their elbows just touching the book-board infront of them, their faces inadequately covered with theirtightly-gloved hands. The Next Doors had a pew half-way up the middleaisle. The day was hot, and the clergyman, a small devout-looking man,very earnest and really eloquent, was guilty sometimes in moments ofexcitement of dropping aitches. This of course may have been theresult of the hot weather. It was something of a shock to notice thatthe little Next Doors--terrible children, of high spirits andpugnacious dispositions--were allowed to giggle unreproved at eachomission of the aspirate on the part of the preacher. The Next Doorsovertook us on our way out of church, and two of the pugnaciouschildren, having dug each other with their elbows, and fought round mefor permission to walk home with me and talk about the war, threw lightupon their behaviour in church by remarking with smilingself-satisfaction, "Papa says we ought always to giggle when Mr. Elliotdrops his aitches, to show that we know better...." Little brutes!
We spent a lazy afternoon under the brown hawthorn tree on the littlelawn, and Thomas drove down to see Palestrina, and good Kate Ward putforth her very best efforts to give us a sumptuous cold supper. Wefound, to our surprise, that nightingales sing down here, and we sat onthe lawn till quite late listening to them. Mr. and Mrs. Ward slippedtheir hands into one another's in the dark, and appeared to be mosthappy and contented.
"I am glad we came," said Palestrina that night, when Mrs. Ward hadquitted the room. "Dear old Kate!"
A Lame Dog's Diary Page 14
