CHAPTER THIRTY THREE.
BACK TO POVERTY.
Trix was at the station to meet them--a greatly developed Trix, asbecame a young woman who not only provided for her own education butalso that of her sister. The door-knocker had disappeared, and herlanky locks were screwed into a knot about as big as a good-sizedwalnut; she wore a discarded black skirt of Ruth's, which reached downto her ankles, a blue blouse, white sailor-hat, and brown shoes. Ruth'sheart contracted with pain when she saw her, and even Mollie felt a pangof dismay. So shabby, so unkempt, so obviously poverty-stricken! Wasit really possible that Trix had looked like this six weeks before, andthat the sight had caused no consternation?
Plainly Miss Trix was rather pleased than otherwise with her appearance,and was decidedly patronising to her half-sisters, ordering them about,and treating them with the lenient forbearance which a busy worker mightbe expected to show to two elderly, incapable drones. She interviewedthe porter as to sending home the luggage, and only consented to thehire of a cab when it was proved to her own satisfaction that the costwould be about equal. She took Ruth's purse from her hand to tip theporter, looking at him the while with such a severe and determined airthat his grumbles died upon his lips; finally, she gave the cabmaninstructions to stop at a certain shop, where--as she informed hersisters triumphantly--potatoes could be bought three-halfpence a peckcheaper than in more fashionable neighbourhoods.
"Good gracious, Trix, you don't mean to take home potatoes in the cab!"gasped Ruth, fresh from the delightful luxury of the Court, where no onethought what anything cost, and every luxury of the season appeared ofits own accord upon the table; but Trix smiled at her benignly, andreplied--
"Certainly; two pecks! And any other vegetables I can pick up cheap.It will help to pay for the cab-fare. Not that you will get any of themto-night, for we have knocked off late dinner and afternoon-tea, andhave one late tea instead. Cold tongue for you to-night, as you havehad a journey. Mother wanted to have a chicken. The idea! `No,indeed,' I said; `let them begin as they must go on. Our chicken daysare over!'"
"I think yours are, any way. You seem to have grown into a very oldhen," cried Mollie disconsolately. She looked across the cab at thebusinesslike young woman, and wondered if a few weeks of home under thenew conditions would work a similar transformation in herself and Ruth.It was a comfort to remember that Trix's vocation kept her out of thehouse for the greater part of the day, for it would be distinctly tryingto be "bossed" as a permanent thing.
Perhaps Trix's thoughts had wandered to the same subject, for herwelcome was the reverse of encouraging.
"Can't think what you've come back for!" she declared candidly. "Motherthought of sending for you last week, but I told her it was absurd. Itwill make more work, and both the servants are going. We gave Marynotice, and Kate said she couldn't abase herself to be a `general' afterher bringings up. Goodness knows who we shall get! I sat for two hoursin a registry-office yesterday afternoon, when we had a half-holiday,and didn't see a single creature who could be bribed to come. `Nine infamily; one servant, cellar kitchens; washing done at home.' Sounds soattractive, doesn't it? And yet I suppose we ought not to afford evenone. If we lived in the country we could do the work alone, butcockroaches! No really refined mind can cope with cockroaches, and theysimply swarm in the back kitchen... Mother's terribly cut up that youhave left the Court. If I had been in your place I'd have stayed on,and persuaded the old man to help father out of his difficulties."
"Oh, Trix, as if we hadn't tried! You talk as if no one had any sensebut yourself! You are very clever and important, no doubt, but evenyour earnings will not keep the family. There is a little work left forMollie and myself!" cried Ruth hotly.
Whereupon Trix elevated the red marks which should have been hereyebrows, and exclaimed coolly--
"Hallo, still snapping! I thought you would be quite good-temperedafter such a holiday!"
It was indeed like being at home again to hear a squabble between Ruthand Trix within the first ten minutes.
When the house was reached, there was the little mother standing in thedoorway, smiling and waving her hands in welcome; but at the first sightof her both girls felt a sudden choking sensation in the throat, so wandid she appear, so bleached in colour, such a tiny, frail littlecreature to be burdened with the care of an impecunious household! Sheclung to her girls, and her girls clung to her, and presently they wereseated together round the dining-room table, on which, in spite ofTrix's dismal prophecy, appeared a tray of the ever-welcome afternoon-tea.
"After their journey, Trix dear! I thought just this once," murmuredMrs Connor apologetically. "Dear Ruth, how sweet you look! Is that anew coat? No, I see it is not; but it looks new, with that charmingcollar and vest. And your hair, dear; and Mollie's, too! Sobeautifully done! I suppose the maid taught you? Oh, darlings, I'mthankful to have you back, but I should never have sent for you! Youwere on the spot, and could judge best what to do. Did you--did you letUncle Bernard know of our trouble?"
The strained eagerness of the small face, the involuntary tremor in thevoice, smote the girls to the heart. Ruth turned her head aside,herself on the verge of tears, while Mollie said brokenly--
"We sent him your letter to read, and when he said nothing I asked himpoint-blank if he would lend father enough money to put things rightjust now, and promised that we would all work to pay him back."
"Yes, dear--yes! And then?"
"He wouldn't. He jeered at me, and said he made it a rule never tothrow good money after bad. He would keep us for the remaining sixweeks, if we agreed to stay, but more than that he must refuse to do.So there seemed no alternative, mother dear, but to come straight awayand try to help you ourselves."
"Yes, dear--yes. Bless you! You were quite right!"
Mrs Connor tried to speak bravely; but it was as if the last gleam ofhope had died out of her tired eyes, and her hands trembled as sheclasped them in her lap. She herself had not realised until this momenthow much she had counted upon Uncle Bernard's intervention, and now thelast hope seemed gone. She shivered, and put her hand to her head; thenforced herself to smile, as she met the girls' anxious gaze.
"It's always the darkest the hour before the dawn. You must talk thingsover with pater, dears; my head is so confused. I shall be thankful foryour help in the house, and no doubt something will turn up for you, asit has done for Trix."
"Mother," cried Ruth, with an outburst of irritation, which was theresult of tired-out nerves and body, "Trix is insupportable! Shebehaves as if she were the head of the house! How can you let her giveherself such airs and domineer over you so? I shan't stand it for one,and the sooner she understands it the better. I am not going to beordered about by a bit of a chit of seventeen, and apologise to her if Idare to have as much as a cup of tea!"
"Hu-ush, dear!" Mrs Connor cast an apprehensive glance towards thehalf-opened door, through which Trix's voice could be heardsuperintending the carrying of the luggage. "She is such a child!Young things are always inclined to go to extremes; and she has been sogood! I don't know what I should have done without her! We must notlet her feel slighted because you have returned!"
That was true enough; Trix had borne the heat and burden of the day,while her stepsisters were amusing themselves, in blissful ignorance ofthe gathering troubles. Ruth's irritation was silenced by the reminder,and she listened quietly while Mollie pressed her mother for details ofthe present situation. Alas, it was even worse than had been expected!It was so bad that it could not well be worse, and it seemed ridiculousto talk of what they could afford, since, as a matter of fact, theycould afford nothing at all. It was a matter of speculation whence thenext twenty pounds was to come.
"`Man's extremity is God's opportunity!' Some friend will be raised upto help us through this strait. It is not often that we are brought toa point when we realise our own helplessness so plainly. Let us lookupon it as an opportunity, and watch to see w
hat He will do. `Be notdismayed, neither be afraid, for the Lord thy God is with theewhithersoever thou goest.'"
Mrs Connor's voice sank to a rapt whisper, her face shone with thatwonderful grace and exaltation which the Christian knows in the midst ofhis trial; but her daughters looked at her pinched cheeks and haggardeyes, and felt their hearts sink within them.
It was a dreary evening--how different from the triumphant home-comingwhich fancy had painted so often during the weeks of absence! The housefelt unbearably cramped and airless. It was dreadful to have no garden,after having practically lived out of doors; and oh, what a contrast theevening meal presented from the repast served nightly in the old oakdining-hall!
When people are in the extremity of anxiety and poverty, they have noheart to attend to the little superfluities which add so much to thebeauty of daily life; there was not a single flower on the table, nor inthe half-lit drawing-room, where Trix sternly forbade the lighting of asecond lamp. Mr Connor sat silent and haggard, and his wife poured outtea and smiled a pathetic, patient little smile, as the childrencatechised the travellers.
Was the Court a jolly big house? Were there strawberries in the garden?Did the footmen wear white stockings, like the Lord Mayor's Show? Whatwas the name of the horse that bolted? What did they have for dinnerevery night? On and on went the endless catechism, which the sisterstolerated only as an improvement on silence. They had no wish to visitAttica, but retired upstairs to their bedroom at the earliest possiblemoment to mingle tears of misery.
"I--I feel as if I should burst!" cried Ruth expressively. "My heart isso full that I can't bear another thing! Everything seems to havehappened at once, and I feel crushed!"
"It's so bad that it must get better! it can't possibly get worse!" saidMollie, persistently hopeful in the midst of her misery.
But alas, her prophecy was not justified by events! Mrs Connor crawledabout the house for another week, looking every day smaller and morefragile; and then a morning came when she could not rise from bed, andall other anxieties seemed to dwindle in significance when the illnesstook a serious turn, and her precious life itself seemed in danger.
The Fortunes of the Farrells Page 33
