by W. W. Jacobs
And so on. This was the attitude of that cold, calculating,dispassionate Mary-outside-the-glass. But Mary smothered thevoice--would not hear a word of it. Completely she becameMary-in-the-glass, that sentimental young woman, and in that personalitytripped along the path of thought where stood her stranger.
Delectably she relived the encounter. Paced down the street, took againhis arm; without a fault recalled his words, without a check gave herreplies; recalled the pitch of his voice to the nicest note, struckagain the light in his eyes.
Now why? She had met other men; in Ireland had thrice wounded her tenderheart by negations that had caused three suitors most desperateanguish. None had awakened in her a deeper interest; and yet here wasa stranger--suddenly encountered, as suddenly left--who in her mind hadappropriated a track which she was eager to make a well-beaten path.Why?
But Mary-in-the-glass, that sentimental young woman, was no prober ofemotions. They veiled the hard business of commonplace life; and amidthem mistily she now floated afar into dim features where her stranger,stranger no more, walked with her hand in hand.
There was attempt at first to construct an actual re-encounter.Mary-in-the-glass, that romantic young woman, very speciously pointedout that in London when once you see a man you may reasonably supposethat you will again meet him. For in London one does not aimlesslywander; one has some set purpose and traverses a thousand times the samestreets, crossing daily at the same points as though upon the pursuitof a chalked line. Mary-in-the-glass, therefore, constructing are-encounter, happened to be strolling along the scene of the accident,and lo! there was he!
Unhappily this vision was transient. Mary-outside-the-glass, that coldyoung woman, got in a word here that erased the picture. The squarewhere the cab crashed was too far afield to take the children fortheir walk; holiday was a boon rarely granted and never granted atthe particular hour of the catastrophe--the only time of day at which,according to the chalked-line theory, she might reasonably expect tofind the stranger in the same spot.
But Mary did not brood long upon this melancholy obstacle; drove awayMary-outside-the-glass; became again Mary-in-the-glass. And they areimpossible creatures these Marys-in-the-glass. They will approachan unbridged chasm across which no Mary-out-side could by any meansadventure, and, floating the gulf, will deliriously roam in the fieldsbeyond.
So now. And in that dream-world of the musing brain Mary with herstranger sublimely wandered. With her form and his she peopled allthe favourite spots she knew; contrived others and strolled inthem; introduced other persons, and marked their comment on her dearcompanion.
It was he whom she made to do mighty deeds in those misty fields; ofherself hers were merely a girl's gentle fancies, held modest byher sex's natural desire to be loved for itself alone--not for bigbehaviour.
CHAPTER IV.
Excursions In A Nursery.
The loud bang of a door was the gong that called Mary back fromthose pleasant fields. They whirled from her, leaving her in suddenrealisation of the material.
She glanced at the clock.
"Goodness!" cried she, and fell to scattering her outdoor finery at aspeed dangerous under any but the deftest fingers. Into a skirt of blackand a simple blouse she slipped, and down, skimming the stairs, to whereher charges bided their bedtime.
Opening the nursery door she paused upon the threshold with a little"Oh!" of surprise. There was a reek of cigar smoke; its origin betweenthe lips of a burly young man who stood drumming a tune upon thewindow-pane.
Mr. Bob Chater turned at her entry. "I've been waiting for you a longtime," he said.
She asked, "Whatever for?" and in her tone there was a chill.
"Didn't I tell you yesterday that I was coming to see the kids tubbed?"
"I didn't think you meant it."
Mr. Bob Chater laughed. "Well, now you see that I did. I've been lookingforward to this all day."
Plainly she was perturbed. She said: "Mr. Chater, I really would ratheryou did not, if you don't mind."
"Well, but I do mind, d'you see? I mind very much indeed. It would bethe bitterest disappointment."
His playfulness sat ill upon him. This was a stout young man,black-eyed, dark-moustached, with a thick and heavy look about him.
She would not catch his mood. "I am sure when I ask you--"
"Well, you're jolly well wrong, you know," he laughed; "'cause I ain'tgoing."
Mary flushed slightly; moved to the hearthrug where sat David andAngela, her small charges, watching, from their toys, the scene.
It occurred to Mr. Bob Chater that she was annoyed.
"I say, be decent to a fellow, Miss Humfray," he said. "Look here, Ihadn't seen the kids for two years when I came back yesterday. Theyhardly remember their kind big brother." He addressed the small girlwhose round eyes, moving from speaker to speaker since Mary had entered,were now upon him. "Do you, Angela?" he asked.
"I--hate--you," Angela told him, in the slow utterance of one givingcompletest effect to a carefully weighed sentiment.
With equal impressiveness, David, seated beside her, lent his authorityto the statement. "I--hate--you--too," he joined.
Mr. Bob Chater laughed a little stupidly.
Mary cried: "Oh, Angela! Oh, David! How can you speak like that!"
"He is perfectly abom'able," Angela said, unmoved. "He made Davie cry.He trod on Davie's beetle."
The cracked corpse of a mechanical beetle, joy of David's heart, wasproduced in evidence; its distressed owner reddening ominously at thisrenewed recollection of the calamity.
Mary took the sad pieces tenderly. "Silly children! He never meant tobreak it. Oh, such silly children!"
Angela protested, "He did! He did! He put his foot over it while it wasrunning, and stopped it. He told David to get it away if he could, andDavid bit his leg, and he said 'Damn you!' and crushed it crack."
Mary whipped a glance at the murderer. She ignored the evidence."To-morrow!" said she. "Why, what fun! To-morrow we'll play hospitallike we did when Christabel broke her arm. We'll make Mr. Beetle just aswell as ever he was before!"
"I'll be doctor!" cried David, transported into delight.
"Yes, and Angela nurse. Look, we'll put poor Mr. Beetle on themantelpiece to-night, right out of the draughts. If he got a draughtinto that crack in his back, goodness knows what wouldn't happen. Hemust eat slops like Christabel did. _What_ fun! Now, bed--_bustle!_"
Their adored Mary had restored confidence. They clung about her.
"It was a pure accident," explained Mr. Bob Chater, gloomily watchingthis scene. "I'll buy you another to-morrow."
"There!" Mary cried. "Think of that!"
David reflected upon it without emotion. He regarded his big brothersullenly; sullenly said, "I don't want another."
Mary cried brightly: "Rubbish! Come, kiss your brother good-night, andsay 'thank you!' Both of you. Quick as lightning!"
They hung back.
Mary had obtained so complete a command of their affections that herword was the wise law which, ordinarily, they had come unquestioninglyto accept. In their short lives David and Angela had experienced aprocession of nurses, of nursery-governesses, of lady-helps, each one ofwhom received or gave her month's notice within a few weeks of arrival,and against whom they had conducted a sullen or a violent war. From thefirst it had been different with Miss Humfray. As was their custom (forthis constant change tried tempers) upon the very day of her arrivalthey had met her with frank hostility, had declared mutiny at herfirst command. But her reception of this attitude they found a new andastonishing experience. She had not been shocked, had not been angry,had ventured no threat to tell their mother. Instead, at the outbreak ofdefiance, she went into the gayest and most infectious laughter, kissedthem--and they had capitulated before they realised the event.
A second attempt at mutiny, made upon the following day, met with areception equally novel. Again this pretty Miss Humfray had laughed, butthis time had fully sympathised with their view
of the point at issueand had made of the affair a most entrancing game. She, behold, was apirate captain; they were the rebellious crew. In five minutes they hadmarooned her upon the desert island represented by the hearthrug; hadrowed away with faces which, under her instructions, were properlystern; and only when she waved the white flag of truce had theytaken her aboard again. Meanwhile the subject of the quarrel had beenforgotten.
Never a dispute arose thereafter. They idolised this pretty MissHumfray: whatsoever she said was clearly right.
Here, however, was a dangerous conflict of opinion. They hung back.
"Quickly," Mary repeated. "Kiss him, and say thank-you quickly, or therewill be no story when you are in bed."
It was a terrific price to pay; their troubled faces mirrored theconflict of decision.
David found solution. In his slow, solemn voice, "You kiss him first,"he said. Miss Humfray always took their medicine first, and David arguedfrom the one evil necessity to this other.
Mr. Bob Chater laughed delightedly. "That's a brilliant idea!" he cried;came two strides towards Mary; put a hand upon her arm.
So sudden, so unexpected was his movement, that by the narrowest chanceonly did she escape his purpose. A jerk of her head, and he had mouthedat the air two inches from her face.
She shook her arm free. "Oh!" she cried; and in the exclamation therewas that which would have given a nicer man pause.
Mr. Bob Chater was nothing abashed. A handsome face and a bold airhad made conquests easy to him. It was an axiom of his that a girl whoworked for her living by that fact proclaimed flirtation to be agreeableto her--at all events with such as he. Chance had so shaped affairs thatthis was the first time his theory had found disproof. He saw she wasoffended; so much the more tickling; conquest was thereby the moreenticing.
He laughed; said he was only "rotting."
Mary did not reply. The command to kiss their brother went by default;she hurried her charges through the door to the adjoining night nursery.
When they were started upon undressing she came back.
"You're going to let me see you tub them?" Bob asked her.
Busy replacing toys in cupboards, she did not reply.
"You're not angry, are you?"
She gave him no answer.
Bob Chater discarded the laugh from his tone. "If you are angry, I'mvery sorry. You must have known I was only fooling. It was only to makethe kids laugh."
So far as was possible she kept her back to him.
The continued slight pricked him. His voice hardened. "When I have thegrace to apologise, I think you might have the grace to accept it."
Mary said in low tones: "If you meant only to make them laugh, of courseI believe you. It is all right."
"Good. Well, now, may I see them tubbed?"
"I have told you I would rather not."
"Dash it all, Miss Humfray, you're rather unkind, aren't, you? Here haveI been away nearly two years--I've been travelling on the Continent forthe firm-you know that, don't you?"
She said she had heard Mr. and Mrs. Chater talking of it.
"Well, and yet you won't let me come near my darling little sister andmy sweet little brother to tell 'em all about it?"
"But I'm not keeping you from them, Mr. Chater. You have had plenty oftime."
"Time! Why, I only got back yesterday!"
"You have been in here this afternoon."
"Ah, they were shy. They're better when you are here."
She had finished her task, and she turned to him. "Mr. Chater, you knowI could not keep David and Angela from you even if I dreamed of doingsuch a thing. Only, I say I would rather you did not come in while Ibath them, that is all."
"Yes, but why?"
"Mrs. Chater would not like it for one thing, I feel sure."
"Oh, that's all rot. Mother wouldn't mind--anyway, I do as I like inthis house."
From all she had heard of Mrs. Chater's beloved Bob, Mary guessed thisto be true. Long prior to his arrival she had been prejudiced againsthim; acquaintance emphasised the prophetic impression.
"Another night, then," she said.
He felt he was winning. No girl withstood him long.
"No, to-night. Another thing--I want to know you better. Thisarrangement is all new to me. There was a nurse here in your place whenI went. I've hardly spoken to you. Have you ever been abroad?"
"No."
"Well, I'll tell you--and the kids--some of my adventures while you'retubbing 'em. Lead on."
She was at the night-nursery door. Evidently this man would not see herconventional reason for not wishing him at the tubbing. Angela had growna biggish girl since he went away.
She said, "Please not to-night."
"I'm jolly well coming," he chuckled.
The lesson of dependence was wilfully forgotten. Mary agreed with Angelaand David: she hated this Bob.
"No," she said sharply, "you are not."
He had thrown his cigar into the grate; taken out another; stooped tothe hearth to scratch a match. His back was to her; to him all her toneconveyed was that a "rag" was on hand.
"We'll see," he laughed; struck the match.
She stepped swiftly within the door; closed it.
Bob Chater laughed again; ran across.
The lock clicked as she turned the key.
"Let me in!" he cried, rattling the handle. "Let me in!"
The splash of water answered him.
He thumped the panel. "Open the door!"
"Now, Angela," he heard her say, "quick as lightning with that chimmy."
Bob's face darkened; he damned beneath his breath. Then with a laughhe turned away. "I'm going to have some fun with that girl," he toldhimself; and on the way downstairs, her pretty face and figure in hismind, pleased himself with vicious anticipation.
CHAPTER V.
Excursions At A Dinner-Table.
I.
Two distressing reasons combined to compel Mrs. Chater to giveMary place at the evening meal. There was the aggravating fact thatmothers'-helps, just as if they were ordinary people, must be fed; therewas also the contingency that servants most strongly objected to servinga special meal--even "on a tray"--to one who was not of the family, yetwho had airs above the kitchen.
Except, then, when there were guests Miss Humfray must be accommodatedat late dinner. Mrs. Chater considered it annoying, yet found in itcertain comfortable advantages--as sympathy from friends: "Mustn't itbe rather awkward sometimes, Mrs. Chater?" A plaintive shrug wouldillustrate the answer: "Well, it is, of course, very awkward sometimes;but one must put up with it. That class of person takes offence soeasily, you know; and I always try to treat my lady-helps as well aspossible."
"I'm sure you do, Mrs. Chater. How grateful they should be!" And thistime a sad little laugh would illustrate: "Oh, one hardly expectsgratitude nowadays, does one?"
Mary at dinner must observe certain rules, however. Certain dishes--alittle out of season, perhaps, or classed as luxuries--were bornetriumphantly past her by a glad parlour-maid acting upon a frown anda glance that Mrs. Chater signalled. Certain occasions, again, whenprivate matters were to be discussed, were heralded by "Miss Humfray,"in an inflexion of voice that set Mary to fold her napkin and from theroom.
The girl greeted these early dismissals with considerable relief.Dinner was to her a nightly ordeal whose atmosphere swept appetitesky-high--took the savour from meats, dried the throat.
II.
Descending to the dining-room upon this evening, her normal shrinkingfrom the meal was considerably augmented. On the previous night--thefirst upon which Mr. Bob Chater's legs had partnered hers beneath thetable--his eyes (like some bold gallant popping out on modesty wheneverit dared peep from the doorway) had captured her glance each timeshe ventured look up from her plate. The episode of the nursery wasequivalent to having slapped the gallant's face, and the re-encounterwas proportionately uncomfortable.
Taking her place she was by sheer nervousness impelled to meet
hisgaze--so heavily freighted it was as to raise a sudden flush toher cheek. Her eyes fled round to Mrs. Chater, received a look thatquestioned the blush, drove it duskier; through an uncomfortablehalf-hour she kept her face towards her plate.
It was illuminative of the relations between husband and wife that Mrs.Chater carved; her husband dealt the sweets. The carving knife is thedomestic sceptre of authority: when it is wielded by the woman, the man,you will find, is consort rather than king.
III.
Upon the previous evening Mr. Bob Chater had led the conversation.To-night he was indisposed for the position--would not take it despitehis mother's desperate attempts to board the train of his ideas andby it be carried to scenes of her son's adventures. A dozen times shepresented her ticket; as often Bob turned her back at the barrier.
It was a rare event this refusal of his to carry passengers. So loudlydid he whistle as a rule as to attract all in the vicinity, convincedthat there was an important train by which it would be agreeable totravel.
