by Ian Hay
CHAPTER XXV
PURELY COMMERCIAL
I
"Well," said Mrs. Welwyn, taking off her apron, "the beds are done,anyway. One less to make," she added philosophically, "now thatPumpherston has hopped it. That's something."
"We could do with the rent of his room for all that, Mother," commentedpractical Amelia.
"That's true, dearie," sighed Mrs. Welwyn. "Well, perhaps we shall getanother lodger. Where's your father, by the way?"
"He went out half an hour ago. I expect he's at the Museum."
"Did Mr. Dick see him?"
"I don't know."
"And Mr. Dick said he did n't want to see me?" Mrs. Welwyn spoke ratherwistfully.
"That was what he said," admitted 'Melia in a respectful tone.
"I don't suppose he's very anxious to see any of us much," said Mrs.Welwyn candidly. "We must just get the idea out of our heads, that'sall. Forget it! Then, there's that broker's insect. We are going toget _him_ paid off double-quick, or I 'm a Dutchman. I don't know howit's going to be done. Still, we have got round worse corners thanthis, have n't we, duckie?"
"Yes, Mother," said Amelia bravely.
Martha Welwyn suddenly flung her arms round her little daughter.
"My precious," she whispered impulsively, "I would n't mind if it wasn't for you children." Her voice broke. "God pity women!"
"Mother, Mother!" cried little 'Melia reprovingly. "That's not likeyou!" And she hugged her tearful but contrite parent back tocheerfulness again.
A door banged downstairs, and the two fell apart guiltily.
"That's Tilly," said Mrs. Welwyn. "We must n't be downhearted, orshe'll scold us. Bustle about!"
With great vigour and presence of mind this excellent woman snatched thecloth off the table and shook it severely. Amelia, having hastilyremoved a tear from her mother's cheek with a duster, opened the pianoand began to wipe down the keys, to the accompaniment of an inharmoniouschromatic scale.
The door flew open and Tilly marched in, humming a cheerful air.
"Such luck, Mother!" she cried.
For a moment Martha Welwyn was deceived. She whirled round excitedly.
"What do you mean, dearie?" she exclaimed.
"I've got a berth--with Madame Amelie--old Mrs. Crump, you know--inEarl's Court Road. One of her girls is leaving--"
"Got the sack?" enquired Mrs. Welwyn, rearranging the tablecloth.
"No. She's only"--Tilly's voice quavered ever so slightly--"going to bemarried. I've got her place, and I 'm once more an independent lady."
"That's capital news, Tilly," said Mrs. Welwyn heartily. At any rate,her daughter would have something to occupy her mind.
"Now the next thing to do," proceeded Tilly with great animation, "is toget rid of the broker's man. We ought to be able to raise the money allright. I'm at work again. Dad has had an offer of newspaper articles;and if only we can get Mr. Pumpherston's room let--"
"The broker's man has gone, Sis," said Amelia.
"Gone?" cried Tilly and Mrs. Welwyn in a breath.
"Well, gone out, anyhow. I saw him shuffling across the Square half anhour ago."
"My lord will find the chain up when he comes back," said Mrs. Welwyngrimly.
"Still, we must find the money," persisted Tilly. "We have never beenin debt yet, and we are never going to be." Her slight figure stiffenedproudly. "Independence! That's the only thing worth having in thisworld. Be independent! Owe nothing to nobody!"
Certainly, whether she derived it from her father's ancestry or hermother's solid worth, Tilly Welwyn was composed of good fibre. Withflushed cheeks and unnaturally bright eyes she turned to the mirror overthe drawing-room mantelpiece and began to take off her hat.
"It's a mystery to me," ruminated the puzzled Mrs. Welwyn, "why thatcreature went out. He must have known we would n't let him in again."
"Perhaps Dicky kicked him out," suggested that small hero-worshipper,Amelia, with relish.
Tilly turned sharply.
"Who?" she asked. A hatpin tinkled into the fender.
Little 'Melia bit her lip, and turned scarlet.
"Mr. Dick, dearie," said Mrs. Welwyn, coming to the rescue. "He lookedin this morning."
"What for?" asked Tilly, groping for the hatpin.
"I don't know. I did n't see him," admitted her mother reluctantly.
"I do," said 'Melia, having decided to get things over at once. "Heleft a letter for you, Sis."
Tilly rose to her feet again, keeping her back to her audience.
"Where is it?" she enquired unsteadily.
"Here," said Amelia, with a hand in the pocket of her pinafore.
"Put it on the table," said Tilly, standing on tiptoe while she pattedher brown hair into position before the glass. "I'll read itpresently."
"There's the front-door bell!" said Mrs. Welwyn nervously. "What are weto do if it's Russell again?"
"Lock the door," said Amelia promptly.
"I don't know, I'm sure," said Mrs. Welwyn doubtfully. "I wonder whatthe law is. I wish Daddy was in." She considered, perplexed. "Anyhow,I'll go down and see. Come with me, 'Melia," she added tactfully.
The pair slipped out of the room and went downstairs, leaving Tillyalone with her letter.
"Supposing he rushes in the moment we open the door?" whispered Amelia,as they consulted on the mat. "What then?"
"We'll put the chain up first, and then open the door a crack," saidMrs. Welwyn.
This procedure was adopted, with the result that Mr. Mainwaring and LadyAdela, waiting patiently upon the steps outside, were eventuallyconfronted, after certain mysterious clankings had taken place within,with a vision of two apprehensive countenances, one childish and theother middle-aged, set one upon another against a black background in aframe eight feet high and three inches wide. It was but a glimpse, forthe vision was hardly embodied when it faded from view with uncannysuddenness: and after a further fantasia upon the chain, the door wastugged open, to reveal the shrinking figures of Mrs. Welwyn and Amelia.
"Good-morning, Mrs. Welwyn," said Lady Adela. "I hope you will forgivethis early call, but we are anxious to have a talk with--er--MissWelwyn."
Miss Welwyn's agitated parent ushered the visitors into the dining-room,bidding Amelia run upstairs and give warning of the coming interview.Resistance did not occur to her.
Amelia found her sister sitting motionless on the edge of a chair, withher arms upon the table. In her hands she held an open letter, which shewas not reading. Her grey eyes, wide open, unblinking, were fixed onvacancy. Her lips moved, as if repeating some formula.
Amelia touched her softly on the arm.
"Tilly," she whispered, "they want to see you."
Tilly roused herself.
"Who?" she asked dreamily.
The question was answered by the appearance in the doorway of LadyAdela, followed by her husband. Tilly rose, thrust the letter into herbelt, and greeted her visitors.
"How do you do?" she said mechanically. "Won't you sit down?"
Lady Adela, singling out that well-tried friend of yesterday, the sofa,sank down upon it. Mr. Mainwaring remained standing behind. Little'Melia, after one sympathetic glance in the direction of her sister,gently closed the door and joined her mother on the landing outside.
"'Melia," announced that harassed chatelaine, "there's the front dooragain! It must be Stillbottle this time. Supposing he meets _them_?"
"It don't signify if he does," replied her shrewd little daughter."They have met once already. Still, we may as well keep him out."
Mother and daughter accordingly proceeded to a repetition of theirprevious performance with the door-chain. As before, the front door wasultimately flung open with abject expressions of regret.
On the steps stood a small, sturdy, spectacled young clergyman.
"Oh, good-morning," he exclaimed.
"I am so sorry to trouble you, but Ihave been asked by a friend to look at your vacant room. Might I do itnow?"
This was familiar ground, and Mrs. Welwyn escorted the stranger upstairswith a sigh of relief.
"My friend proposes to move in almost immediately," explained Mr.Rylands, mounting at a distressingly rapid pace, "if they aresatisfactory. That is--of course"--he added in a panic--"I am sure theywill be satisfactory. But my friend proposes to move in at once."
His approval of the late lair of the bellicose Pumpherston when--almostbefore--the panting Mrs. Welwyn had pulled up the blind and unveiled itsglories, erred on the side of the ecstatic. The terms asked for thedingy but speckless apartment were not excessive, and Mr. Rylands agreedto them at once.
"May I ask, sir," enquired Mrs. Welwyn, as they descended thestaircase--"did some one recommend us? We like to know who our friendsare."
Mr. Rylands was quite prepared for this question.
"As a matter of fact," he explained volubly, "I believe the gentlemansaw the card in the window; and being particularly fond of RussellSquare, and--and its associations, and so on, he decided to come andreside here. He will send his luggage round this afternoon."
By this time they had passed the closed drawing-room door and were inthe hall again.
"Will you give me the gentleman's name, sir, please?" asked Mrs. Welwyn,in obedience to a reminding gleam in the eye of her small daughter, whowas standing full in the open doorway, apparently with the intention ofcollaring Mr. Rylands low. "I suppose he can give a reference, or pay aweek in advance? That's our usual--"
"Certainly, by all means," said Rylands hurriedly. Like most men, hefound it almost as delicate and embarrassing an undertaking to discussmoney matters with a woman as to make love to her. "In point of fact,"he continued, searching furtively in his pocket, "my friend would liketo pay a month in advance. He is anxious to make quite sure of therooms, so--oh, I beg your pardon!" (This to little 'Melia, into whom hehad cannoned heavily in a misguided but characteristic attempt to walkout of the house backwards.) "_Good_-morning!"
And the Reverend Godfrey Rylands, thrusting a warm bank-note into Mrs.Welwyn's palm, stumbled down the steps into the Square, and set off at amost unclerical pace in the direction of Piccadilly. He was going tolunch, it will be remembered, with Connie Carmyle.
"He never left the new lodger's name," recollected Mrs. Welwyn, toolate.
"No, but he left a five-pound note," said practical Amelia.
