CHAPTER XX
SHOPPING
Mrs. Potten found that it "paid" to do her own shopping, and she did itonce every week, on Friday. For this purpose she was compelled to useher car. This grieved her. Her extreme desire to save petrol would havebeen more patriotic if she had not availed herself, on every possibleoccasion, of using other people's petrol, or, so to speak, otherpeople's oats.
She had gone to the Sale of work in Boreham's gig, but there was notmuch room in it for miscellaneous parcels, so she was obliged to comeinto Oxford on the following morning as usual and do her regularshopping.
Mrs. Potten's acquaintance with the University consisted in knowing amember of it here and there, and in accepting invitations to any publicfunction which did not involve the expenditure of her own money. NoGreenleafe Potten had ever given any endowment to Oxford, nor, for thematter of that, had any Squire of Chartcote ever spent a penny for theadvancement of learning. Indeed, the old County had been mostly occupiedin preserving itself from gradual extinction, and the new County, theNouveaux Riches, had been mainly occupied in the dissipation of energy.
But Mrs. Potten had given the Potten revenues a new lease of life. Notonly did she make a point of not reducing her capital, but she wasincreasing it year by year. She did this by systematic and often minuteeconomies (which is the true secret of economy). The surface of hernature was emotional, enclosing a core of flint, so that when she (beingshort-sighted) dropped things about in moments of excitement, agreeableor disagreeable, she made such losses good by drawing in the householdbelt. If she inadvertently dropped a half-crown piece down a gratingwhile exchanging controversial remarks with a local tradesman, or mixedup a note with her pocket handkerchief and mislaid both when forced tofind a subscription to some pious object, or if she left a pursecontaining one shilling and fivepence behind her on a chair in theagitation of meeting a man whom she admired (a man like the Warden, forinstance); when such misfortunes happened she made them up--somehow!
Knowing her own weakness, she armed herself against it, by nevercarrying money about with her, except on rare occasions. When shetravelled, her maid carried the money (with her head as the price ofit).
This Friday morning, therefore, Mrs. Potten had a business duty beforeher, she had to squeeze ten shillings out of the weekly bills--a matterdifficult in times of peace and more difficult in war time. It was adifficulty she meant to overcome.
Now on this Friday morning, after the Sale, Mrs. Potten motored intoOxford rather earlier than usual. She intended going to the Lodgings atKing's before doing her shopping. Her reason for going to the Lodgingswas an interesting one. She had just had a letter from Lady BelindaScott, informing her that, even if she had been able to invite Gwendolenfor Monday, Gwendolen could not accept the invitation, as the dear childwas going to stay on at the Lodgings indefinitely. She was engaged to bemarried to the Warden! At this point in the letter Mrs. Potten put thepaper upon the breakfast table and felt that the world was grey. Mrs.Potten liked men she admired to be bachelors or else widowers, eitherwould do. She liked to feel that if only she had been ten years younger,and had not been so exclusively devoted to the memory of her husband,things might have---- She never allowed herself to state definitely,even to herself, what they might have----, but as long as they mighthave----, there was over the world in which Mrs. Potten moved andthought a subtle veil of emotional possibilities.
So he was engaged! And what exasperated Mrs. Potten, as she read on, wasLady Belinda's playful hints that Lady Dashwood (dear old thing!) hadmanoeuvred Gwendolen's visit in the first instance, and then kept herfirmly a prisoner till the knot was tied. Hadn't it been clever? Then asto the Warden, he was madly, romantically in love, and what could amother do but resign herself to the inevitable? It wasn't what she hadhoped for Gwen! It was very, very different--very! She must not trustherself to speak on that subject because she had given her consent andthe thing was done, and she meant to make the best of it loyally.
With this news surging in her head Mrs. Potten raced along the moistroadways towards the ancient and sacred city.
Lena ought to have told her about this engagement when they were sittingtogether in the rooms at Christ Church. It wasn't the right thing for anold friend to have preserved a mysterious silence, unless (Mrs. Pottenwas a woman with her wits about her) the engagement had been not LadyDashwood's plan, but exclusively Belinda's plan and the daughter's plan,and the Warden had been "caught"!
"A liar," said Mrs. Potten, as she stared gloomily out of the openwindow, "is always a liar!"
Mrs. Potten rang the door-bell at the Lodging and waited for the answerwith much warmth of interest. Suppose Lena was not at home? What shouldshe do? She must thrash out this matter. Lena would be certain to be athome, it was so early!
She _was_ at home!
Mrs. Potten walked upstairs, her mind agitated with mingled emotions,and also the hope of meeting the Warden, incidentally. But she did notmeet the Warden. He was not either coming up or going down, and Mrs.Potten found herself alone in the drawing-room.
She could not sit down, she walked up to the fireplace and staredthrough her glasses for a moment at the portrait. It was quite true thatthe man was a very good-looking Warden! Yes, but scarcely the sort ofperson she would have thought suitable to look after young men; and thenshe walked away to the window. She was framing in her mind the way inwhich she should open the subject of her call at this early hour. Shealmost started when she heard the door click, and turned round to seeLady Dashwood coming towards her.
"Dear one, how tired you look!" said Mrs. Potten; "and I really oughtnot to have come at this unholy hour----"
"It's not so early," said Lady Dashwood. "You know work begins in thishouse at eight o'clock in the morning."
"So much the better," said Mrs. Potten. "I don't like the modern latehours. In old days our Prime Ministers were up at six in the morningattending to their correspondence. When are they up now, I should liketo know? Well," she added, "I have come to offer you my congratulations.I got a letter this morning from Lady Belinda, telling me all about it.No, I won't sit down, I merely ran in for a moment."
Lady Dashwood did not smile. She simply repeated: "From Belinda, tellingyou all about it!"
Mrs. Potten noted the sarcasm underlying the remark.
"Humph!" said Mrs. Potten. "And you, my dear, said nothing yesterday,though we sat together for half an hour."
"They were not engaged till yesterday evening," said Lady Dashwood.
"Belinda writing yesterday speaks of this engagement having alreadytaken place," said Mrs. Potten; "but, of course, she is wrong."
"Yes," said Lady Dashwood.
"Ah!" cried Mrs. Potten, nodding her head up and down once or twice.
"Jim has gone to town this morning," said Lady Dashwood.
"To buy a ring?" said Mrs. Potten. "Well, I really ought to have broughtyou Lady Belinda's letter to read. She thinks you have got your heart'sdesire. That's _her_ way of looking at it."
Lady Dashwood made no answer.
"I never think lies are amusing," said Mrs. Potten, "when you know theyare lies. But you see, you never said a word. Well, well, so Dr.Middleton is engaged!"
"Yes, engaged," repeated Lady Dashwood.
"I'm afraid you're tired," said Mrs. Potten. "You did too muchyesterday."
"I'm tired," said Lady Dashwood.
"I always expected," said Mrs. Potten, "that the Warden would have foundsome nice, steady, capable country rector's daughter. But I suppose,being a man as well as a Warden, he fell in love with a pretty face,eh?" and Mrs. Potten moved as if to go. "Well, she is a lucky girl."
"Very lucky," said Lady Dashwood.
Then Mrs. Potten stared closely with her short-sighted eyes into herfriend's face and saw such resigned miseries there that Mrs. Potten felta stirring movement of those superficial emotions of which we havealready spoken.
"I could have wept for her, my dear," said Mrs. Potten, addressing animaginary companion
as she went through the court of the Warden'sLodgings to the car, which she had left standing in the street. "I couldhave wept for her and for the Warden--poor silly man--and he looks sowise," she added incredulously. "And," she went on, "she wouldn't say aword against the girl or against Belinda. Too proud, I suppose."
Just as she was getting into the car Harding was passing. He stopped,and in his best manner informed her that his wife had told him that theproceeds of the Sale amounted to ninety-three pounds ten shillings andthreepence.
"Very good," said Mrs. Potten; "excellent!"
"And we are much indebted to our kind friends who patronised the Sale."
Mrs. Potten thought of her Buckinghamshire collar and the shillingpincushion that she need not have bought.
"I shall tell my wife," said Harding, with much unction, "that you thinkit very satisfactory."
It did indeed seem to Mrs. Potten (whose income was in thousands) thatninety-three pounds, ten shillings and threepence was a very handsomesum for the purpose of assisting fifty or sixty young mothers of thepresent generation.
But she had little time to think of this for just by her, walking pasther from the Lodgings, came Miss Gwendolen Scott. Now, what was Mrs.Potten to do? Why, congratulate her, of course! The thing had to bedone! She called to Gwendolen, who came to the side of the car allblushes.
"She's pleased--that's plain," said Mrs. Potten to herself.
But Mrs. Potten was mistaken. Gwendolen's vivid colour came not from thecause which Mrs. Potten imagined. Gwendolen's colour came simply fromalarm at the sight of Mrs. Potten and Mr. Harding speaking to oneanother, and this alarm was not lessened when Mrs. Potten exclaimed--
"Mr. Harding has been telling me that you made ninety-three pounds, tenshillings and threepence from the Sale?"
"Oh, did we?" murmured Gwendolen, and her colour came and went away.
"We did, thanks to Mrs. Potten's purchases," said Harding, withobsequious playfulness, and he took his leave.
Then Mrs. Potten leaned over the car towards Gwendolen and whispered--
"I was waiting till he had gone, as I don't know if you intend allOxford to know----"
Gwendolen's lips were pouted into a terrified expression.
"Your engagement, I mean," explained Mrs. Potten.
Gwendolen breathed again, and now she laughed. Oh, why had she been sofrightened? That silly little affair of yesterday was over, it was deadand buried! It was absolutely safe, and here was the first real propercongratulations and acknowledgment of her importance.
"You've got a charming man, very charming," said Mrs. Potten.
Gwendolen admitted that she had, and then Mrs. Potten waved her hand andwas gone.
That morning, when Gwendolen had come down to breakfast, she wonderedhow she was going to be received, and whether she would have to waitagain for recognition as the future Mrs. Middleton. Breakfast had beenput half an hour later.
She had found Lady Dashwood and Mrs. Dashwood already at breakfast. TheWarden had had breakfast alone a little before eight. Lady Dashwoodcalled to her and, when she came near, kissed her, and said veryquietly--
"The Warden has told me."
And then Mrs. Dashwood smiled and stretched out her hand and said: "Ihave been allowed to hear the news."
And Gwendolen had looked at them both and said: "Thanks ever so much. Ican scarcely believe it, only I know it's true!"
However, the glamour of the situation was gone because the Warden's seatwas empty. He could be heard in the hall; the taxi could be heard andthe door slamming, and he never came in to say "Good-bye"! Still it wasall exhilarating and wonderfully full of hope and promise, andmysterious to a degree!
The conversation at breakfast was not about herself, but that did notmatter, she was occupied with happy thoughts. Now all this, everythingshe looked at and everything she happened to touch, was hers. Everythingwas hers from the silver urn down to the very salt spoons. The cup thatLady Dashwood was just raising to her lips was hers, Gwendolen's.
And now as she walked along Broad Street, after leaving Mrs. Potten, howgay the world seemed--how brilliant! Even the leaden grey sky wasjoyful! To Gwendolen there was no war, no sorrow, no pain! There was noworld beyond, no complexity of moral forces, no great piteous strugglefor an ideal, no "Christ that is to be!" She was engaged and was goingshopping!
It was, however, a pity that she had only ten shillings. That would notget a really good umbrella. Oh, look at those perfectly ducky gloves inthe window they were only eight and elevenpence!
Gwendolen stared at the window. Stopping to look at shop windows hadbeen strictly forbidden by her mother, but her dear mother was notthere! So Gwendolen peered in intently. What about getting those glovesinstead of the umbrella?
She marched into the shop, rather bewildered with her own thoughts. Thegloves were shown her by the same woman who had served Lady Dashwood aday or two ago, and who recognised her and smiled respectfully. Thegloves were sweet; the gauntlets were exactly what she preferred to anyothers. And the colour was right. Gwendolen was fingering her purse whenthe shopwoman said--
"Do you want to pay for them, or shall I enter them, miss?"
Gwendolen's brain worked. She was now definitely engaged, and in a fewweeks no doubt would be Mrs. Middleton; after that a bill of eight andelevenpence would be a trifle.
"Enter them, please," said Gwendolen, and she surprised herself byhearing her own voice asking for the umbrella department.
After this, problems that had in the past appeared insoluble, arrangedthemselves without any straining effort on her part; they juststraightened themselves out and went "right there."
She looked at a plain umbrella for nine and sixpence, and then examinedone at fifteen and eleven. Thereupon she was shown another attwenty-five shillings, which was more respectable looking and had a nicetop. It was clearly her duty to choose this, anything poorer would lowerthe dignity of the future Mrs. Middleton. Gwendolen was learning the"duties" she owed to the station in life to which God had called her.She found no sort of difficulty in this kind of learning, and it was farmore really useful than book learning which is proverbially deleteriousto the character. She had the umbrella, too, put down to Miss Scott,the Lodgings, King's College. When she got out of the shop theten-shilling note was still in her purse.
"I shall get some chocolates," she said. "A few!"
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