AT STREATHAM
ALL too swiftly the early autumn days slipped away for the
holiday-keepers at Teymouth. The evenings were growing much shorter
now, and a golden tinge was here and there noticeable on the woods
which made a background for the little sea-side village; blackberries,
too, were ripening fast, greatly to the satisfaction of the Wyndham
boys, who rambled far and wide in search of them.
It had been arranged for the Wyndhams to return to London on the
twelfth of September, and Mr. Wyndham had looked forward with the
keenest pleasure to the company of Dr. Reed at Teymouth for a week
or so before that date, but a few days before the one on which the
doctor and his wife had planned to arrive Ann received a letter from
home with the information that Mr. Luscombe, who had been away for his
holiday, had returned far from well and was now laid up with
pneumonia, so that it would be quite impossible for her father
to leave his practice at present; therefore, he and her mother had
decided to defer their visit to Devonshire till the following month.
Ann carried the news at once to her friends at the farm, who received
it with many expressions of regret.
"Father says Mr. Luscombe is not seriously ill," she explained, "I am
very glad of that; but it will be several weeks before he will be well
enough to work again. I expect father is very disappointed that he
cannot get away now, and mother, too. Oh, dear, I suppose I shall have
to travel all the way home by myself, and it is such a long journey!
Perhaps, though, Violet could meet me in London, if I remain with
Granny till nearly the beginning of the term."
"Could you not return with us to London?" suggested Mr. Wyndham. "You
might spend a few days at Streatham, and then you and Violet could go
back to Buford together."
"Oh, that would be a capital plan!" cried Violet, "oh, do come, Ann!"
"I should much like to," Ann replied, her face brightening; "but would
it be convenient?" she asked, as she fancied she saw a dubious
expression on Mrs. Wyndham's face.
"Oh, yes!" Mrs. Wyndham assured her hastily; "you would have to share
Madge's room, but you would not mind that, perhaps?" she said
inquiringly.
"Certainly not, if Madge does not—" Ann was commencing when Madge
sprang impetuously to her side, and interrupted her by flinging her
arms around her neck and giving her a friendly hug, exclaiming as she
did so:—
"Oh, what fun it will be! I slept with Ruth for months and months,
but when Violet came home I had to turn out for her. I do love having
someone to talk to. Mine is a very little room, Ann, but you aren't
very particular, are you?"
"No," replied Ann, smiling, "a very small space will do for me."
"I will write to your mother at once," said Mrs. Wyndham, "and we
shall soon hear what she and your father think of our plan."
Dr. and Mrs. Reed thought the plan a most excellent one and
immediately sent a reply to that effect. So it came to pass that when
the Wyndhams left Teymouth they took Ann with them. Ann felt parting
from her grandmother but the old lady, who had the visit of her son
and daughter-in-law to look forward to and was in good spirits on that
account, bade her a cheerful good-bye and spoke hopefully of their
meeting next year.
Nevertheless, Ann could not help feeling a little depressed during the
first part of the journey to London, for a year seemed a long time to
look forward to, and she knew it was most unlikely that she would see
her grandmother again before the expiration of that time. Long before
Bristol was reached, however, which was about half the distance they
had to travel, she was joining in the general conversation, apparently
as merry and happy as her companions, who, rather to their own
surprise, were eager now to get home.
"It was lovely at Teymouth, and it's very nice in a farm house in the
summer," observed Madge, "but it must be very dull in the winter,
I should think, when the weather is bad. I'm looking forward to see
Barbara, and she'll be glad to see us, I know."
"I hope she will have everything comfortable for us," remarked Mrs.
Wyndham, rather anxiously, "I wrote to her to get help to put the
house in order, but poor Barbara has no head for management, and, with
the best intentions in the world, she is a sad muddler."
Mr. Wyndham smiled on hearing this, and a humorous twinkle crept into
his eyes.
"Well, don't begin to worry, my dear," he said kindly, "we all know
what Barbara is, except Ann, and she will make allowances for her,
I've no doubt."
The travellers, being eight in number, had a compartment to
themselves, and the journey was made most comfortably. When Paddington
was reached they all declared they were not in the least tired; but,
by the time they arrived at Streatham they told a different tale.
Ann was secretly very curious to see Violet's home, and she looked
with considerable interest at the plain, freckled face of the girl
who stood on the doorstep broadly smiling a welcome. Barbara, who had
been sent to her home on board wages whilst the Wyndhams had been away
on their holiday, had not been sorry to get to work again; she had
done her best during the few days previous to the family's return
to put the house in good order, with the assistance of a charwoman,
and she was satisfied with the result of her labours.
Mrs. Wyndham was exceedingly pleased when she saw how nice everything
was looking. Several of the rooms had been repapered and repainted,
and, consequently, there was an air of freshness about the place which
was as delightful as it was novel; and Barbara had a substantial high
tea ready in the sitting-room, which the travellers were all ready
to fully appreciate.
Ann spent several days with the Wyndhams. She noticed at once how much
Mrs. Wyndham relied upon her eldest daughter in every way, and what
a busy life Ruth led, at the beck and call of everybody. It was
always, "I want you, Ruth," or "Ruth knows about that," or "You must
ask Ruth to help you," and so on; and Ruth never grumbled that it was
so, or said that she had too much to do, but was always willing and
cheerful.
"Things are much nicer and more comfortable in every way at home than
they used to be," Violet informed Ann confidentially, on one occasion
when they were alone together, "I really think it's all Ruth's doing.
She makes the boys pick up their playthings and won't let them worry
Barbara in the kitchen; she seems to superintend everything, doesn't
she? And then she gives Barbara a hint when her cap goes crooked, and
persuades her to take her time and not get 'in a rush!'" Ann smiled
understandingly, as Violet went on, "Oh, dear me, what a to-do it used
to be when Barbara was 'in a rush' She'd break the crockery in her
hurry to try to get ahead of the work, and she never used to get ahead
of it, she was always behind, and poor mother would cry when things
went wrong and she couldn't set them right. I was surprised when I
came home to find things so different, just as though some good fairy
had been at work. I think our good fairy is Ruth."
Ruth had certainly done her best to make her home more comfortable
and orderly since she had left school, and her efforts, which her
mother had been the first to appreciate and further, had met with more
success than she had dared to hope would be the case; she was full
of bright hopes for the future when her father would be in the
position to allow more money for the household expenses, and there
would not be such anxiety about meeting the bills.
The afternoon before Ann and Violet left Streatham for Buford they
were returning from a walk with Ruth and Madge when Violet drew Ann's
attention to a large, red brick house with bow windows, standing in
its own grounds, and informed her that it was Agnes Hosking's home.
"That's the sort of house Violet admires," Ruth remarked, with a
mischievous laugh, "it's quite ordinary on the outside, isn't it, but
I believe the interior is something extraordinary. Have you told Ann
how it is furnished, Vi?"
"No," returned Violet, colouring, "I have not—it would not interest
her at all; and I've changed my mind about wishing to live in a house
like that, Ruth, I should not care to have furniture that's too fine
to use and a drawing-room that's nothing but a showroom. By the way,
I do hope we shall not run against Agnes; I wonder if she's at home."
The words were scarcely out of Violet's mouth when, looking ahead,
she caught sight of a familiar figure coming towards them, and Madge
exclaimed, with excitement in her voice:—
"Why, here she is! Oh, girls, it's Agnes herself!"
"We cannot avoid meeting her," said Ruth, with a nervous glance
at Violet, whose bright colour had perceptibly lessened.
"Avoid meeting her?" echoed Ann, "why should you wish to do that?
Ah, she recognises us, I see!"
Agnes was close up to them now. She was staring hard at Ann, as though
she could scarcely believe she saw aright; a minute later she had
stopped in front of her, and was holding out her hand.
"Ann! Ann Reed!" she cried, in accents of intense surprise; "is it
really you?"
"Certainly," Ann replied, rather dryly, ignoring the outstretched
hand, whilst her companions moved on a few steps and stood waiting
for her.
"Fancy meeting you here! You must come to my house! Look, that is
where I live!" Agnes appeared excited. "Are you staying with the
Wyndhams?" she inquired in a lower tone.
"Yes; but I am going home to-morrow."
"Is Violet Wyndham to return to Barford with you?"
"Yes."
"Well, if you are leaving Streatham to-morrow you must certainly spare
me a little while this afternoon," Agnes said eagerly. "Do come in,"
she continued, nodding towards her home, "you can bring the Wyndhams
with you if you like, I don't mind."
"No, thank you—" Ann was beginning when Agnes interrupted her
by exclaiming:—
"Oh, you must come! Do come in all of you," she added pressingly,
raising her voice and addressing the three Wyndham girls, who,
however, showed not the least inclination to accept her invitation.
"No, thank you," Ruth said gravely, "we would rather not."
"Nonsense, nonsense!" cried Agnes, intent on gaining her own way.
"I want you to come with me and have some tea—all of you. I haven't
congratulated you yet on your father's new appointment," she went on,
looking pointedly at Violet, "I heard nothing about it till I came
home for the holidays. Let me congratulate you now. I hear it's a
splendid rise for your father; I'm sure I'm very glad, for it must
have been very disagreeable to have been so badly off, and being poor
makes people do things they'd never dream of doing if—"
"What do you mean?" broke in Violet, indignantly. "Are you trying
to insult us—to insult me?"
"No, no," Agnes assured her hastily, "indeed I am not! I was only
going to say that I wish bygones to be bygones, and that if you did
take my purse I forgive you; I am not one to bear malice, so let us be
friends."
"Agnes," said Violet, trying to speak calmly, "I don't understand why
you should wish to be friends with a girl you consider a thief. I see
now you really do believe that I robbed you, although you apologised
to me—and—and—oh how can you believe it? I have never set eyes on your
purse since I saw you put it in your muff the night you lost it."
"Surely you must see Violet is speaking the truth," said Ruth,
her voice trembling with anger, her face set and stern; "how dare you
suspect her of having taken your wretched purse?"
"It was not a wretched purse," Agnes retorted, "it was as handsome a
purse as you ever saw in your life, and it contained one pound, seven
shillings, and fivepence half-penny! But I've got over the loss of it
now—I mean I really don't care now whether Violet took it or not, for
father's given me a new one which I like just as well. Come, if I'm
willing to be friends, why can't you meet me half-way? You won't?
Well, I shan't bother about you any more, you Wyndhams always thought
too much of yourselves even when you were as poor as church mice! And
as for you, Ann Reed," she proceeded, her temper getting the better of
her as she read aright the contemptuous expression of Ann's usually
kind face, "who are you I should like to know—"
"I think you know very well who she is!" interrupted Madge, unable any
longer to keep from joining in the conversation.
"Yes, miss Pert, I do," Agnes replied, in a voice which was shrill
with rage. "I know she's the grand-daughter of an old woman who lives
in a cottage, an old woman who was nothing but a domestic servant
brought up to scrub and clean and do all sorts of menial work.
You cannot deny it, Ann Reed."
"Certainly I cannot, nor do I wish I could," rejoined Ann in a voice
which, though low in tone, was expressive of intense scorn.
"No wonder Dr. Reed keeps his mother down in Devonshire!" sneered
Agnes, "no wonder he's ashamed to have her to live at Barford!
What would his friends think of her—"
"It cannot concern you what my father's friends would think of my
grandmother," Ann interposed, with a light in her grey eyes which
warned Agnes she had said enough, "my grandmother is—but I will not
discuss her with you! I always knew you to be a mean-spirited girl,
but I never realised before to-day that you were so hopelessly vulgar
and—and contemptible. In one breath almost you admitted your belief
that Violet stole your purse and asked her into your house; you think
it may be worth while to keep in with her if her father is going to be
a successful man, and on that account you are ready to overlook an act
which, if she had committed it, would have put her on a par with a
common thief. Shame on you! I am beginning to understand you now, and
I tell you plainly I wish to have nothing to do with you. I consider
you are a girl to be avoided, and I am sure my friends agree with me."
Agnes winced perceptibly beneath the contempt with which Ann uttered
these words, and, as soon as the latter had finished speaking, she
quickly away, whilst the others, all very agitated, walked on for some
distance in complete silence.
"You have made an enemy, Ann, I fear," said Violet at length.
"You fear?" echoed Ann; "why should you fear? I think Agnes Hosking
is very like a nettle, she requires firm handling."
"She was abominably rude to you about your grandmother, Ann!" cried
Ruth wrathfully, "and it is dreadful that she should still believe
Vi stole her purse!"
"She judges Violet by her own standard," rejoined Ann, with a pitying
glance at Violet's quivering face. "Perhaps I ought not to have said
that," she went on, a moment later, "I have no right to suggest that,
in any circumstances, she would be a thief. Don't make a grief of this
unfortunate encounter of ours with Agnes, though, Violet; you must not
be unhappy on your last day at home."
"No, indeed," agreed Ruth, "that will never do. 'Truth will out,'
you know, dear Vi."
"I wish I could think so, Ruthie," Violet responded, with a deep-drawn
sigh. She was looking much upset, but she grew more cheerful before
she reached home, consoled by the heartfelt sympathy of her sisters
and her friend. "Don't tell mother we met Agnes and fell out with
her," she whispered, as they entered the house, "it would only trouble
her if she knew all that was said."
On that point they were all agreed, so Agnes Hosking's name was not
mentioned when they spoke of their walk, and Mrs. Wyndham, not being
very observant, failed to notice that something had gone wrong.