LITTLE THINGS
“Mrs. Sawyer says she will be proud and pleased to let us use her kitchen
for nothing,” Sydney said, “but we must pay her for the fire. She doesn’t
have one in the afternoons, as a rule. How much does a fire cost, Miss
Osric?”
The girl was puckering her brows over a business-like account book open
on the table before her. Miss Osric stood opposite, driving a great pair
of squeaking scissors through a double fold of flannel.
“We should want it for about two hours, shouldn’t we?” she said, in
answer to Sydney’s question. “It would probably cost about sevenpence a
time, but that depends upon the sort of coal Mrs. Sawyer has, and how big
a fire you mean to keep.”
“Fourteen pence—one and twopence a week,” Sydney said, noting the fact
down in her account book. “And then there is the tea,” she went on. “I
wonder how much that will cost? And I don’t suppose the people will be
able to pay much at first towards the stuff they use. They are so poor,
and one wants to help them.”
“Let them pay something towards it, Sydney,” said Miss Osric; “don’t make
paupers of them—that is a mistake. Say they pay half expenses.”
“Well, perhaps,” the girl said. “How many petticoats will that roll of
flannel make, do you think?”
“Not very many, and flannel is so dreadfully expensive; you will have to
use flannelette, I think.”
“No, it _must_ be flannel,” said Sydney. “I asked Dr. Lorry, and he
said rheumatic people should wear flannel. And you know how dreadfully
rheumatic they are here.”
There was another anxious calculation of accounts, which lasted until
Sydney, pulling out the lovely little gold watch which had been her
cousin’s present to her on her birthday, a day or two ago, found that it
was time to dress for going out with Lady Frederica.
The girl had lost no time on her return from that Christmas visit at the
Deanery in starting on her plans. Miss Osric proved a willing helper,
and Lady Frederica, approached judiciously at a favourable moment on the
subject, had raised no objection to the projected working-party. “Oh,
yes, amuse yourself as you like, my dear,” she said, “as long as you
don’t go about alone, or damage your complexion.”
And Sydney had joyfully availed herself of the permission to drive in to
Dacreshaw and order such materials as Miss Osric thought would be most
useful to the women of the village.
Sydney had no difficulty in persuading them to come, though at first they
found it hard to believe that anybody from the Castle was really going
to take an interest in their troubles. But Sydney’s bright face, as she
brought soup or invalid fare of some kind, coaxed out of Mrs. Fewkes,
the Castle cook, had grown familiar already in cottages where there was
illness, and they were beginning slowly to realize that the future Lady
St. Quentin held very different views from her cousin on the subject of
the tenantry who would be hers some day.
“There’ll be a good time coming when that little lady’s mistress here,”
they said to one another, and welcomed the idea of the working-parties
with enthusiasm.
All was to be as far as possible on the lines of Miss Morrell’s, and
Sydney set about buying just the same materials as those used by her
friend. But flannel, long-cloth, wool, and serge cost money, and she
found the small remains of her quarter’s allowance quite inadequate. Her
extensive Christmas purchases had reduced the amount, which had seemed at
first so inexhaustible, to a very small remnant by the time she set about
the shopping for this new scheme. Hence the anxious discussion with Miss
Osric over ways and means.
It never struck Sydney for one moment to apply for help to her cousin. He
had said he could do nothing for the cottages; clearly what was done must
be done by herself alone.
How did girls in story-books make money? She cast her mind over those
that she had read. The heroines of fiction seemed to have a habit of
painting the picture of the year, or writing a novel that took all London
by storm. Sydney felt quite certain of her inability to follow either
example.
Sometimes they were adopted by wealthy old gentlemen or ladies in search
of deserving heirs, but Sydney thought she had had enough of changing
her home! Sometimes they discovered treasure in places where even
newspaper editors would never think of hiding it. “It would be a great
deal easier if some of them did little things,” poor Sydney thought.
No solution of the problem had occurred to her by the date fixed for the
first working-party; when a plain but plentiful tea was spread on Mrs.
Sawyer’s dresser, and a somewhat meagre pile of unmade flannel petticoats
adorned the table.
Sydney received her guests a little shyly, but with so much real pleasure
in her face that they had no doubt of their welcome. She and Miss Osric
helped them to take off their shawls and jackets, which Mrs. Sawyer, a
sickly looking woman in a very clean apron, put away in the ill-drained
and ill-ventilated cupboard which she called the back kitchen.
Then came the distribution of garments to be made for themselves or
their children by the workers, and here poor Sydney found the demand for
flannel petticoats far exceeding her supply.
The women were exceedingly polite about it, and assured her that it did
not matter, but the girl felt she would have given anything to have had
enough for their wants.
Needlework, an accomplishment Lady Frederica had not asked for, was
one that Sydney had learnt “at the doctor’s,” and Miss Osric had had
plenty of experience in the cutting-out line in old days at her father’s
Vicarage. So everything went smoothly: conversation was much easier than
Sydney had expected it to be, and the women seemed to thoroughly enjoy
their tea. All would have been quite delightful to the girl, even though
the ill-ventilated kitchen was very close with so many people sitting
in it, and the damp of the uneven stone floor made her feet, in their
delicate Parisian boots, extremely cold, if it had not been for the
haunting thought of how she should procure the money necessary for the
carrying on of her scheme.
“Only the sixth of January,” she said dismally to Miss Osric, as the two
hurried down the village to the second working-party. “Only the sixth of
January to-day, and Quarter Day isn’t till the twenty-fifth of March.
What shall I do?”
“I wish I could help you,” said Miss Osric, “but you know I must send all
I can spare to them at home. It costs so much to send my brother Jack to
Oxford, and there are Dorothy and Hilda who ought to go to school as soon
as we can manage it.”
“Oh, I know!” cried Sydney. “I wouldn’t have you help in the money way
for anything; just think what an amount of the other kind of help you are
giving!” And they went into Mrs. Sawyer’s cottage and discussed the money
question no more.
An observation of Lady Frederica’s next day gave Sydney the idea for
which she was longing. Sir Algernon, who had been in town since Sydney’s
return from the Deanery, came back that morning, and announced at
luncheon that the Castle clocks were all behind London time. Sydney,
eager to establish the perfections of her new watch, pulled it out
triumphantly to inform the company that in that case her treasure was
correct, for St. Quentin had declared it only that morning to be rather
fast.
Its beauty caught Lady Frederica’s eye. “Dear me, child!” she said, “is
that the watch St. Quentin gave you on your birthday. What a little
beauty! But how extravagant of him, when he was speaking to me quite
seriously only a day or two ago about retrenching!”
“Poor old chap, is he feeling pinched?” Sir Algernon said lightly. “There
are moments, Lady Frederica, when I bless the luck that gave me a title
unencumbered by a property to keep going. May I see the watch, Miss
Lisle?” He spoke with a new inflection in his voice which did not escape
Lady Frederica. “Yes, it _is_ a beauty and no mistake. I expect they
rooked old Quin something heavy for that.”
“It was _very_ kind of St. Quentin,” Sydney said, and Sir Algernon
murmured, “Lucky beggar!” in a tone the girl found hard to understand.
The conversation turned on other topics, but Sydney did not forget it,
and, after much screwing up of her courage, went into the library a day
or two later, having previously watched Sir Algernon off on a ride.
“St. Quentin,” she said, feeling very much astounded by her own daring,
“I’ve come to ask a favour of you; and please—_please_ be very kind, and
don’t ask any questions or be angry when you hear what I want. Do say
you’ll be kind!”
“Well, that’s a nice modest request, anyhow,” her cousin said, smiling a
little. “What awful things have you been doing? Oh, of course, I’m not
to ask. If you were a boy I should guess you to be in a scrape, but girls
keep clear of those things, don’t they?”
“Don’t laugh,” said Sydney; “at least, I would rather you laughed than
were angry. St. Quentin, _please_ don’t think me horribly ungrateful, but
may—can I change the watch you gave me on my birthday?”
“What, don’t you like it?” said St. Quentin slowly.
“Oh, I do! I do!” she cried; “but, please, you _said_ you wouldn’t ask
questions, and I want to change it!”
“Who will do the job for you?” her cousin said. “I ordered the watch from
Oliver’s in Donisbro’, if you wish to know; but mind, I won’t have you
poking about changing things yourself.”
“Miss Osric said she knew her father would change it for me, if you gave
permission,” said Sydney. “St. Quentin, I can see you are vexed.”
“No, I’m not,” he said, a little bit impatiently, “but I should like to
get at the bottom of this, Sydney. Can’t you tell me straight out what’s
wrong?”
“No, I couldn’t,” she assured him, “and nothing is wrong really, on my
honour! Miss Osric knows all about it, and she is _ever_ so wise and
experienced!”
“A Methuselah of twenty-three years, isn’t she?” St. Quentin said,
smiling despite his vexation. “Well, Sydney, I suppose I must let you go
your own way. Put the matter into the hands of your mentor’s father, and
have nothing personally to do with it, that’s all.”
If it cost Sydney a pang to part with her treasured watch, and it did
undoubtedly, she was more than repaid by the look upon the women’s
faces as they saw the noble pile of flannel garments laid out for their
benefit. Mr. Osric had done his part well, and obtained for Sydney very
nearly the full value of the watch, after some argument with Mr. Oliver,
who declared that he “never took back an article when sold.”
He was, however, speedily rewarded for yielding by a gentleman with light
blue eyes and a monocle, who had been turning over scarf pins at the
other end of the shop during Mr. Osric’s transaction.
This gentleman came closer to Oliver, when Mr. Osric had gone out, and
requested to be allowed to examine the little watch the clergyman had
left behind him. After a brief but careful examination he asked the
price, and bought it, leaving Mr. Oliver, who knew Sir Algernon Bridge
well enough by sight, to shrewdly surmise that a “single gentleman who
bought a lady’s watch must shortly be intending to be married.”