MRS. BROWN'S INVITATION
"MOTHER," said Agnes Brown one fine spring afternoon on her return
from school, "I wish you would let me ask Melina Berryman to tea next
Saturday. I'm sure she'd like to come."
"Very well," Mrs. Brown agreed, "I shall be very pleased to see her,
poor little girl."
Mother and daughter were together in the comfortable parlour of their
home, which was a small house in a side street of the town, a street
called Gladstone Street. The Brown family comprised father, mother,
and three children, the eldest of whom was Agnes, the other two being
boys. Mr. Brown was a junior clerk employed in the booking-office
at the railway station; and his wife before her marriage had been
a dressmaker, so that she was able to make all her own and Agnes'
clothing, which allowed them to be better dressed than they could
otherwise have been. The Browns had only been living in Hawstock
since the previous autumn, when Mr. Brown had been shifted from a
town some distance away to his present post; consequently they had
few acquaintances in the place. Mrs. Brown had never yet seen Melina,
but she had heard from her little daughter that she lived with an old
grandmother who was anything but kind to her.
"Thank you, mother," Agnes said. She hesitated, then proceeded: "I
wonder what you will think of Melina and if you will like her. You will
say she is very shabby, I know. She's grown out of her winter jacket,
and it's so tight for her that she can hardly fasten it; and she wears
such a dreadful old hat."
"No doubt her grandmother is very poor and cannot afford her good
clothes," remarked Mrs. Brown; "you have never been to her home, have
you?"
Agnes shook her head. "No," she replied, "and I'm sure I don't want to,
because they say at school that Mrs. Berryman is a wicked old woman."
"Wicked!" Mrs. Brown looked rather startled. "What do you mean, Agnes?"
she inquired.
"I hardly know," the little girl admitted, "but I believe she drinks—"
"Oh dear, dear!" broke in Mrs. Brown.
"Melina can't help it if she does, mother," Agnes cried hastily.
"No, poor child, of course not. If this is true I am very, very sorry
for her, but, on second thoughts, perhaps before you ask her here to
tea I had better make some inquiries about her grandmother. I'll speak
to your father, and ask him to find out what is known about her."
"Oh, mother!" exclaimed Agnes, looking very disappointed. "If you find
out that it is true—that Melina's grandmother does drink—what then? You
won't want me to give up going to Sunday school with her, will you? No
one has anything to do with her but me, except to make fun of her."
Agnes had been attracted to Melina at first because she had pitied her,
but there was a warmer feeling in her heart for her than pity now.
During the last two months she and Melina had attended Sunday school
together regularly, and a friendship had sprung up between them which
surprised their other schoolfellows.
"You may be sure I shall not stop your going to Sunday school with
Melina," Mrs. Brown said, "but do not ask her to tea till I have spoken
to your father. You see, my dear, if she comes here you will probably
be invited to her home afterwards, and—"
"Oh no, I don't think so!" Agnes interposed; "Melina says her
grandmother never sees anyone except on business."
"On business? What business?"
"I don't know—Melina doesn't know either."
Mrs. Brown was about to put more questions, but at that minute her
little sons returned from school, and no more was said about Mrs.
Berryman then. Later in the evening she asked her husband to try to
find out all he could about the old woman, which he accordingly did,
with the result that they both felt regretful that an intimacy should
have sprung up between their little daughter and Melina Berryman.
"You say that Mrs. Berryman is addicted to bouts of drunkenness, and
that she is supposed to carry on business as a money-lender!" exclaimed
Mrs. Brown, in accents of dismay, when she had heard all her husband
had to tell. "How shocking! And I thought she was so poor!"
Mr. Brown shook his head. "At any rate she is able to lend money, I
am informed," he said, then went on to explain. "She does business
in this way: she will lend sixpence on Monday and have it repaid to
her with another sixpence added to it at the end of the week. That's
usury, of course, and, as you may imagine, her dealings are all with
very poor people. I'm told she's a grasping, conscienceless old woman;
and I can't help wishing that Agnes had not taken this fancy to her
grandchild."
"I wish the same," Mrs. Brown answered, with a troubled sigh, "for we
know what Agnes is—very affectionate and kind-hearted; she wants me to
ask Melina here to tea on Saturday, but—" She broke off and looked at
her husband doubtfully.
Mr. Brown looked doubtful too. He realised that Mrs. Berryman's
granddaughter could not, by any possibility, be well brought up at
home; but at the same time he felt that they ought not to allow that
fact to prejudice them against her.
"I see what it is," he said at length; "you don't know whether or not
we ought to allow a friendship between our little maid and this Melina.
Well, can't you ask some one's advice upon this point?—some one who
knows the child?"
Mrs. Brown's face brightened at this suggestion.
"I'll speak to Mr. Blackmore," she said; "he knows her. Agnes told
me the other day that it was to please him that Melina first went to
Sunday school, and that he always stops to talk to her when they meet."
Mr. Blackmore, who was doing the work of a curate in the way of
visiting in the parish, had called on the Browns a few days previously.
Mrs. Brown regretted that she had not thought of speaking of Melina
Berryman to him then; but she might possibly meet him out of doors
before very long, she reflected, in which case she would certainly do
so.
"You cannot have Melina Berryman here to tea this Saturday," she told
Agnes, "but I won't say that she shall not come a little later on."
With that Agnes had to be satisfied, but she looked and felt
exceedingly disappointed.
On every occasion now when Mrs. Brown did her shopping she kept a look
out for Mr. Blackmore, but she did not see him for some days. One
afternoon, however, she was tempted by the bright spring weather to
take a walk on the outskirts of the town, and, as she turned the corner
which brought her to Jubilee Terrace, she saw Mr. Blackmore enter one
of the cottages.
"I'll wait about and speak to him when he comes out," she thought, and
proceeded to stroll up and down the pavement before the cottages. By
and by she noticed a shabbily-clad little girl hurrying along towards
her, followed by a group of small boys who were amusing themselves by
laughing at her and calling her names.
Mrs. Brown paused, and the boys noticing the disapproval on her
countenance, grew suddenly silent; but as soon as they had passed
and believed her to be out of hearing, they commenced jeering at the
little girl again, calling her "Saint Melina," evidently in the hope of
provoking her to wrath.
"So that is Melina Berryman," Mrs. Brown said to herself; "what a shame
of those boys to tease the poor child like that!"
She began to retrace her footsteps, intending to interfere; but at that
instant the little girl reached her home, and, turning on the doorstep,
faced her tormentors, her lips firmly closed, though her eyes were full
of tears and her cheeks crimson. For a minute she looked at the boys
steadily, in silence; the next she opened the door and disappeared
within the cottage, whilst the boys, seeing Mrs. Brown intended to
reprimand them, immediately made off.
Mrs. Brown stood outside the closed door of the Berrymans' cottage,
which was next to the one which she had seen Mr. Blackmore enter, and
waited. Presently a blue-eyed, fair-haired boy came whistling round
the corner of the street. He glanced curiously at Mrs. Brown as he
approached her, and, apparently thinking that she was waiting for
admittance, volunteered the information that if Mrs. Berryman did not
wish to be seen she would not answer the door however loudly anyone
knocked.
"Then you know her—and her granddaughter?" questioned Mrs. Brown.
"I know Melina," he answered, "but I've never spoken to old Mrs.
Berryman and don't want to. Melina's not a bad sort altogether—lately
she's quite turned over a new leaf, since she took to going to Sunday
school to please the little gentleman."
"The little gentleman?" Mrs. Brown repeated inquiringly.
"That's what she always calls Mr. Blackmore—the new lay-helper. She's
changed a lot since she knew him. The boys about call her 'Saint
Melina' now, because when they tease her, instead of answering back and
using dreadful language like she used to do, she won't speak a word. I
suppose you know Melina Berryman, ma'am?"
"No, but I mean to," Mrs. Brown replied, suddenly coming to that
determination. "I'm waiting here to see Mr. Blackmore, who's gone in
next door," she explained.
"That's where I live," the boy informed her; "I'm called William Jones.
Have you been waiting long?"
"About ten minutes, I should think. But do tell me all you know about
Melina Berryman, there's a good boy. I hope you don't tease her."
William Jones grew very red, and shuffled his feet uneasily. "I don't
now," he replied, "because—well, I'm sorry for her; so you'd be if you
heard her grandmother beating her sometimes. I can't say that Melina
and I are friends though," he admitted candidly.
At this point the conversation was interrupted by the appearance of Mr.
Blackmore on the doorstep of the Jones' cottage. Mrs. Jones, who had
opened the door for her visitor, retreated at the sight of a stranger,
and Mr. Blackmore, immediately recognising Mrs. Brown, went and spoke
to her, whilst William withdrew a little distance out of hearing.
Mrs. Brown explained to Mr. Blackmore that she had been waiting to see
him and why, and after they had a long talk about Melina, the result
of which was that when Mr. Blackmore moved on Mrs. Brown turned and
knocked, rather timidly it must be admitted, upon Mrs. Berryman's door.
Several minutes passed, but no one appeared in response to the knock.
Then Mrs. Brown knocked again, louder this time, and yet again. At
length the door opened a few inches, and a harsh voice inquired who was
there.
"My name is Brown," Mrs. Brown answered; "I wish to see Mrs. Berryman.
May I speak to her for a minute?"
"I am Mrs. Berryman. Do you want me on business?"
"I want to ask you to allow your granddaughter to come to tea with my
little girl on Saturday. My little girl is called Agnes Brown; she goes
to Sunday school with your granddaughter."
The door opened wider, revealing Mrs. Berryman with Melina close behind
her. The child's dark eyes were sparkling with expectation.
"Do let her come," Mrs. Brown went on persuasively; "you would like to,
wouldn't you, my dear?" she questioned, smiling at Melina.
"Oh yes, yes!" the little girl cried. "Oh, Gran, let me go—do let me
go!"
"You can if you like," the old woman said ungraciously; "you've more
friends than I knew."
She turned away from the door as she spoke, and Melina coming forward,
said very earnestly, with a grateful ring in her voice:
"How kind you are! just like Agnes! I was never invited out to tea
before!"