Leaving a defiant maid-servant and a nervous child on the top landing,
Hannah descended to the one below, where she found Wilfrid waiting for
her in his bedroom doorway and listening, between apprehension and
amusement, to the sounds in Ethel's room. These were the banging of
drawers and the rattling of their handles under the shock, and Ethel's
footsteps thudding stubbornly across the floor, and Wilfrid made a
gesture in their direction, and whispered, 'Come in for a minute.'
'I can't. I must get your uncle's tea.'
'Let him wait! He's been to the Spenser-Smiths' and had a jolly good
supper. He came back in their car. I heard it at the gate. He'll be
purring like a well-fed cat. As for you, Mona Lisa, you look like a
stray one.'
'I do feel rather lost. I think I'll ask Mr. Samson if he's got room
for me among the others.'
'And it's all my fault,' Wilfrid sighed, dramatically running his
fingers through his hair. 'But why the deuce shouldn't I walk home with
a girl? It's no more than common courtesy. And if I held her hand a bit
longer than was necessary, what's that to Ethel?'
'Nothing at all I should think. Don't distress yourself,' Hannah said
coldly. 'There's been trouble with Doris.'
'All right, Mona Lisa, all right! I can see you're thinking I'm a
conceited puppy. Have it your own way. But that doesn't account for
her running like a hare when she saw me. And what's Doris been doing?'
'Walking out with a young man, I believe.'
'And I caught you flirting with old Samson! My word, we have been going
it! Wouldn't the uncle be pleased! He's a bit morbid about intercourse
between the sexes. Of course he approves of marriage, but the
preliminaries make him sick. I call it an objectionable characteristic.
How did he get married himself? But then, anything the uncle does is on
a higher plane! I suppose,' he said slyly, 'you haven't noticed that?'
Hannah's face lost all expression. That was her answer to Wilfrid
and her own resistance to temptation. 'And what about your own
preliminaries, as you call them?' she asked. 'Are you engaged to the
young woman?'
'Engaged! Don't be simple!'
'Well, in my young days, if we held hands we meant something by it.'
'Oh, we meant something, I assure you. And how dull your young days
must have been, poor Mona Lisa.'
'No,' said Hannah, 'they weren't, because I wasn't. It isn't the days
that are dull, it's the people who can't see them properly. What
on earth do you think I should do in this house if I couldn't make
amusement for myself?'
'Oh, come, I do my best, but you've got a professional conscience. I
admire you for it, but it doesn't deceive me. Not in the least. Let's
exchange views about the uncle, Mona Lisa. It would do us both all the
good in the world.'
'I can't stay long enough,' Hannah said, 'But I'll tell you one thing
you'll like.' She smiled at him very sweetly. 'There's a remarkably
strong family likeness between you and him. Not in the face. In the
character,' and with that, and a spiteful little grimace across her
shoulder, she left him, and forgot her mendacious triumph as she heard
Ethel shut her wardrobe door with a vicious bang.
What was she to do with this family? she asked herself, as she ran down
the stairs. And why should she stay? She was not so old or so useless
that she could not get another post, but she remembered Ruth, snuggling
under the bed-clothes and saying childishly, 'Whatever did I do without
you?' and she remembered her compact with Mrs. Corder.
'I'll make a job of it,' she said, rapidly preparing Mr. Corder's tray,
and she carried it into his study with secret pomp, as though, in this
ritual, she dedicated herself to the family's service.
Robert Corder made a handsome figure, standing on the hearthrug, with
his head thrown back and some of the urbanity, fit for a visit to the
Spenser-Smiths', still beaming from him, and at the sight of him,
Hannah's faith in her resolutions failed her. She could deal with
hysteria, she could help those she pitied, but, in the presence of
this man, could she sustain her character of industrious nonentity?
Something alive seemed to turn in her breast. It was the demon of
mischief who lay there; he was stretching himself in lazy preparation
for action and, if she was not careful, he would presently express
himself in speech. Perhaps, she thought, a little, a very little,
liberty would be good for him: if she kept him too quiet, he would
suddenly get out of control, and there would be an end to her high
endeavours for the family. The best thing, she decided swiftly, was to
be natural: that would satisfy the demon and it was the golden rule
for manners, but if she obeyed it at this moment, she would throw the
teapot at Mr. Corder's head. She had had a tiring day and he stood
there, like a large healthy animal waiting to be fed, and made no
movement to relieve her of the tray.
'If you would kindly take those books off the table,' she said
politely, 'I shall be able to put this down.'
He looked at his watch before he obliged her. 'Half-past ten,' he said.
'Is that all?' Hannah said pleasantly. 'I thought it was abut eleven,'
and before he had time to make one of the several retorts that must
have occurred to him, she exclaimed 'And now I've forgotten the
biscuits!'
'Don't trouble about them, Miss Mole. I had supper with Mr. and Mrs.
Spenser-Smith.'
She recognised the cue for a murmur of congratulation or envy, but she
chose to miss it. 'Then, if you don't want them, I'll say good night,
Mr. Corder.'
'Just a moment, Miss Mole. Mrs. Spenser-Smith expressed some surprise
that you had not been to see her. I think it would be courteous to pay
her that attention.'
'Then I'll try to pop in some afternoon, when I'm having a walk.'
Robert Corder's quick little frown, like Ruth's, but different in its
causes, came and went. 'Her At Home day is the first Friday in the
month.'
'Does she have an At Home day?' Hannah asked with a wide smile. 'I
thought that was unfashionable. Then I can't go till December.'
'You misunderstand me,' he said gently. 'It might be better for you to
avoid that day.'
'Yes, they're dreary occasions, aren't they? Thank you for telling me.
Good night.'
She knew she would be called back when she reached the door.
'Another thing, Miss Mole. I shall be asking a gentleman to supper next
week. I think Thursday would be the best day. He has just taken up the
ministry of Highfield Chapel--a small place, but I suppose he considers
it promotion--and I feel we ought to do what we can to welcome him. You
will bear that in mind, won't you?'
'Yes,' Hannah said. 'Do you want anything special to eat?'
'I can safely leave that to you, I'm sure. In fact, I think I ought to
say how much I appreciate the care you have given to our meals.'
'I'm glad you're pleased,' she said sincerely. If he was not obtuse, he
was generous, and she smiled as she spoke; then her eyes, leaving his
face, fell on that of Mrs. Corder who was listening attentively to all
they said, and Hannah persuaded herself that Mrs. Corder was glad to
think of Ruth, upstairs in the dove-cot, and trusted Hannah to do what
she could for Ethel. 'And, by the way,' Hannah said, 'is the minister
married?'
Mr. Corder's annoyance expressed itself in a somewhat sickly smile.
'Always the first question!' he exclaimed. 'But is it of any real
importance to you, Miss Mole?'
'Of great importance,' she replied, 'because I suppose, if he is, he
will bring his wife.'
Robert Corder turned away quickly. 'No, no, he's not married,' he said.
She looked at his back almost tenderly. The poor man could not open
his mouth without betraying himself and though she had said nothing
at which he could reasonably take offence, perhaps she had given him
something to think about, and her demon had had his little outing and
she had a soothing draught to offer Ethel when she carried up a cup of
hot milk and knocked at her door.
It was a little while before she gained admittance. She had the
impression that everything Ethel possessed was being hurriedly
concealed in drawers and cupboards and, when she entered, there were
still signs of disorder in the room.
'Don't worry about Doris,' she said at once. 'I'll have a few words
with her in the morning. It will be easier for me than for you. And
drink this while it's hot.' She tried to avoid looking at Ethel's
scarred face, but Ethel showed no more shame than she had shown
control. 'I'm all in favour of walking out, but I should like to know
something about the young man.'
'She ought to have told me!' Ethel exclaimed. 'I've been so good to
her!'
'Yes,' Hannah said, 'it's a mistake to be good to people, if you're
hoping for reward, because you won't get it. It would have been better
for both of you if you'd tried to train her. You'll feel ashamed of
her, to-morrow week, when she slams the dishes on the table. Did you
know your father is asking a minister to supper?'
Ethel, who had been restive under reproof, rolling her eyes and
threatening to bolt, steadied herself as Hannah produced this carrot.
'A minister! Who is it?'
'I don't know,' Hannah said carelessly. 'Some young man who's got a new
cure of souls--if you have such things in your denomination. Anyhow, I
hope he'll cure them.'
'Then it must be the new minister at Highfield Chapel.'
'That's the man. We shall have to kill the fatted calf, I suppose,'
Hannah said, and she wished it was possible to put a love potion into
the ginger-beer which was the Corders' festal beverage. Ethel loved,
and married to a minister, would be a useful member of society, and he
must have his fatted calf, so he must think Ethel had cooked it and, in
the meantime, a week of tranquillity for the family was assured.
An hour later she lay in Ruth's bed, considering the events of the
past day. She thought of them, one by one, extracting from them all
their savour, whether sweet or bitter. There was her walk on the hill
overlooking the water, with the bright tree showing through a grey
mist which seemed to darken when the wings of a swooping gull flashed
through it: there was the sound of unseen ships hooting or booming at
the turn of the river and, at her will, she had been able to imagine
them as huge amphibians, calling to each other as they floundered in
the water and sought the hidden banks, or she could acknowledge them
as the sirens of ships which were coming home from distant places or
setting out on fresh voyages, and standing up there with the soft rain
on her face, she had marvelled at the richness of human life in which
imagination could create strange beasts though facts were sufficient
in themselves, while she, who had the privilege of these experiences,
had no ache or pain in the whole of her lithe body and no more troubles
than were good for her.
She had a feeling of sovereignty while she stood there; she could make
what she liked of her world. She was more than a sovereign; she was a
magician, changing ships into leviathans with some tiny adjustment of
her brain, and, in addition, she had a freedom such as, surely, no one
else in all Radstowe could claim, for she was in possession of herself
and did not set too great a value on it.
In this high mood, she had swung down from her perch above the rocks
and kept her fine content until she came upon Ruth, near Regent
Square, and remembered her old ulster and realized, with a pang, that a
part of her belonged to Ruth. She had given it willingly and could not
withdraw it and she had increased her gift before the day was over.
It had been the most eventful day of her sojourn with the Corders and,
in an existence like hers, where excitements outside herself came
seldom, it seemed wasteful to have such a walk, to seal her friendship
with Ruth, interview Mr. Blenkinsop, witness Ethel's abandonment
and Doris's impudence, talk to Mr. Samson over the hedge and get a
compliment from Robert Corder and news about a minister, in one day.
'This is extravagance,' she murmured.
There were no more sounds from Ethel's room, and as Hannah turned on
her other side to sleep, she saw that the door communicating with
Robert Corder's room was framed in gold. Then that border slowly
changed its shape, widening at the top and side, and his figure was
silhouetted against the light. She lay still and stiff and shut her
eyes. She heard him advance a step and felt his silent, swift retreat.
He shut the door as quietly as he had opened it and the gold band was
round it, as though it had never stirred.
'What will he make of this?' she wondered, pressing her mouth against
the pillow. There would be trouble in the morning, but it would be
something to tell Lilla when she paid her call, avoiding the first
Friday of the month. Yes, with some amplifications, it would make a
very good story, and while she amplified it and planned a fit and
reasonable reply to any complaint Robert Corder might make, she felt a
new kindness for a man who could steal into a room so gently to look at
his little daughter.