MRS. ANSTRUTHER.
WHEN Ellen awoke, it was really one o'clock, but she fancied that
she had dozed for about half an hour. So, getting up, she washed and
dressed in a leisurely way, and went downstairs. In the kitchen she
found Hannah, sitting near the fire in a most uncomfortable attitude,
but fast asleep, while the baby was fast asleep in his basket, and a
horrid smell as of burnt meat proceeded from the oven. Ellen ran to
rescue the dinner; the noise of opening the oven roused Hannah, and it
was really comical to see how heartily ashamed of herself she was.
"If you'll believe me, Ellen, I only sat down for five minutes, just to
rest. When did I ever burn a roast to cinders before?"
"Oh, there's enough for dinner not burnt. But, Mrs. Rule dear, why do
you want dinner so early?"
"Early, child? Why, 'tis two o'clock, or very near it. And I meant to
call you at one, but, you see, I didn't."
"Two o'clock! Why, it really is, and I thought I had slept for perhaps
half an hour. How's the baby?"
"As right as a trivet, the little beauty. Just look," tenderly lifting
the blanket, "did you ever see a lovelier child?"
And the pair—true women both—went down on their knees, one on each side
of the basket, to admire the baby, letting their burnt mutton cool for
quite ten minutes. Then, as they dined, Ellen had to be told the story
of the child's hunger, and the bottle, and Mr. Holcroft.
"But, oh, dear, what shall we do if he leaves you?" said Ellen.
"He won't do that; we'll take care the child doesn't annoy him. But if
he must go, why, he must. He's not master here, to give his orders like
that."
"Oh dear me, think of my forgetting all this time to tell you about
Mrs. Cartwright. She was very bad when I was there."
"I knew it, child. I was there soon after you left, but I came home by
Albany Street, because Miss Mildred wanted something from the shops.
I went, because I had good news for them. Mrs. Anstruther promised
to send a letter and help for the present, and to take care of Miss
Mildred in the future. And glad I was that I went! It's my belief that
Miss Mildred had spent nearly her last penny. I coaxed her to let me
order in some things, knowing that Mrs. Anstruther won't fail. Poor
Mrs. Cartwright said that now she could die in peace, knowing that Miss
Mildred has a friend."
"You would have taken care of her," said Ellen.
"And how many more do you want me to take care of, Ellen? But, indeed,
I'd rather have to do with Miss Mildred than with that roaring lad in
the basket; how you slept through the noise he made is to me a mystery.
But, you know, Miss Mildred is a lady, and Mrs. Anstruther can give a
home fit for her. Mrs. Cartwright was nearly gone. She's not alive now,
I'm afraid. A good woman, if ever there was one."
"Let us go and see how things are," said Ellen. "Miss Mildred would be
so lonely."
"Let us go? And please, ma'am, what about the baby? Now you see what
nonsense it would be to keep him. The two of us could never be out
together—and what would become of your going with me as my 'prentice?"
"Well, you go to Miss Mildred, you'll be of more use to her than I
could. And I'll wash up and take care of the baby."
"I'll go, but first we must get him up and feed him. I must show you
how to do that. But you must see, Ellen, that it would not do. It
couldn't go on."
"It would be only for a little time," pleaded Ellen; "he won't be a
baby always."
"But I hardly think people would let me bring 'two' apprentices, one to
mind the other. However, I'm sure we shall find his father and mother.
He's not a child to be lost without being searched for. I must see the
police about him, and buy a newspaper in case there's an advertisement,
and must get some tacks of clothes for him, for decency's sake. He
can't live in the basket with only a shawl to wear. I need not get
much, and his people will pay it back, no doubt."
Baby, being refreshed, was returned to his basket, and fell asleep with
a delusive appearance of intending to sleep for hours. Yet Hannah was
but just gone, when that deceitful infant woke up, and began to stretch
his limbs and double up his tiny fists, and pummel his nose and eyes
with them; finally, he whimpered.
Ellen knelt beside him, and patted him—he cooed in the most entrancing
manner, but when she withdrew, he roared. Plainly, a baby who liked
attention and expected it. Finally, he kicked about in a manner so
lively and alarming that she every moment expected to see the basket
upset, so she took him up, awkwardly enough, for she had been too young
while in Armine's Trust to be given the care of a baby. However, he was
pleased, and smiled all over his face, as babies do.
But as to washing up, or doing a single thing beyond amusing the child
and trying to keep the shawl over the white skin, she found it quite
impossible.
As Hannah expected, Mrs. Cartwright had died during the night. Mrs.
Anstruther's letter had arrived, anxiety about money was over, and poor
Mildred was asleep, quite worn out. Hannah and Mrs. Green made all the
necessary arrangements for the funeral, and they also settled that when
it was over, Mildred should go home with Hannah until Mrs. Anstruther
decided as to what she was to do. Hannah wrote to Mrs. Anstruther,
telling her how matters now stood.
Hannah then went to the police office to tell her story about the
baby. She was assured that every effort should be made to trace the
old woman, and that advertisements should be circulated. The police
sergeant walked home with Hannah to see Ellen and question her; also to
see the baby.
"Of course we can take the child to the workhouse if you can't keep it,
ma'am, but, if you can put up with it for a bit, we may find out who
owns it. You say you don't think it is a poor person's child?"
"I think not, and so does Dr. Jephson. Wait a moment here for me. I
want to buy some clothes for it. Not a rag had it on, but a dirty old
shawl, that I suppose belongs to the old woman."
Hannah made her purchases, and then went home, escorted by the tall
sergeant, to Ellen's great dismay, for she concluded that he would at
once take possession of the child. Hannah left the sergeant in the
parlour, while she opened her parcel and hastily dressed the baby—who
bore it better than babies often do. Then she gave it to Ellen to
carry, while she took the red shawl, or its poor remains, out of the
tub into which she had bundled it, wrung it out hastily, and carried it
to the parlour.
"Here's the child, Sergeant Boxer; and you don't often see a finer one."
"How old should you say he is, ma'am?"
"About six months, I suppose. If he's less, he's a very big child."
Then she produced the wet shawl. "Here's the red shawl," said she.
"Oh, ma'am, you shouldn't have washed it, ma'am. It's all we have to go
on!"
"Indeed, then, you couldn't well have less. But I haven't torn it.
As to keeping it in my kitchen, or even in my dustbin—no, thank you
kindly."
"And this is the young lady who let the old woman make her a present!"
said Sergeant Boxer, and proceeded to ask Ellen several questions
civilly enough. Yet he was evidently much amused by her simplicity, and
she was as red as the ragged shawl before he had done with her.
"Well, Mrs. Rule, we will do all that can be done. I'll take the—"
"Oh no, don't!" cried Ellen. "We'll take better care of him than you
can."
"The shawl, I mean, miss. Some of our men may reckanize it."
"You'd have had a better chance of that if I'd left it dirty," said
Hannah, proudly regarding her handy-work as she shook it out and folded
it.
"No doubt of that, ma'am. We'll let you know if anything turns up; and
you'll keep the child awhile on the chance?"
"Yes, for a week or two I will," said Hannah.
And the sergeant departed.
"Well, that matter's settled. I have bad news for you, Ellen. Mrs.
Cartwright is gone, as I was afraid it would be. And Miss Mildred is
in bed; she's half dead with nursing and sitting up. There's no use in
your going to her just now, but you can go in the evening and stay with
her. Mrs. Green can't be spared, and Miss Mildred would rather have you
than me."
"Oh dear, I'm sorry for Mrs. Cartwright. She was so kind—and then she
had such a sad life."
"That's a reason for 'not' being sorry, to my mind. She had the comfort
of knowing that Miss Mildred would be cared for—she was ready to go,
and glad, I think, too. It was a hard life for one like her. No, I
couldn't really wish her back again. Bring the child to the kitchen,
Ellen, and—Why, child, you've forgotten to wash up."
"I didn't forget, but I never had a moment to do it. Baby cried—roared!
if I left him in the basket. And what with amusing him, and keeping him
wrapped up when he kicked like anything, I never had the chance to do
my work. Don't be angry with me, Mrs. Rule dear."
"I'm not to say angry—but 'tis new to me to have the dinner lying just
as when we stood up at six o'clock in the evening. And the fire out—and
no hot water! Well, 'tis only for a time. But you must see, Ellen, that
it can only be for a time."
With that she tied herself up in a big holland apron, and set to work
ardently. She rekindled the fire, with much banging of the stove-door
and thumping about of kettles. She put away the remains of the mutton,
shaking her head at its burnt appearance. When the water boiled, she
began to wash the delf with a good deal of clatter; and all the time
her mouth was tightly shut, which Ellen knew for a stormy sign.
Another time Ellen would have been remorseful and half-frightened, but
the baby kept her so busy that she could hardly help being exceedingly
happy! He watched Hannah's brisk movements with interest, and evidently
thought that the clatter was made for his express delight; he cooed
softly, kicked his feet and waved his arms. Finally, Hannah happening
to look at him, he burst into a jolly baby chuckle—surely, surely, one
of the most delicious sounds in the world. Ellen laughed because the
baby laughed; and Hannah, her pleasant face quite restored to its usual
expression, took the child out of the girl's arms, kissed his little
face, and then danced him about, saying—
"Bless his little heart! Here we go—up, up, up! And here we
come—down-a-downy. Listen to that shout, Ellen,—the darling! Eh, baby,
there's no—there's no fool like an old fool."
"But 'tis only for a little time, Mrs. Rule dear," said Ellen, laughing.
"Just so. Come now, you young Turk, I'll spread the shawl on the floor,
and you may just sprawl about. Put the pillow for his head, Ellen;
there now, he's as safe as a bird in a cage. Let's have tea, and then
you must go to Miss Mildred."
"But how will you manage about baby all by yourself?" Ellen asked
slowly.
"How does any woman manage that has a baby to see to? 'Tis only because
you have no experience that you could do nothing but mind him. Why,
Ellen, you seem quite unwilling to go! Surely you've too much sense to
be afraid, because your kind school-mistress lies there dead?"
"Oh, it's not that! It's only—the baby."
"Indeed, then, Ellen, if the baby makes you think of nothing else, and
forget Miss Mildred's grief and loneliness and all her kindness to you,
the sooner we're rid of him the better."
Ellen hung her head, and made no further objection, but she looked what
Hannah called "glum." However, Hannah took no notice, but when tea was
over, packed her off, desiring her to look in at No. 6 and tell Mrs.
Collins that she had not time to go to her that evening, as she had
intended.
"Promise me one thing, Mrs. Rule dear,—that you won't let the baby be
taken away while I'm away."
"Not unless his mother comes for him; you wouldn't have me keep him
from her!"
"I—believe I would," said Ellen.
"Child, child, don't let such a selfish thought enter your head.
Indeed, then, you're fair crazed about the boy. But you mustn't set
your heart too much on him, nor give way to wrong feelings, Ellen. Good
night, my dearie, good night."
Ellen had no difficulty in obtaining an interview with Mrs. Collins;
the difficulty was to put an end to it. First she had to answer dozens
of questions about the baby, and what the police said, and if they had
caught the old woman in the red shawl.
"And they ought to know her by the shawl," Mrs. Collins remarked, with
an appearance of great depth.
Seeing symptoms in her victim's movements of an inclination to make
off, Mrs. Collins put forth her hand and took firm hold of Ellen's
cloak. Then Ellen made a great mistake. She said—
"Do let me go, Mrs. Collins. Miss Mildred may be wanting me; she's
alone."
This entailed, of course, another long cross-examination about the
Cartwrights. And not until she had completely mastered that question,
did Mrs. Collins set the girl free.
Altogether Ellen reached her destination in a rather cross mood. But
when she saw her kind friend, who had taught her so much and been so
good to her, everything else was forgotten, and the two girls cried
together and comforted one another, as Hannah had hoped they would.
Ellen stayed with Miss Mildred until the day of the funeral: went
with her to see the last of the good, brave, patient woman, who was
at last resting from her labours, and then helped her to pack up such
things as she wished to take with her. Mrs. Green was to dispose of the
furniture. Mildred was to stay with Hannah for a couple of days.
"And you'll see baby," said Ellen, proudly; "he's such a beauty, Miss
Mildred, I know you will like to see him."
Having no special turn for babies, and being sad at heart, and
dreadfully afraid of her interview with Mrs. Anstruther, Miss Mildred
rather disappointed Ellen, though she said at once that he was a
beautiful child.
Next day, they were all sitting in the parlour, when once more Mrs.
Anstruther's carriage rolled up to the door. The tall footman once more
seemed determined to batter in the door if he failed to shake the house
down, and Mrs. Collins stood at her door and saw the lady in the silk
dress enter Hannah Rule's house.
"Some people has all the luck," was her comment; "that's a golden
sovereign in her pocket, I'm very sure."
"This is Miss Cartwright, ma'am," said Hannah, when her visitor was in
her parlour. "Ellen and I will leave you to settle things with her.
You're looking a bit better, Mrs. Anstruther!"
"A very little bit, Hannah, I fear. Eh! A baby! Now, where did you pick
up that baby, Hannah? You see, Miss Cartwright, I have to speak sharply
to Hannah, because she might otherwise be persuaded to take care of
every baby whose mother was too lazy to take care of it herself. But
what a lovely child!"
"If you could find him his mother, ma'am, lazy or not lazy, you'd be
doing what the police can't do, as yet. I only have him while they are
seeing about it."
"Do not leave us, Hannah, till you have told me all about it. Did you
find him yourself?"
Mrs. Anstruther made a sign to Ellen to put the baby upon her lap.
Instead of doing this, Ellen went quickly towards the door. Hannah,
thinking that she had misunderstood the sign, intercepted her retreat,
took the child, and gave him to Mrs. Anstruther, wondering why Ellen
looked so piteous. As to Ellen, she was so taken up with the baby, that
she thought every one wanted him as much as she did, and fully expected
Mrs. Anstruther to propose carrying him off, as well as Miss Mildred.
"And Mrs. Rule will never say no to her!" thought poor Ellen, and stood
by in an agony while the lady looked at the child, and played with him.
For some unknown reason, the baby was highly delighted, showed his
satisfaction by poking a fat finger into Mrs. Anstruther's eye, and
perfectly bubbled over with shouts and laughter.
"Well, he 'is' a lovely child! One would think he knew me, Hannah. Tell
me all about him, please."
The story was told, and by the time it was finished, Mrs. Anstruther's
object in asking for it was gained, for Mildred Cartwright had
recovered her self-possession.
"Here, Ellen, take him; he's very heavy." Then, as she kissed him, she
whispered: "Ah, Baby, if I had—Good-bye, you dear little fellow."
Ellen seized her treasure and fled, and Hannah only waited to say—
"You'll let me give you a cup of tea before you go, ma'am." And then
hastened to the kitchen, where she had all things in readiness to bake
some very special tea-cakes to which "Miss Geraldine" had of old been
fondly attached.
As soon as all was ready, Hannah said—
"You won't mind staying here with baby, Ellen? You see, Mrs. Anstruther
lost a little boy of about that age, and I just saw she was thinking of
it."
"Oh no; I don't mind at all. I had rather stay here. But, Mrs. Rule
dear, you 'won't' give her the baby, even if she asks for him?"
Hannah laughed. "Ellen, if the Queen happened to pass up Wellington
Row, which she has never done in my time, you'd think she was coming
for the baby. As to refusing Mrs. Anstruther, it would not be easy
to me to do that, I confess." And, lifting her tray, she went to the
parlour.
"Oh, Hannah! Surely I see the very cakes you used to make for us,
and bake on a flat pan over the nursery fire! Yes, I will have some
certainly, and they will very likely disagree horribly with me, and
Miss Cartwright will have to nurse me. All your fault, Hannah; for
you know my weakness for these cakes, and should not tempt me. Miss
Cartwright will come home with me now, Hannah. She will be such a
comfort to me that I cannot wait. She can get what more she requires as
easily with me as here. Hannah, what shall you do if the child remains
unclaimed?"
"The police say they will take him to the workhouse, ma'am."
"He would be better off at Armine's Trust than there. It is really well
managed now, and the boys get a very good plain education; of course he
would be at the girls' house till he is four years old. I will manage
all that for him—or, rather, for you. Why, Hannah! You never think of
keeping him?"
"Oh no, ma'am. You see, either Ellen or I must stay at home to mind
him, and 'twould prevent her getting on with the cooking. But it 'does'
go to my heart, remembering Ellen, as she was when she came to me, to
think of that baby at Armine's—though no doubt the workhouse is worse."
"Armine's is better managed now, really. I suspect you have let that
baby creep into a soft corner in your heart, Hannah. Now mind, I will
gladly help you about him."
"Thank you, ma'am, but I really could not do with a baby at all. Mrs.
Anstruther, I am thinking you're a bit more like yourself than when I
saw you the other day?"
"Yes, I am, indeed. In the first place, the perfect quiet has rested
me; and in the second, that wicked old Dr. Hammond has confessed to me
that he made the worst of my illness, because he knew that nothing but
a good fright would make me give up all my engagements. I shall never
be fit for a busy life again, but I shall most likely come back from
the Engadine for the summer pretty well. I dare say Miss Cartwright and
I shall find something to do in a quiet way."
She took Hannah's hand in hers, and whispered, "And I shall not forget
what you said, Hannah; I will try to learn my lesson."
"Bless your sweet heart," said Hannah, with tears in her eyes. "And
when do you go, ma'am?"
"On Monday next; so this is good-bye. But if that baby refuses to turn
out, I am to pay his expenses. You will lose by having him, you see."
"That's true, ma'am; and I would not let pride stand in my way. But I
don't mean to keep him."
Miss Mildred came back, having packed up her things, and said good-bye
to Ellen. And soon the carriage rolled smoothly away, leaving foolish
Ellen with the feeling that Baby had very nearly been reft from her by
Mrs. Anstruther.
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