A year after the Charringtons had taken possession of their flat, the
girls sat in conclave and reviewed the situation. Philippa "submitted"
her accounts with the usual unpleasant results; for those who had
nothing to do with the management were horrified at their amount,
groaned over the total sum, and wondered "how it had gone," until the
goaded housekeeper was fain to turn the tables and inquire into the
doings of her critics. That brought them quickly enough to their knees,
for in truth the report was far from rose-coloured.
"I have made a decided improvement," said Theo dryly. "My manuscripts
are now refused with a written acknowledgment instead of a printed slip.
In two cases I have even been asked to submit further efforts. I
worked for nearly a month on one story for Mr Hammond, and he said it
was `crude.' I wrote another in one afternoon, and he said it was
`charming, but not suitable for his magazine.' I have sent it to three
other editors since then, and the unanimity of opinion is most
impressive. I gathered together all my rejected addresses and offered
them to a publisher. He said that volumes of short stories had been
overdone, and that--except in a few exceptional cases--they were not
publishing any more. I was determined to earn money _somehow_, so I
turned to children's stories and paragraphs for penny papers. I get a
sovereign each for the stories, and five shillings a page for the
paragraphs. I wrote an article on `Advice to Young Authors,' and it was
accepted on its first journey. I also perpetrated a penny novelette,
with detailed descriptions of the heroine's frocks, and an earl for
hero. The editor accepted it, and corrected my English according to his
lights. I _cringed_ over the printed copy, and blushed to my ears.
Altogether I have amassed seventeen pounds--minus, of course, my
expenses and the fortune expended on stamps!"
"I wish I had done as well," said Hope sadly. She was as pretty as
ever, but her face was thinner and the mischievous dimples came more
rarely into sight. "I had eight `social engagements' during the
Christmas holidays, for four of which I have to thank my friend the
conjurer. Then my market was practically closed for another year.
Minnie Caldecott sang my song at Aunt Loftus's reception, and again at
the Welsby's, and the publisher printed it `as sung by Miss Minnie
Caldecott,' just as I wished. They would not pay anything down, but
promised a royalty if the sales exceeded five hundred. Last time I
inquired they had sold forty-eight copies. Oh dear! I got some
transposing and copying to do, which paid rather better than making
matches. I swallowed mountains of pride and prejudice and advertised
myself as an instructor of youth--the one thing I had always vowed I
would not do--and I have one pupil with warts on her fingers, who snores
all the while she is torturing the `Village Blacksmith.' I--I always
thought I was amiable before, but I have felt--I've felt _murderous_ to
that child! I have earned nineteen pounds, Philippa, spent five on my
dress, three on my cloak, over two on cabs and gloves; grand total for a
year's effort--ten pounds sterling!"
"I've not made a cent, but I've done my best, and saints can do no
more," cried Madge breezily. "I designed Christmas-cards and composed
sensible verses to be printed on them; not the--
"May all your life be bright and gay,
As cloudless as a summer day!
"Kind of business, but reasonable good wishes which had some chance of
being fulfilled. The first firm kept them for months, and could not be
induced to return them until I had written four times, and the second
said that it was too late in the season to consider new designs. I have
sent headings and initial letters to magazines, and have had heaps of
compliments, but nothing more substantial. I have likewise had heaps of
snubs at the Slade, but I bob up again like a cork after each fresh
dousing, and am more determined than ever to get on and make a name.
The mistake we have made is in being too proud to begin at the
beginning. Hope is the most humble-minded of the family; but she
expected to become well-known in one season, and to sell her song by the
hundreds. Theo wanted to write for the _Casket_, and I hoped to be
exhibiting before now. We must crawl down, and be content to drudge
before we soar. My serious studies leave much to be desired, but I can
caricature with the best. The other day I amused myself in the lunch
hour by drawing the pupils in the life, and one of the girls' carried
off the sketch and stuck it on her easel. Just then in came Pepper, as
we call him--he is so horribly stinging and bitter in his criticisms--
and walked straight up to look at it. Oh, my heart! He was quite
silent, but I saw his shoulders shaking, and when he turned round his
face was red. `Whose work is this?' he asked; and I suppose guilt was
written large on my expressive features, for he came up to me and said,
`I shall have to inflict a punishment for this, Miss Charrington. I
cannot have my pupils ridiculed and their work interrupted in this
manner. The punishment is--that you draw a caricature of me on the
other side of the sheet!'
"He put the paper on my easel, and all the girls giggled and peered
round to witness my collapse. But I wasn't going to be floored by a
little thing like that. He stuck his hands in his pockets and stood
opposite me, and I set to work to draw him then and there. He was easy
to caricature, for he has a curious, sheep-dog kind of face, with two
deep lines running down from the nose, humped-up shoulders, and a mop of
hair. It really was like him, and what I call a _polite_ caricature, so
that his feelings shouldn't be hurt. He tried to look solemn when I
gave it to him, but his lips twitched, and he walked straight out of the
room and took it with him. Next day, when he was abusing my drawing as
usual, he said, `You had better caricature your subjects at once. You
will make far more out of them in that way than in any other.' That was
quite a compliment coming from Pepper, and I've taken it to heart.
After much cogitation I have evolved an idea which, with Theo's
co-operation, I am going to put into action forthwith. I sha'n't tell
you what it is until I see how I succeed, but I don't mind confessing
that it is hardly high-class. We might call it the lowest rung of the
ladder."
"Be careful, deary. Don't do anything that you would be sorry for
afterwards. Promise me to be careful," pleaded the anxious housekeeper;
and Madge promised gaily, and carried Theo away into another room to
talk over the new idea without further delay.
Hope sat still, gazing into the fire with wistful eyes; and Philippa,
watching her anxiously, wondered, as she had often done of late, if it
were only the strain of money-making which had brought such sadness into
the sweet face. Hope had told her nothing of Ralph Merrilies; and
indeed there was little to tell, for, with the exception of two
occasions when she had met him at her uncle's house and exchanged a few
commonplace sentences, he had practically dropped out of her life since
the evening when he had offered his escort and had been treated with
such apparent rudeness in response. Hope had given over telling herself
that a fortnight's acquaintance could not possibly influence a lifetime,
for the impression was too strong to be reasoned away. The picture of
the strong, dark face was imprinted on her brain; in every moment of
leisure her thoughts drifted back to Ralph as the needle to the pole.
The longing to see him again was sometimes so strong as to be an actual
physical pain. Now, as she sat staring into the fire, she was reviewing
her life, telling herself that love was a thing forbidden, and pondering
on what remained, until, Philippa's fixed gaze attracting her attention,
she looked up with a flickering smile.
"I was thinking, Phil. Our talk has made me think. I have worked so
hard this last year, and the result is so poor--so unsatisfactory!" She
rose, and coming close to Philippa's side, took hold of her hand and
cried, with sudden passion, "Phil, I can't do it--I can't go on! I
could _give_ my life, I could work for nothing, gladly and cheerfully,
if it were for some noble end, but I can't sell it for a mess of
pottage! I can't go on smiling and acting and trampling on my feelings,
and associating with Minnie Caldecott and her friends for the sake of
what I can make out of them. And I can't earn enough to help you. I am
only a burden. I want to give it up, Phil, and devote my life to doing
good. I want to enter a home for deaconesses, and be trained for work
among the poor. There is no question of money there, for you get barely
enough to live in the plainest way, but I should be doing some good in
the world--"
"Sit down, Hope," said Philippa quietly. She waited in silence until
the trembling hand lay quietly on her own, and then began her reply. "I
know a girl who went to pay a visit at a country-house. It was, on the
face of it, merely a pleasure visit, but while there she managed to
rouse a very selfish girl to the consciousness that there were other
needs in the world besides her own. Later on she gave real hard work to
the carrying out of a scheme which she had suggested, and which has put
fresh life into many tired workers this summer. I know a girl who has
three quick-tempered, sharp-tongued sisters, and who keeps peace among
them by her sweet influence. I know a girl who can make home cheerful
by the exercise of her talent, and so keep a young brother happy and
occupied many times when he would otherwise be roaming about in search
of amusement. He is only a boy, but he thinks himself a man, and he is
so easily--so easily influenced for good or bad! If that girl left her
home, and her sisters' lives were made more difficult, and that poor boy
went astray, would she be `doing good'? Would she be doing the duty
that lay at her hand?"
"Oh Phil!" gasped Hope, dismayed; but now Philippa in her turn was
roused, and squared her shoulders in her old determined fashion.
"I can't think what has come to girls nowadays that they must take for
granted that good work must needs be without their own four walls.
Charity begins at home, and _I_ call it treachery to forsake your
relations when they need your help. If you go away, and anything
happens to Barney--"
"Phil, don't! I can't bear it. Of course I will stay if you need me;
and it comforts me more than anything else to feel that I _can_ help.
You are not--not _anxious_ about Barney, are you, dear?"
"Yes, I am. I hate to put it into words, but perhaps it is better that
we should consult together. The boy is changed; sometimes there is a
look upon his face which I can't bear to see--a worried, miserable,
_shamed_ look, as if there were something he was trying to hide. He
keeps asking for money, too, and at last I summoned up courage and
refused to give any more. I thought he would have been angry, but he
only stared at me fixedly and said, `You'd better, Philippa! You will
be sorry if you refuse.' Perhaps it was cowardly of me, but I was
frightened and gave him what he asked; but I spoke very plainly to him,
all the same. I said, `Remember, Barney, that every unnecessary
shilling you spend means extra anxiety and worry to me, and extra
self-denial to the girls. We expect you to help, not to hinder. If you
really love us you cannot have the heart to be extravagant just now.'
He looked miserable, but he did not offer to return the money. I have
given him no more since then, but he must get it _somewhere_, for he
spends far more than Steve. He had half-a-dozen new ties in his drawer,
and is always going to the theatre, and buying little things for his
room. I don't like to speak to Steve, for the truth is, he doesn't
understand Barney, and does more harm than good by his interference.
But, Hope, you and I must work together. We must save our boy before it
is too late. We must not allow him to get into bad ways."
"Poor Barney!" sighed Hope sadly. "It must be a hard life for him down
in that dreary office. We have wondered that he stuck to his work so
well. We won't scold him, Phil. Boys won't stand being scolded by
their sisters. We will just make home as bright as we can, and make a
point of consulting him and asking his help, so that he may feel like a
man, poor darling--a man who has women depending on him, and must keep
straight for their sake. We'll appeal to the best in him by showing our
trust."
Philippa looked at her with shining eyes.
"Oh Hope, and you wanted to leave us! Bless you, dear, you _are_ a
help! I was feeling so cross and bitter, inclined to snap off the poor
boy's head, though my heart was breaking for him all the time; but yours
is the right way. You are right and I am wrong. We will begin to-night
and see what we can do."
When Barney returned from town an hour or two later Hope looked at him
with opened eyes, and felt a pang of remorse for the selfishness which
had blinded her to the change in the boy's face. The once smooth
forehead showed a faint network of lines; his glance had lost its
candour, his radiant self-confidence was replaced by nervous
uncertainty. He sat down quietly, casting a quick, almost furtive
glance at Philippa's face; but when she smiled gaily in response, when
she pressed dainties upon him and called him "old boy" in her old loving
tones, his relief and pleasure found vent in one of his old bursts of
merriment. He laughed and sang, danced up and down the room, and
chattered incessantly, and as if he had never known a care in his life.
"I had a rowing from old Waxworks to-day. I expect I shall get sacked
soon," he announced complacently. "The head of our department is such a
muff! He can't see a joke, and spends half his time telling tales of me
to the boss. Now, Waxworks, with all his faults, has quite a decent
sense of humour. I tried him pretty high one day, and he really behaved
uncommonly well. I was at the telephone when he came out of his private
room and said, `Oh Charrington, just telephone home for me that I am
bringing two of the directors to dinner to-night.' I said, `Yes, sir,'
and rang up at once. Of course, I expected him to go back to his room,
so after I had given the message, `Two directors coming to dinner
to-night,' I dropped the tube and added a little warning on my own
behalf for the benefit of the clerks: `_Don't_--_have_--_hash_!' They
were all so jolly sober about it that I looked round to see what was up,
and there was every man Jack of them scribbling for his life, while old
Waxworks stood at his door looking on. I tell you I felt pretty sick;
but he just glared at me for a moment, and then went into his room and
shut the door. My private opinion is that he wanted to laugh. One of
the fellows told me that he quite snubbed Young--that's our head--when
he complained of my vaulting over the desks--waved his hand, and said,
with his grandest roll, `Your manager has been young himself!' I expect
Young had it in for me worse than ever after that, and to-day he had his
chance. He was out of the room, and it was beastly dull, so I proposed
getting up a statue gallery, and posed the fellows standing up on their
stools. We had the Three Graces, with their arms entwined, and their
legs sticking up in the air. Ulysses meeting What's-her-name--Penelope,
wasn't it?--and hugging her round the waist, and all sorts of heathen
Johnnies wrestling and fighting. Then the other fellows got scared and
went back to their desks, and I was doing `Ajax defying the lightning'
in fine style, when Young came sneaking in and found me at it. He told
the boss, and the boss sent for me, and jawed for a quarter of an hour.
`Willing to make excuses for youthful spirits, but must enforce
discipline. Repeated complaints. Friend of your uncle. Very sorry.
Give you another chance.' You know the kind of thing."
"Bar-ney!" cried the four sisters in chorus. But Barney only laughed
and shrugged his shoulders.
"What's the odds? I'm sick of the whole show, anyway. If he thinks I
am going to spend my life making out policies he is jolly well mistaken.
It's bad enough as it is; I should go cracked if I couldn't have a
little fun."
The lines came back to his forehead as he spoke, and Philippa regarded
him in pained self-reproach. This bright, adventurous spirit was never
intended by nature to be chained to an office desk. No wonder that he
chafed at confinement, and occasionally broke the bounds. If
circumstances would have allowed it, he would have made a resourceful
middy, a soldier who would have done good work for his country; but
circumstances had not allowed it, and here once more was the round peg
in the square hole, here once more the inevitable failure and
disappointment. Surely there is no greater wrong that can be done to a
young man, no surer way of driving him into temptation, than to set him
a lifelong task which he despises and abhors. Philippa determined to
consult the Hermit, who was by this time a regular Sunday-night visitor
at the flat, and whose understanding of the boy's nature made him a more
valuable adviser than the staid elder brother. Perhaps Mr Neil might be
able to suggest a way out of the difficulty.
For the next few days Theo and Madge took their walks abroad together,
and when at home remained shut up in the drawing-room together, whence
came peals of mysterious laughter. Sheets of cardboard were smuggled to
and fro, and finally taken out of the house and never brought back. In
their place, however, appeared two bright half-sovereigns, displayed
with huge pride on Madge's outstretched palm.
"First fruits!" she cried. "The foundations of a mighty fortune! I
have set up in the advertising business, my dears, and am very well
satisfied with my beginning. Oh, I am going to explain; just give me
time and you shall hear all about it. You may remember, Phil, that you
once advised me to try poster-painting, and that I was mortally offended
at the suggestion. I remembered it, though, and when Pepper advised me
to go in for caricature, it seemed as if the two things might be worked
together. I was afraid it was no use trying anything big as a start, so
I have been parading unfashionable thoroughfares this last week, looking
out for shops which advertise their wares in the window, studying the
said wares, and composing something really striking and original to
attract the passers-by. There was one pastry-cook's where they had a
printed cord in the window which pleased me very much--`Mutton pies--as
good as mother makes 'em!' The inventor of that advertisement would, I
was sure, be able to appreciate my efforts; so I drew a picture of a
dinner-table, with a fat, motherly old dear cutting up pies at one end,
while the different crowned heads of Europe sat round the table,
elbowing each other for the first chance. You should have seen the
delight of the proprietor when I exhibited it. He called his wife, and
she came out of the little parlour, and shrieked with laughter. They
wanted to know what I charged for it, and I said boldly, `Ten shillings;
and in a couple of years it will be ten pounds. I am just starting in
this business, so I am charging a nominal price.' They whispered
together, and asked if I couldn't make it seven-and-six; but I was firm,
and they were glad enough to secure it at the price. That was number
one. Number two was a failure, though I thought the sketch was the best
of all. The man was hard up, I think, and couldn't afford the money.
The third was a sweet-shop, for which I illustrated a rhyme of Theo's,
with figures of the `Shock-headed Peter' type. There was a nice old
body in charge, who was not by any means an easy prey. She did not
believe that the picture would bring her any fresh custom, but I
persuaded her to try it for a couple of days, and saw it safely pasted
on the window before we left. When we went back she confessed that
there had been crowds of children about the window when the schools came
out, and `supposed she had better keep it now.' That's the second
half-sovereign. And you needn't look nervous, Phil, for I assure you I
never met with greater politeness; the assistants in the fashionable
entertainment bureaux might learn a lesson from my mutton-pie gentleman.
Besides, it has shown me that I _can_ do it, and I'll be more ambitious
next time. I'll show you the sketch that the tobacconist refused, to
give you an idea of the style of thing."
She ran into her bedroom, and brought back a narrow sheet of paper on
which was depicted a race-course, dotted over with the strangest, most
comical of figures. The headpieces of old Toby pipes peered forth from
the necks of rotund tobacco-jars, which were crowned with cocked hats,
as represented by well-filled pouches. Short-stemmed pipes did service
for arms, long-stemmed pipes for the wide-spread legs, and it was really
astonishing how life-like and animated the figures appeared. With one
exception, however, the combatants were in a very sad case, tumbling,
fainting, falling to the ground, standing still with bowl-like hands
pressed to their hearts, while the winner pressed nearer and nearer to
the goal, and on that winner's corpulent figure was inscribed the
eloquent and touching legend, "Banks's tobacco leads the way!"
"The name, of course, can be altered to suit the exigencies of the
situation," said Madge dryly; and at that Barney burst into a roar of
delighted laughter.
"Good old Madge! Well done, you! That's a rattling good picture, and
you will sell it yet I tell you what; there's a little shop that I
patronise sometimes on my way home, where I really think they might have
it. They sell newspapers and tobacco and so-called stationery, and the
man is an enterprising sort of fellow, who would take up a new idea.
I'll write down the address, and you might call in some day."
"Good old Barney! Good for you!" replied Madge in return. It was a
simple enough suggestion, frankly made and as frankly accepted; neither
brother nor sister suspected to what weighty consequences it was to give
rise.