A NEW HOUSE AND THE SAME OLD FURNITURE
Miss Yard became uncontrollable, almost dangerous, when Percy wrote
informing her he had discovered a house situated upon high ground, quite
fifty feet above the meadows through which the Drivel percolated. The
garden soil was a singularly fertile gravel; the view, which was
monotonous, consisting chiefly of mole heaps, was fortunately blotted
out by lichened apple trees; while the principal reception room had been
designed, in his opinion, with a view to knitting parties; and a retired
Archdeacon had quite recently passed away in the best bedroom.
The old lady craved for Drivelford delights every hour of the day. She
escaped constantly from the garden to begin the first of the hundred
miles which separated her from such a respectable abode. When imprisoned
in the parlour, she wrote a quantity of letters to old friends, most of
whom had travelled far outside the radius of the postal union, inviting
them to her first tea party at the Lodge, Drivelford. The name of the
house was really Wistaria Lodge; but Percy had recommended the shorter
form as less of a committal.
"Percy must live with us; he will enjoy the river. Don't you remember
the gentlemen, in long coats and round hats, who used to sit all day
smoking and tasting something out of jars? Percy would like that," she
said merrily.
"Mr. Taverner is now a married man, and by this time he is a thousand
miles away. I suppose you are referring to Mr. George," said Nellie.
"Of course I mean George. Why don't you listen, child? He can sit by the
river with the rest of the gentlemen. He can hand round the cakes, and
talk to the ladies. Give nice things, and say nice things. I wonder if
somebody told me that, or whether I invented it. I used to be clever
once; twenty years ago I could have told you what Wistaria meant."
"It's a creeper," explained Nellie. "But Mr. Taverner as good as says
there isn't one."
"I'm glad of that. I do not like creeping things. Now I'm going to write
to George. My memory is wonderfully good today, and yet I cannot
remember the name of the lady he married."
"My memory is better than yours, but I cannot remember it either,"
laughed Nellie. "When Mr. George marries, I shall expect to hear your
banns read out."
"I could have married once," declared Miss Yard. "He was a curate with
such a funny face, and his nose was just like a cork."
"Why didn't you?" asked Nellie.
"I think there was some impediment. I rather fancy he took to comic
songs, or perhaps he forgot to mention the matter. Why did George go
away, if he never means to get married?"
"That's a long story, which I cannot tell you now, as I must get on with
the packing. Don't you write to Mr. George. Leave that to me."
"He is coming with us," cried Miss Yard.
"He is not," said Nellie.
She went out, locking the door lest Miss Yard should commence one of her
perambulations towards Drivelford, murmuring to herself:
"Kezia goes with us, so there will be no trouble with her; but Bessie,
of course, stays with her husband. Whatever will she and Robert say--and
do--when we begin to move the furniture? George must come back. He's
pretty artful, and perhaps he'll suggest a plan."
The artfulness of George was a thing to be reckoned with, so, when
Nellie wrote, she did not mention that the furniture was now the legal
property of Miss Yard; but merely informed him they were leaving
Highfield, and requested him to return as soon as possible.
She had hardly finished this letter when Kezia entered the room, seated
herself in the most comfortable chair, as prospective mistress of all
she surveyed, and announced her intention of getting to the bottom of
everything.
"I don't know what's going on, but there's something being kept back
what I have a right to know. Who stole my things, Miss Nellie? Who come
into this house, when me and Bess wur sitting in the kitchen, and took
my musical box, and my silver candlesticks, what dear Mrs. Drake left
me--snatched 'em out of my hand, as you might say? Mr. George had gone
away, so it couldn't be him. It warn't nobody here. It warn't the
Brocks, they ses. That musical box wur so heavy the dear Captain
couldn't lift it without saying something Mrs. Drake wur sorry vor. And
it went off avore my face as if 'twur smoke."
"I'm just as much puzzled as you," said Nellie. "Perhaps the policeman
will tell us all about it when he comes home."
"I've got a fancy he took the things himself. He's got a way of hanging
about after dark what I don't like," said Kezia. "I ha' never trusted
policeman, since one kissed me when I was a young gal. 'Twas ten o'clock
at night, and I wur standing by the gate--and then he begged my pardon,
said he'd mistook the house, and 'twas the gal next door he meant to
kiss. You can't trust them, miss. They ses he's gone to run in a farmer
whose place got burnt down, but it's my belief he's gone to sell my
candlesticks."
"You mustn't say such things," cried Nellie.
"And what's all this about going away? Mr. Percy come here, and I heard
'en tell about finding a house, and Miss Sophy does nought 'cept worry
about packing and getting off, and her talks all day about a place
called Drivelford. Nobody tells me nothing about it."
"Miss Sophy has told you a great deal."
"I don't pay no attention to what she ses. Mrs. Drake said Miss Sophy
wur to die here, and be put away in Highfield churchyard, and nothing
was to be touched in her lifetime."
"But surely Miss Sophy can please herself!"
"Mrs. Drake said I wur to look after Miss Sophy," muttered Kezia.
"And so you shall. We are going away, as Miss Sophy really ought to live
in a place where she can see a few people. We have taken a house in
Drivelford, which is where she used to live, and we shall go there some
time this month. Kezia, I want you not to mention this to anyone, not
even to Bessie," said Nellie impressively.
"Well, I never!" gasped Kezia. "I fancied we should never be going away
from here, and I don't think it's right. I'm sure Mrs. Drake wouldn't
like it. What sort of a place is this Drivelford?"
"Oh, it's quite a bright little town, and a lot of old people go there
to live because the death rate is only seven and a half in a thousand."
"What do that mean?" asked Kezia.
"Statistics are beyond me, but I suppose if means that out of a thousand
people only seven and a half die."
"What happens to the old folk what don't die? How long do the person
what half dies bide like that? Do he get better or worse? How be us to
know whether me, and you, and Miss Sophy, won't be among the seven? I
can't sense the meaning of it."
"It does seem rather hard to explain, especially as Drivelford has the
biggest cemetery I ever saw in my life. You will like the place, Kezia.
There are plenty of houses and rows of shops--one very big one, called
Field, Stanley, and Robinson, where you can buy anything."
"I'd like to be among a few shops," said Kezia more cheerfully. "Ain't
Stanley the name of that dreadful woman what came to Black Anchor?"
"I believe that was the name, but it is quite a common one. There are no
Stanleys in Drivelford anyhow; but there are three churches and two
chapels."
"That'll keep us busy on Sundays," said Kezia delightedly.
"And there's an electric theatre."
"What's that?" asked Kezia suspiciously.
"A place where they show pictures."
"I won't go there. I've heard a lot of loud talk about them places. I
heard of a young woman who went into one, and was never seen again. That
Stanley woman came from an electric theatre, where there was singing and
dancing and showing their legs, you may depend. Ah, they'll be weeping
and wailing and gnashing their teeth some day. Is there a dentist in
Drivelford?"
"Yes, and several undertakers, and a huge lunatic asylum," cried Nellie.
"Well, perhaps it won't be so bad. There's nothing to cheer a body in
Highfield. I'll try to put up with it, vor the sake of dear Mrs. Drake.
She said I wur never to leave Miss Sophy. Poor Bessie'll fret herself
into a decline when she hears I'm agoing away vor ever."
"Mind you don't tell her. I know you two are great friends, but directly
Bessie hears we are going to move the furniture, she and Robert will be
over here claiming all sorts of things."
"So they will," said Kezia uneasily. "I don't mind about Bessie--she's
welcome to anything I don't want--but Robert's been talking a bit too
sharp lately. I can't lay a hand on anything in the kitchen without him
saying it belongs to Bessie, and telling me to be careful how I touches
it."
"If it comes to the worst, we might let them have the mummy. Miss Sophy
doesn't really care for it," suggested Nellie.
"They ain't agoing to have he. I wouldn't part wi' the dear old stuffed
gentleman, not vor fifty pounds," cried Kezia.
"Oh dear!" sighed Nellie. "I can see very well we are in for a
battle--feather beds torn in pieces--carpets rent asunder--you and
Bessie tugging at opposite ends of Mrs. Drake's sofa. But suppose Robert
brings a crowd!"
"I won't say a word," promised Kezia, breathing heavily with excitement.
"They shan't know we'm going vor ever till the vans come. I suppose us
couldn't move the things on a dark night, same as they does in towns?"
"Right under Bessie's window!" exclaimed Nellie. "Why, it will take them
a whole day merely to pack the things."
"Robert won't let a thing be took. He ha' said so many a time. 'Not a
stick, Kezia, is to go out of the house,' he says, 'unless I takes it.'
Whatever shall us do, Miss Nellie?"
"We had better wait until Mr. George comes. Then, if he cannot suggest
anything, I shall have to write and ask Mr. Hunter to come down and
look after Miss Sophy's interests."
"But the furniture don't belong to she," objected Kezia.
"At all events she has a life interest in it," Nellie reminded her.
"Sure enough. Mrs. Drake said it wur to belong to Miss Sophy while she
lived, but no longer. I suppose I'll have to see about letting the house
now," Kezia remarked, gazing yearningly at the oleographs. "I did think
once of living here, when Miss Sophy wur took, but it's too big vor me,
and I'd feel lonely here. Besides, I wouldn't want to bring back the
furniture. I ought to get thirty pounds vor it, and that's a nice bit
coming in every year. Perhaps I might sell it, but I fancy Mrs. Drake
wouldn't like me to do that. What would you do, if the place wur yours,
Miss Nellie--would you let or sell it?"
The girl seized her letter and fled, being far too kindly a little
coward to inform Kezia that the house belonged to George. She looked
into the parlour, where Miss Yard was singing away happily and, after
bidding her to go on with her warbles for another ten minutes, she ran
out of the house; but hardly had turned towards the post office when a
voice called from the opposite direction. Nellie turned, shading her
eyes, seeing nothing at first because she was staring into the glow of
the sunset; and then two figures advanced towards her--the policeman and
George Drake.
"I was just going to post a letter to you. Whatever has made you turn up
again?" she cried.
"The bad shilling has saved you a good penny stamp," replied George. "I
seemed to have been away quite long enough and, as my lodgings were
jolly dull, I decided to accept Aunt Sophy's invitation to live in my
own house again. I ought never to have gone, for as soon as I was out of
the house--what do you think the policeman has been telling me?"
"About the robbery."
"How that miserable Robert stole my things, while Bessie kept Kezia in
the kitchen."
"That's right, miss. I guessed how it was at once, but couldn't say
anything till I'd made sure. I was just coming to tell you when I met
Mr. Drake," said the new sergeant, stroking his moustache complacently.
"It doesn't pay to be a rascal here," said George. "This policeman has
caught a farmer burning down his house, and Robert making off with my
property, within the last few days. I hope it won't be long before he
gets a murder. I don't mind telling him to his face that he deserves a
double murder and suicide."
The constable expressed his gratitude for this unsolicited testimonial,
and added, "Mr. Drake thinks, miss, I'd better not go any further in the
matter, as there seems to be a sort of doubt as to who owns the
furniture."
"There is no doubt whatever. I own the things, and I'll see about
getting them back without troubling you," said George.
"Right, sir!" Then the policeman bade them good evening and went his
way.
Immediately they were alone, George burst out excitedly, "Nellie,
there's another girl!"
"In your case? Well, nobody's jealous," she replied.
"A prettier one than ever, but very young, in short skirts, with her
hair down, and her name's Teenie," he continued, without even hearing
her comment.
"I think you've come back perfectly crazy," observed Nellie.
"If you don't believe me, you can just go to Black Anchor and find out
for yourself."
"Oh, you mean another girl there!" she exclaimed, flushing angrily, and
adding, "I don't want to hear any more--but how do you know?"
"She travelled in the same carriage with me, and I thought what a
dear--I mean passable little thing she was. Directly the train stopped I
saw Sidney, and he called out, 'Here I am, Teenie darling!' And the
little girl fairly shouted, 'Oh, Sidney dear, how brown you are!' Then
she jumped out, and they kissed and hugged. I never saw anything more
disgraceful in my life. I sat back in the carriage so that Sidney
shouldn't see me. I suppose they have driven through the village by this
time, unless they have the decency to wait until it's dark."
"Where's your luggage?" asked Nellie rather sharply, but determined to
change the subject.
"First the painted lady, then Dolly, now Teenie! Thirty, then twenty,
and now fourteen! The next will be twelve, and after that they'll be
coming in perambulators. My word, young Sidney is a patriarch!"
"Hold your tongue," cried Nellie, more sharply than she had ever spoken
in her life.
"I'm sorry, but my feelings ran away with me--she was such a pretty
youngster--but of course it's fearfully sad. I had to walk from the
station, as I couldn't get a conveyance: the carrier can fetch my box.
What's the news? Has Percy been?"
"He came, saw me, and fled," replied the girl more amiably.
"I knew he was a coward, but I didn't suppose you could frighten any
one."
"He wanted Miss Sophy to buy the furniture. I told him it was hers
already. He blustered and threatened; I stood like a tor. He was so
rude that I lost my temper; and when I am angry I can frighten anyone.
He yielded and ran. The news," continued Nellie, "is that we are going
to run too."
"For a change of air. I'll come with you."
"A permanent change. We are going back to Drivelford. The house is
taken, and the problem before me is how to move the furniture."
"So you wrote asking me to come back and do the dirty work?"
"If you like to put it that way."
"Aunt Sophy has no right to leave without giving notice. She is my
tenant for life. If she breaks her contract I shall claim the
furniture--it is mine really, as Percy didn't give me a fair price, and
now he's gone to Tasmania he can't interfere. I have always regarded the
furniture as belonging to me in spite of Percy's interference. Of
course, when I say to me, I mean to us."
"Don't worry," she said. "Mr. Taverner has signed a deed of gift making
over everything in the house to Miss Sophy; and, as she has signed a
will in my favour, the furniture should come to me eventually--if Kezia
and the Mudges don't grab it all."
"So you made Percy give my furniture to Aunt Sophy. Percy, who has never
given away anything in his life except a bad cigar!"
"Marriage has improved him."
"He wasn't married when he came here."
"He was on the brink. I persuaded him that, as Miss Sophy had paid for
the things, she ought to have them."
"That argument would simply slide off his back. You said he threatened
you, and, from what I know of him, it's fairly certain that he swore at
you. Is it likely he would threaten one moment, and give way the next?
His young woman may have changed his vile nature--I hope she has--but
you can't reform the stripes off a zebra. You found out something about
him--you made him confess how he got hold of that money he wrote telling
us about, and why he was clearing out of the country. He has defrauded
the Yard estate, and Hunter helped him. The next thing we shall hear is
that Hunter has gone to study the business habits and professional
morals of the Esquimaux. Out with it, Nellie, or I shall suffer from a
horrible suspicion that Percy has squared you."
"I have spoken nothing but the truth, and you won't squeeze anything
more out of me," she said.
"When a fellow stays in lodgings," said George, "he must either read
novels or go mad. I have been reading a quantity of novels, and they
convinced me that women are deceitful beings."
"They have to protect themselves against the perfidy of men," cried
Nellie.
"Remember poor innocent Adam! He was all right as long as he was engaged
to Eve; but what happened when he married her?"
"It's a shame that story was ever invented."
"He wouldn't have eaten the apples; peaches and bananas were good enough
for him," George continued.
"But the serpent started it, and the serpent was the devil in disguise,
and the devil is a fallen angel, and all angels, as you told me once,
are gentlemen. So the male sex is the most deceitful after all."
"Why can't you stick to the subject?" said George sourly.
"Certainly," laughed Nellie. "This business about the furniture must be
settled finally one way or the other. Are the Mudges to have anything,
and, if not, how are they to be prevented from taking just what they
want?"
"Robert and Bessie are not to take a stick from the house, or a stone
from the garden; and they must give back the things they have stolen,"
replied George.
"Are those scraps of paper worth anything at all?" she demanded.
"They are as useless as agreements between nations."
"Then why don't you tell Kezia?"
"Because the law is so slippery."
"That means you are not certain."
"I am quite positive; but how can I be responsible for judicial errors?
Kezia may put her case into the hands of some shady lawyer--worse even
than Hunter--and some stupid court may make a mistake in her favour.
Kezia is going with you, so there will be no trouble with her while Aunt
Sophy lives."
"But it's not fair to keep her in ignorance."
"It's supposed to be a state of bliss."
"Oh, I can't argue with you. Will you answer one question properly?"
"I'll try," said George.
"How are we to rescue the furniture from the Mudges?"
"If they don't know you are going to move, and have no suspicions,"
began George.
"They have none," said Nellie.
"And are not told."
"They won't be."
"Then you can leave it to me," said George.