WITH THE "DOORS SHUT."
"DEARY me, I'm sure I don't know what to do," said a little fat woman,
with a pleasant, round face, coming leisurely down the stairs, and
pushing open the door of a small "front parlour," where she stood for a
moment, looking very much puzzled, her hands spread upon her sides, and
her eyes fixed on the ground.
"It's very tryin', that it is," she murmured; "I don't know 'what' to
do."
"What about, mother?" asked her pretty daughter, who was propping up a
fashion book in the window behind a card, in token to passers-by that
a very superior dress and mantle maker and milliner, from a first-rate
establishment, was to be found within.
"What about? Why, about our lodger; but, deary me, Lydia, what a
dreadful litter! When 'are' you going to let me brush this room? What
would any lady say to such an untidy place?"
And Mrs. Brooks, looking round, tried to imagine the impression that
the sight of it would make. Every chair was covered with work in some
form, either cut out and begun, or awaiting that process; patterns,
rolls of calico or trimmings: the floor was strewn with pieces,
cuttings, thread-ends and tackings, among which shone pins, buttons,
beads, tossed and scattered, not with the intention of wasting any of
them, but just lying until it might happen to be convenient to pick
them up; and it seldom was convenient to Miss Lydia Brooks.
"Oh, it looks as if I was busy; and really so I am. I've had no time to
pick up and straighten," said she, carelessly.
"Well, I'd have done it, only you made such a fuss about your pieces; I
wasn't to meddle with them," said the mother, still looking about. "Ah,
there now," she continued, "it's just as I said about Sally's spencer;
I knew it wouldn't be done, and here I'm going about in this old rag of
a gown, waiting till you put in those sleeves that you made me unpick.
But 'the shoemaker's wife goes the worst shod,' as the saying is. I did
think when I put you to the dressmaking, Liddy, that you'd take a pride
in seeing your own family nice always, but it isn't so."
"I'm sure I like you all to be nice," said Lydia, rummaging in a heap
of pieces for one she wanted; "only I didn't know that I was to make
and mend for everybody, when I've to get my own living by my work."
"Your own living, child! Why, is your living just putting clothes on
your back? What about lodgings and victuals on days that you stay at
home to work? Living, indeed!" And the good woman looked as indignant
as her good-humoured face would allow. Then suddenly recollecting
something, she added, in a doleful tone, "But, as I was saying, I'm
sure I don't know what to do. I got all the things the doctor ordered,
and he won't touch nor look at them. I wish you'd seen him when he
smelt it was brandy I was giving him. I never saw anybody so obstinate
in all my life; how in the world he's to get well I don't know!"
Lydia was too much absorbed in the effect of a bow she was making up to
feel any sympathy in her mother's difficulty. But happening to look out
at the window, she uttered an exclamation of pleasure and darted to the
door, as a neat, bright-looking girl came up the steps. "Oh, do come
in," she cried. "Mother, it's Miss Susan Taylor."
"Susan Taylor, ma'am," said the girl, smiling. "Mother sent me, Miss
Brooks, to ask if you can come and do some work for Aunt Hayes; she
wants her black silk gown turned, I believe, and she likes to help with
it herself."
"Oh, I shall be very happy indeed; but do sit down, I'll soon make a
chair," and bundling up a lot of things and slipping them all down in
a corner, Miss Brooks handed a chair. "You'll excuse litters, I know;
dressmakers can't be—that is, they can't always have their things out
of sight, you see."
"I can't stay, thank you," said Susan. "May I say that you'll come
to-morrow, or next day?"
"Yes, to-morrow, if you wish it; but, Susan, she looks very particular.
Do you think I can manage to please her?"
"I'm sure you will if you try," said Susan; "she is always pleased when
we do our best."
"Well, then, I'll do my best."
"But, Lydia," began Mrs. Brooks, "you promised—"
"Oh, yes, I know," interrupted the daughter. "I'll do that at home; it
won't interfere at all. And, Susan, I'll bring home the pieces of your
prints, and your best dress. What a pretty thing it is! Did you try it
on again?"
"No," said Susan.
"Well, then, you'll see that I have made it nice and long, as I was
sure you'd like it. You won't wear it at home, you know; so your mother
won't see it or know anything about it, and servants like their things
long as well as other people."
Susan stared so hard at the dressmaker that the colour rose to both
their faces at once.
"Why did you?" at last said Susan, recovering from her surprise. "You
will have to alter it; for I'm not going to sweep streets or carpets to
please anybody. Besides, I wish to have it exactly as mother told you."
"Oh, nonsense, you'll like it well enough when you get among them that
have the same."
"Milly's dresses never sweep," said Susan; "she says trains are for
drawing-rooms and carriages, and look pretty enough; but for people who
bustle about a house, and walk in streets or roads, they're a nuisance
outright. So I'll put it on before you to-morrow, and I'll have it just
as mother thinks right," concluded Susan, positively.
"Dear me, I thought to please you," said Miss Lydia; "but I shall know
better another time."
Susan hoped so, and was going; but Mrs. Brooks stopped her.
"My dear," said she, kindly, "I like to hear you speak that way, though
of course poor Liddy thought you were like other young people she works
for; so no offence, I hope. But could you tell me of any teetotal
people? Perhaps your good mother may know some of them."
"My father and brother are both total abstainers," said Susan.
"Oh, dear me, how glad I am! Would you ask one of them just to call in
here, for I've got a lodger very ill, and he won't touch anything the
doctor orders, except just the medicine; but the brandy, and wine, and
things he won't even look at, and begged me not to bring anything of
the sort into his room. I've always heard tell that when doctors order
things, it's lawful for those temperance people to take them, and this
poor man says he has taken the pledge."
"I will tell my father what you say, and I am sure he will come if he
can do any good," said Susan, as she tripped away.
In a few minutes Mrs. Brooks returned hastily to the parlour, leading a
little boy of four or five years old by the hand.
"Here, Lydia," said she, hurriedly, "just let Dicky stop here a bit;
Sally's gone an errand, and the doctor's come."
"Oh dear, mother; I really can't have him here, he does knock
everything about so."
But Mrs. Brooks was gone, prudently shutting the door upon the
objection.
"Dick, don't touch that, sir! Sit down, and be quiet, do," cried Lydia,
in great disgust, at hands none of the cleanest being laid upon one of
her pink paper patterns. And she seized Master Dick, and bumped him
roughly upon a chair, away from the possibility of touching anything.
Dick sat for a few moments looking defiance, and then slid down, crept
under the table among the pins, and buttons, and beads, and presently
gleaned a fine handful of the same, with a skein of silk and a reel or
two of cotton, all of which went into his small pockets.
The silence was ominous; and, instead of encouraging the child to be
useful in collecting and classifying her stray goods, Miss Brooks was
certain he was in mischief, and hauled him out by the legs, with a slap
for moving from the seat whereon she had placed him.
This was, of course, the signal for a violent yelling, and screaming,
and kicking, and a hand-to-hand fight, poor Miss Lydia very red
and angry, and talking as many exasperated sisters do talk on such
occasions.
"You nasty little plague, I'll master you now, so I will. I hate
children, I do; I can't think what you're good for, always in
everybody's way. There, you wicked boy; how dare you, sir!" And so
on, while Dick, between his kicks and struggles, was paying the same
compliment in return, wondering in a great rage whatever sisters were
made for, and hating the whole race, and Lydia in particular, with a
most vigorous and active hatred.
In the midst of the strife, Mrs. Brooks rushed in.
"Lydia! Dick! What a noise! Aren't you ashamed of yourselves? Couldn't
you keep quiet for a minute?"
"You shouldn't have brought him," pertly exclaimed Lydia; "you know I
can't do my work where he is."
"Bother the work," said the mother, smoothing Dicky's ruffled curls;
"everything has to give way to it, till I'm sick of the sight of it:
it's no good to anybody that I can see."
And she led away the young urchin, who turned with a parting salutation
to his sister in as ugly a grimace as he could manage to form out of
bright blue eyes, a rosy mouth, and cheeks like fresh peaches.
So, where love, and patience, and gentleness might have won obedience
and affection, the opportunity passed away in a declaration of war
between the rival factions, and the indignant grief of an unwise mother.
Lydia's defence of herself and her work was provoked into a very high
key before banging the door, to shut out all her enemies together,
which expressive sound had just rung through the house, startling the
sick lodger, when the street-door opened, no one in the confusion
having heard two or three modest knocks, and Robert Taylor stood before
the ruffled mistress and her pouting pet.
"I beg your pardon, Mrs. Brooks," said he, taking off his cap
respectfully, "I am sent by Mr. Dixon to inquire after a person who has
been working a little for him from Carter and Davis's shop, and who he
heard is lodging here."
"Yes, I dare say it's all right; you mean Mr. Matthew. He's been too
poorly to go to work these three days, and he won't do anything to get
up his strength. Why, sir, he has actually walked to B— and back, ten
miles in all, after his day's work, inquiring, he said, for a letter he
expected: so he's just knocked himself up, and the doctor says he wants
strengthening. I shall be so glad if you'll speak to him and get him to
take proper things to do it, Mr. Robert."
"I shall be glad to do my best, Mrs. Brooks," said Robert: "he has
interested our master very much, and is one of the cleverest workmen
he ever had sent to the office. The man they have sent in his place is
nothing to him for intelligence and skill."
While Robert followed the mother, the daughter stood listening inside
the door she had so rudely shut, fluttering with curiosity and red with
vexation lest Robert should have witnessed anything of the unseemly
strife in which she had been engaged. She had gained sufficient
knowledge of his family to be aware that some principle unknown to her
ruled in their house, and influenced their conduct, and that if she
chose to value the admiration with which she saw the young man regarded
her, she must take care what kind of character she exhibited in his
presence.
She therefore decided to be quite sure of her power before venturing to
presume upon it, and to complete her conquest before she should make up
her mind whether or not to return his regard. She should not object to
be attended, for a time at least, by so good-looking and respectable a
suitor, and she had no doubt of the envy of half the "young ladies" of
her acquaintance.
But Robert left the house that day without even inquiring for her.