I had at times complained about the folk of the neighbourhood; some
made money rather suddenly and appeared anxious to persuade the
residents that they belonged to aristocratic families; a few took up
an attitude of reserve that could be easily mistaken for contempt.
But, in the misfortune which had overtaken my people, their behaviour
left no room for criticism. It was not only Colonel Edgington who
showed kindness. I stayed the night in Miss Katherine's room, which was
amongst the apartments that had escaped, and when I went out in the
morning and walked along to the Colonel's house I found, even at that
early hour, cars outside and messages being delivered, and all sorts of
hospitality tendered. If we had cared to accept them, we could have put
up at a dozen houses.
"Thank you ever so much," said Miss Katherine, taking the duty of
answering. "It is really sporting of you, but we shall be perfectly all
right here for a few days. And then we shall have to find a new house."
"At Chislehurst?"
"Not at Chislehurst. I think my father intends to butt in at some other
neighbourhood."
"Quite natural in the circumstances. Be sure to let us know if there is
anything we can do."
Under her breath Miss Katherine said, "Oh do push off!"
The old gardener, in a sobered morning mood, had given himself up at
the police station, but Mr. Hillier declined to take any proceedings.
(We heard, later, that the gardener, acutely disappointed, again tried
the remedy of beer, and was eventually fined ten shillings for being
drunk and disorderly; a tame finish, so far as he was concerned, to the
whole incident.) Mr. Hillier wished to make another effort to discover
the auctioneer, but I told him there was not enough of property
remaining to justify a public sale, and that if he determined to get
rid of everything, I could arrange with my brother-in-law at Greenwich
to make a valuation, and to give a fair price.
"See to it, Weston," he directed, cheerily. "I have been talking it
over with Mrs. Hillier, and we agree that we want to begin afresh.
We're going to make a new start."
"Very glad, sir, that you are all taking it so well."
"I've an idea that the fates have used their last cartridge. It's a
relief, Weston."
"Afraid you haven't yet heard what Master John has done."
"But that," he declared, "is the best news I have had for months. It's
good to think he joined up without advice or encouragement. To tell you
the truth, I was afraid that he might be afraid. And that would have
been, not so much the last straw, as a whole truss of it to carry on my
back all through the war."
"Don't know what Herbert's father will say."
"I can guess," said Mr. Hillier, confidently. "Everything depends now
on what our lads do for us."
The two young men left directly after breakfast. They had passed the
medical examination, it seemed, at the schools near St. Martin's
Church, Trafalgar Square, and although Master John was rather short for
a guardsman, they urged their desire to be in the same regiment, and
it had been arranged they should join the Coldstreams at Wellington
Barracks. We all came out to wish them good luck, and Colonel Edgington
took off his straw hat, and, waving it, led the three cheers. I
mentioned to him that to see the two going away side by side--my
mistress's son and my own nephew--was one of the proofs that a war
existed. "You'll see mightier changes than that," he remarked. "People
who know nothing whatever about it are saying it'll all be over by
Christmas." I expressed the hope it would not last so long. "Indeed,"
he cried, explosively, "and you're as big an idiot as the rest of them.
In this respect, I mean," he added. Later, the Colonel took me aside,
and spoke in confidence. He asked me to believe that his house was at
the disposal of the family for an indefinite period, but he knew it
would be better for the Hilliers if the move which had to be made were
effected quickly, and whilst the excitement of recent occurrences was
still about. "Do just what you think is best," he said.
Herbert's father kept a second-hand furniture shop in London Street,
Greenwich, and whilst my sister was alive the business had been
prosperous; on her last day, she gave such precise instructions
concerning the boy's career that Millwood had never attempted to depart
from them. I took an afternoon train to New Cross, and the tram-car
from outside the station there, and found Millwood setting up a map
in the window of the shop and adjusting small flags upon it; a crowd
stood watching interestedly. Children, free from school (their holidays
were afterwards cut short) marched along banging toy drums, and wearing
paper hats. The newspaper placards gave the information, "Kitchener at
the War Office." Groups were talking and arguing on the pavement.
"Knowed my boy'd be one of the fust to offer hisself," said Millwood.
My sister improved his manner of talking a good deal, in her lifetime,
but when she left, he dropped back into his earlier methods. "I says,
soon as ever I heard about the war being started, I says to myself,
'Mark my words. Young 'Erb'll be in this. Right in the very thick of
it.'"
"Good to find you accept it like this. You being such an out and out
Radical--"
"How could I accept it otherwise?" he demanded, warmly. "And can't a
Radical be as partial to his country as what the bigoted dunderheaded
Tories is? I remember hearing Bradlaugh say once--"
"I haven't called to talk politics."
"Because you know very well, Mary Weston, which of us comes the best
off when you and me do have an argument."
"I do know. And I must say you generally accept your beating in very
good part."
"I never get beaten in no discussion," he shouted, "and if I did, I
shouldn't accept it in the way you describe. Often feel uncommon glad
that I didn't pick out you instead of your poor sister. I might ha'
done, but for what I may term the intervention of Providence. You was
better educated than her, and to tell you the truth nothing but that
saved me from making the blunder of a lifetime."
"I should perhaps have had a word or two to say in the matter."
"Can't imagine any subject on which you wouldn't."
I had to talk him round because there was a favour to be asked. He
declared, at first, that he had no wish to add to his stock or to his
responsibilities; of the second, I knew nothing, but I could see that
the contents of the shop had scarcely altered since my previous visit
on the occasion when the funeral took place. There were dilapidated
writing desks that no one seemed to require; a suite of chairs with
red plush that had nearly lost colour from exposure to the sun, a
cabinet out of the perpendicular owing to partial failure of one leg,
an easy chair with broken springs, engravings in mottled frames of
events in the life of Queen Victoria, a tipsy-looking music stand, a
bookcase that ought to have revolved but had lost the trick. It was but
necessary to hint at the misfortunes that had overtaken the Hillier
family, to secure Millwood's aid. He was ready to see the furniture,
to offer a good price for it on my behalf, to attend to the removal and
the storing. Two young women came in whilst we were arranging this,
and asked Millwood for the address of the local newspaper. He gave
the directions, and they mentioned that they wished, by means of an
advertisement, to let their furnished flat in Gloucester Place. "We are
going off nursing," they mentioned, animatedly. I came forward, and
put some questions, and within five minutes I was looking through the
rooms in their company, and inside of a quarter of an hour I had come
to an agreement with them. The rooms were old-fashioned in build, and
pleasant to look upon; Gloucester Place, with The Circus, bow shaped,
opposite had, in their day, been the society part of Greenwich; a large
railed garden was set between the two rows of houses; a broad roadway
led in from Royal Hill, and a narrower one went out to Crooms' Hill,
and to the Park. To Gloucester Place a touch of modernity had been
given by the conversion of one house into County Council offices. At
the very top of the residence I inspected were two rooms, not occupied,
and not furnished. Before I left, I saw the agent, and took these for a
quarter at a rent I could well afford. The ground floor, I ascertained,
was occupied by a quiet, elderly couple.
"Depend upon me," said Millwood. "And as you're coming to live in my
neighbourhood, mind you drop in whenever you have the opportunity,
Mary Weston, or the wish to do so. I foresee that with both political
parties coming into line over this fighting business, life for a public
man like myself is going to be jest a trifle monotonous. I shall get
stale if I don't find someone to have a few friendly words with."
It pleased him when I gave him an order to pick up one or two
articles of furniture I indicated from a sales room with which he was
acquainted.
I went home and announced the result of my journey. I settled with cook
and the two housemaids and sent them off in a good temper. I rang up
the agent for the owner of The Croft, and advised him to give notice
to his insurance people. I took the two young ladies to the house and
found old trunks in the cellars, packed some of their clothes that the
fire had not damaged; Miss Muriel appeared inclined to be sentimental
over the task, but Miss Katherine chaffed her out of this, pointing out
that the verses composed by her sister that morning, with, for opening
lines,
"Home of my childhood, oh where art thou gone,
The fire has consumed thee, thy loss I bemoan"
had, if looked upon as poetry, certain merits, and if considered as a
statement of facts, many inaccuracies. It was not, she declared, the
home of Miss Muriel's childhood, unless that period could be reckoned
to start at the age of seventeen. The house had not gone, and it could
not be said with truth that the fire had consumed it, for here it was,
requiring only the aid of a builder and carpenter to make it habitable
for new tenants.
"And that's that!" she said, summing up briskly. "You chuck poetry, my
beloved sister. There's no money in it, and you never use it except as
a medium for grousing."
"I mean to write some verses about the war," said Miss Muriel,
resolutely.
"If it gets known, peace will be arranged without delay. Besides, I
thought you were going on the stage. Weston, can we give you a hand
with your packing?"
"Couldn't think of asking you to do that, Miss Katherine."
"Which, being interpreted," she said, "means that even you, with all
your common sense, have not yet realised all that has occurred. Tell
me: you have money put by, haven't you?"
"A trifle, Miss Katherine."
"So that you are now above us. You are better off than we are. You are
a plutocrat, Weston. At any moment, some gay spark may come along on
his motor cycle, wed you for the sake of your riches, take you off in
his side car."
"A pity," I said, to change the subject, "that neither of you young
ladies had contrived to get married before all this happened. It would
have simplified matters a good deal."
"Perhaps," she remarked, "we have hitherto been too ambitious. In
the new circumstances, I shall be ready to listen to any honourable
proposal from a baker. No," correcting herself. "Let me not sink too
low. A confectioner. A confectioner, near a school. And over military
age."
"There won't be many young men left if this fighting goes on for long."
"'How happy,'" quoted Miss Katherine, "'is the blameless vestal's lot,
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.' By Pope, my dear Muriel,
Pope. A gentleman who was in the line of business you have recently
taken up."
We managed to finish the task, and a greengrocer undertook to convey
the packages to Colonel Edgington's house. I was under the impression
that everything was going well and smoothly, when a telegram came
from the two young women at Greenwich. "Find course of lectures
indispensable. We remain in flat for a time."
The delay which ensued became one of the most trying details of the
whole affair. If I had been able to whisk the family off as I intended
to do, if it had all been done whilst the excitement was upon us, if
we had been able to give a hurried good-bye to Chislehurst and then
disappear, why, I do believe the job would have proved easy enough.
There was the alternative of finding other rooms, but I had fixed my
mind on the arrangement at Greenwich, and when it was suggested to me
privately by Colonel Edgington that this might be done--
"Not a word to the others, mind, Weston. Don't want them to think I'm
tired of their company."
Then I talked about contracts, and represented the two impetuous girls
at Gloucester Place as square-headed, obstinate women of business; I
hinted that to argue with them or plead to them was like contending
against a brick wall. So the Hilliers stayed on, and each day brought
for me some discouraging occurrence. Mr. Hillier, with nothing else
to do, went back to his habit of mooning about: the Colonel was very
good, and always endeavoured to give him his company, but the master
seemed to prefer solitude, and whenever he could manage it, contrived
to slip away for a lonely walk. Mrs. Hillier, dismissing all thoughts
of the immediate past, allowed herself to be taken up by her friends
in the neighbourhood, and readily agreed to take positions--for which
she was in no way fitted--in the charitable work that had been started
with feverish and excitable energy. The idea was, at the time, that
there would be an enormous amount of distress in London, and meetings
were held, and speeches made, and Mrs. Hillier when asked to take any
part, succeeded in making just about as big a fool of herself as it was
possible to do. I told her so. I told her so plainly, and we came very
near to parting from each other on account of this. I suppose I was
becoming irritable over the postponement of my scheme, and I certainly
did not like the notion of all of us staying on at Colonel Edgington's
for an indefinite period. One word led to another, and I happened to
use a phrase without giving due consideration to it.
"Imposing on good nature?" she echoed, amazedly.
"We'll call it sponging, if you like."
"Weston," she said, with dignity, "you are, and you have been for some
weeks past, free to leave my service. The wages due will be paid so
soon as Mr. Hillier has had time to look about him."
"He's doing that now. And precious little of anything else."
"It is not for you to criticise your master. That is one of my
privileges, and I think I may say that I have never failed to take
advantage of it. For the moment, my powers in this respect are directed
against yourself. You are forgetting, Weston, the position you hold,
and unless you think fit to remember it, I shall have to ask you to go."
"You know as well as I do, ma'am, that I can't leave you all like this.
You'll be lost without my help, and I should have it on my conscience
for the rest of my life."
Master Edward rushed in. He had been down the hill to the station,
seeing train loads of soldiers go through, and, with the assistance of
other boys, cheering them. He began to tell us of his experiences but,
recognising an unusual tension in the air, dashed off at once to find
his sister Katherine. When she came, the trouble was soon adjusted. I
apologised to Mrs. Hillier, and Mrs. Hillier apologised to me, and we
both said it was all a misunderstanding, and one that would not happen
again.
But I went over, that afternoon, to Greenwich, and waited there until
the young women arrived home from their lecture at the Polytechnic.
Millwood had carried out my instructions very well; the two rooms on
the top floor needed only a few more bits of hay to make them into a
comfortable nest. The two came in, tired with study; all the animation
they had shown at our first encounter seemed to have vanished.
"Of course," said the elder, desolately, "we are sorry for the
inconvenience that is being caused, but you have no idea how much there
is to be learnt before one can be reckoned a capable nurse."
"Have you considered the advisability of trying anything else?"
"We most particularly want to tend wounded soldiers."
"But," I argued, "wounded soldiers don't want to be tended by people
who can't tend."
"Seems a pity."
"Now, if you care to leave it to me," I said, "I'll find out whether
there's anything else you could start upon. What do you say?"
"It must be something we can do at once," they urged. "We appear to be
wasting time."
I hurried along to the Miller Hospital, and consulted a Sister there
whom I had known for years. She told me that hospitals in London, and
at other places, were on the defensive owing to the strong attacks
made by unqualified, but well-intentioned ladies. For example, a
society woman attended one of the classes and said, at the end, to
the lecturer, that she had gained a considerable amount of knowledge
by the afternoon, but that as she was going abroad with an ambulance
party, she thought it would be advisable perhaps to come to a second
afternoon. The lecturer retorted that she herself had been learning
the business of nursing for ten years, and still felt she had much
to learn. "Ah, yes," said the society woman, "but you see, I'm
exceptionally quick." The Sister told me other anecdotes of the period,
and then considered the problem set before her.
"Let them become gardeners," she decided. "Gardeners at a convalescent
home I'm acquainted with."
A reply paid telegram was sent, and, before I left the hospital, the
answer had been received. Taking it to Gloucester Place, I used the
best argumentative qualities at my disposal. Here was a noble chance
of taking--in all likelihood--the places of two men who would thus be
released for the purposes of the war. Good, healthy out-door work,
and later, when soldiers came to the home, there would be a splendid
opportunity of instructing them in arts connected with the land. "An
opening of a lifetime," I urged. They confessed they had been brought
up on a farm, and knew something of agricultural tasks, but it was
dear the attraction of becoming second Florence Nightingales was too
great to be relinquished hastily. I mentioned that, if they insisted on
becoming nurses they would probably find themselves at a hospital in
London; the chances of being sent abroad were small, and I furnished
details of the hard labour probationers were called on to perform.
"If we did accept this offer," asked one, "do you think we should be
allowed to wear some kind of uniform?"
"Sure you would," promptly. "And when the War Office takes over the
home, why, of course, you will be under Government control."
This settled the matter. I found an A.B.C. and selected a train; sent
a wire announcing the time of their arrival; fetched a cab from the
station yard, helped the driver with their trunks. They shook hands
with me gratefully, and alluded to me as a treasure, and a perfect dear.
That evening, my people arrived at Gloucester Place, and even Miss
Muriel could discover no fault in the new surroundings. Mr. Hillier
took Master Edward down to the riverside whilst we were arranging the
different rooms; they came back enthusiastic regarding the shipping,
the London steamboats, the College, the view from the Observatory. For
the first time since the Saturday before the Bank Holiday we made no
reference in conversation to the war, and I abstained from mentioning
that a placard of an evening journal bore the words, "France fighting
for its Life now." Nor did I repeat a scrap of talk I heard near the
station between two Deptford women. "And ain't it a shame," said one,
"to think that all this trouble has been caused by the Germin Emperor."
The other shook her head. "It ain't the Germin Emperor what's to
blame," she said, correctingly. "It's the Kayser." Boys ran around The
Circus bawling news, and we took no notice of them. Master Edward came
out strongly on historical subjects, and told us of all the Royal folk
who had lived at Greenwich, from King Henry the Eighth, onward; it
seemed to make us feel that we had really gained in social position by
the removal. Mr. Hillier mentioned that history was interesting enough
to look back upon, but trying to live with; Master Edward expressed
sympathy for the boys who came after him and would have to learn all
about the present war. The master and Mrs. Hillier conferred with each
other near a window that looked across at The Circus. I heard her say,
"You must tell her, James. If I try to do so, I shall simply break
down." He beckoned to me, and we went out on the landing.
"Weston," he said, clearing his voice rather nervously, "I've shut the
offices in Basinghall Street, and it wasn't pleasant to say good-bye
to men who have worked for me and with me during past years. And
now a duty has been imposed upon me that I should very much like to
escape. But someone has to do it, and I suppose--The fact is, we are
very grateful to you for all you have done for us in this trying and
exacting predicament, and we are obliged to you for piloting us safely
to this new--er--harbour." He hesitated, and went on again. "You have,
I take it, made your own plans, Weston?"
"Yes, sir."
"Very well, then. It only remains to say good-bye, and to give you this
small envelope that contains the wages due. I ask you to believe that
the sum in no way represents our indebtedness--"
"Look here, sir," I interrupted. "I know all about the finances of the
establishment, and if I take this money I shall be taking nearly the
last penny you have. You just let it stand over. Any time will do for
settling with me."
"Good of you."
"And as regards future arrangements, I'm going to live on the top
floor, and I shall be in and about in a friendly sort of way whenever
I'm wanted. The mistress and the young ladies have been used to plenty
of help and attention, and I don't wish all that cut off suddenly at
the main, so to speak. My wages stop from to-day, and when matters get
brighter--and that may not be long ahead--why they can start again."
"Weston," he declared, "the State ought to be making you, just now, a
generous allowance. You should be put in charge of the ray of sunshine
department. You are a mascot. You're a sheet anchor. So long as you are
with us, we shall feel ourselves safe. God bless you!"
In the morning, I went down early to answer the milkman's knock.
Content to gain new customers, he told me an important item of
information which had come to him direct from no less an authority than
the pier-master at the end of King William Street. Russian troops, in
enormous numbers, were on the way _via_ Archangel, and would shortly
pass through England on the way to France. The pier-master's idea was
that this would settle the war in less than no time.
"But don't give it away, miss," begged the milkman, urgently. "Don't
mention it to anyone, because it's a secret, and only a few of us, who
can be depended upon to keep it dark, are supposed to know anything
about it."
* * * * *
We were all of us to blame, more or less, for the circulation of
rumours, but the chief responsibility in my own immediate district had
to be placed upon Arthur. Arthur was--it sounds like an extract from
a French lesson book--the brother of our greengrocer's wife; the lady
professed to be suffering from nerves in consequence of the war (she
had no relatives engaged in the struggle, and felt, I think, that it
was necessary for her to take up a distinguished attitude in order
to avoid the pain of being reckoned of no account) and Arthur had
previously been spoken of by her as a West End club-man, one who mixed
with the aristocrats, not so much on equal terms as on terms of high
superiority.
"Great shock to him when I went and married a tradesman," she confided
to me. "I recollect so well the words he said to me at the time.
'Julia,' he said, 'promise that you'll never on any account do a hand's
stroke of work in the shop.' And," triumphantly, "I've kept my word,
even on Saturday nights." Her husband, instead of being annoyed, and
rating her for indolence, took great pride in the aloof attitude thus
taken up; he was in the habit of referring to her, in conversation, as
his little Queen of Sheba.
It appeared--when a doctor had been sent for and admitted, after he
had cross-examined and investigated, that he could not give a name
to her ailment (the greengrocer's wife was enormously conceited over
this, counting it as a victory for herself), and when the oft-mentioned
brother called and asked me to keep an eye on her--that the description
of West End club-man was exact, but not complete. He was, in point of
fact, a hall porter at a club, where he described himself as second in
command, and his hours were from eight o'clock in the evening until
three in the morning or earlier if there happened to be no member
remaining in the establishment.
"And you'll easily understand," he said, with an effort at modesty,
"that in my position, I get to hear about a large quantity of matters
that under the present arrangement of keeping nearly everything out
of the newspapers, won't be mentioned in print, for months to come,
perhaps not at all. So in return for the kindness you are going to show
to my sister Julia, I shall make it my business to bring down to you,
miss, any little tit-bits of information that come my way, because,
with a nephew in the army you must feel specially interested. Do you
follow what I'm driving at?"
I take some credit to myself for making a selection from the
particulars brought, later, by Arthur. When he prefaced an announcement
by--"Looked in at the club, I did, on me way, and the last thing in on
the tape machine was to the effect that----" then I felt justified in
assuming that the news had association with truth. But when he said,
"Overheard one of our gentlemen, I did, talking to another in the
lounge last night, after dinner, and he said, as distinctly as ever he
could speak that--" then I knew that here was something which required
a good deal of salt before it could be accepted, something it would
be wise not to pass on to other folk. Apparently there was, in the
West End, all the keen desire to be early in the field with news, that
existed in minor districts of town, with an added gift for invention.
At times Arthur brought a double load, and one was called upon to take
a share in a perfect orgie of rumours. Of notable public men (alive
to-day) who had been rushed off to the Tower, and shot, without trial
or any unnecessary fuss--
"They tie him to a chair in the Range," said Arthur, exultantly, "six
Guardsmen come along from Wellington Barracks, their rifles are loaded,
the party in the chair is blindfolded, the sergeant gives the word of
command, and then--shoot, bang, fire!--and there's no more headaches
for him! Do you follow what I'm driving at?"
Of members of the Government in the pay of Germany, and making money
hand over foot; Arthur said darkly that their names were known to him,
and they had best be careful. Of the utter and complete uselessness of
these Zeppelins that Germany was bragging about; Arthur explained to me
a means of bringing down an enemy air-ship, so simple that it appeared
to be within the capacity of any boy of ten. Of a remark made by the
wife of a Cabinet Minister to her lady's maid, and transferred by many
and devious routes, and losing nothing, it was certain, on the way.
Of optimists who knew for a matter of absolute fact that Germany's
finances would not allow her to continue the struggle for longer
than six weeks from now, and of pessimists who said (as the old lady
remarked when she heard that Spa Road Station was to be closed), "This
war is really getting beyond a joke!"
Until the greengrocer's wife--finding that people were ceasing to
inquire after her health and discovering too that, on one occasion her
brother called on me without visiting her--until she announced that
by exercise of strength of will she had cured herself, where doctors
proved of no avail, we were well supplied with rumours, and could have
sold them, at a profit, at two for three half-pence. For the rest, came
throughout the day, and every day more reliable news on the posters,
and often these announcements were staggering blows that made one feel
as sick and as helpless as a defeated team in football; sometimes the
punishment was followed by a cheering and encouraging smile from the
fates, and for the moment, disasters were forgotten. Take it as well as
one might, it was a trying period and one cannot pretend any desire to
live through it again.
Arthur, on his last call, said that he had found my company very
soothing, and assured me that but for the existence of a wife and six
children, living at Fulham, nothing would have prevented him from
making me a definite and honorable proposal.
"Wish I'd met you earlier," said the hall porter, speaking tremulously,
"but there it is, and it's little use grumbling about what can't be
remedied. Do you follow what I'm driving at? All the same, I wish
you every prosperity, miss, and when the right man comes along--he's
a trifle late, if you don't mind me saying so, but he may have been
detained--why, I'll trust you'll recognise him, and that you'll both
live happy ever afterwards!"