"And you have complained to me that you find life dull. Did you find
Miss Grace Donnithorne dull?"
"Oh no; she is very lively, father."
Father slowly crossed one large white hand over the other; then he rose.
"Good-night, Dumps," he said.
"Have you nothing more to say?" I asked.
"Good gracious, child! this is my night for school. I have to give two
lectures to the boys of the First Form. Good-night--good-night."
He did not kiss me--he very seldom did that--but his voice had a very
affectionate tone.
After he had gone I sat for a long time by the fire. The neglected
dinner-things remained on the table; the room was as shabby and as empty
as possible, but not quite as cold as usual. Presently Hannah came in.
She began to clear away the dinner-things.
"Hannah," I said, "I told father about Miss Grace Donnithorne's visit."
"And who in the name of wonder may she be?" asked Hannah.
"Oh, a lady. I let her in myself this afternoon."
"What call have you to be opening the hall door?"
"Didn't you hear a very sharp ring at the hall door about three
o'clock?" I said.
Hannah stood stock-still.
"I did, and I didn't," she replied.
"What do you mean by you did and you didn't?"
"Well, you see, child, I wasn't in the humour to mount them stairs, so I
turned my deaf ear to the bell and shut up my hearing one with
cotton-wool; after that the bell might ring itself to death."
"Then, of course, Hannah, I had to go to the door."
"Had to? Young ladies don't open hall doors."
"Anyhow, I did go to the door, and I let the lady in, and she sat by the
fire. She's a very nice lady indeed; she's about your age, but not
scraggy."
"I'll thank you, Miss Dumps, not to call me names."
"But you are scraggy, for that means thin."
"I may be thin and genteel, and not fat and vulgar, but I won't have it
said of me that I'm scraggy," said Hannah; "and by you too, Miss Dumps,
of all people!"
"Very well, Hannah. _She_ was fat and vulgar, if you like, and _you_
are thin and genteel. Anyhow, I liked her; she was very jolly. She was
about your age."
"How d'you know what age I be?"
"Didn't I see father put it down at the time of the last census?"
"My word! I never knew children were listening. I didn't want my age
known."
"Hannah, you are forty-five."
"And what if I be?"
"That's very old," I said.
"'Tain't," said Hannah.
"It is," I repeated. "I asked Alex one day, and he said it was the age
when women began to drop off."
"Lawks! what does that mean?" said Hannah.
"It's the way he expressed it. I don't want to frighten you, but he
said lots of people died then." Hannah now looked really scared.
"And that's why, Hannah," I continued, "I don't like to see you in your
grandmother's shawl, for I am so awfully afraid your bad cold will mean
your dropping off."
"Master Alex talks nonsense," said Hannah. "You give me a start for a
minute with the sort of gibberish you talk. Forty-five, be I? Well, if
I be, my grandmother lived to eighty, and my grandfather to ninety; and
if I take after him--and they say I have a look of him--I have another
good forty-five years to hang on, so there's no fear of my dropping off
for a bit longer." As these remarks of Hannah's were absolutely
impossible for me to understand, I did not pursue the subject further,
but I said, "Father made such a nice remark to-night!"
"And whatever was that? The Professor is always chary of his talk."
"He said that it was very wrong to be cold, and that the fires ought to
be large and good."
"He said that?"
"Yes, he did. And then I said, `I thought you wanted us to be saving;'
and he said, `It's not saving to catch cold and have doctors' bills.'
So now, Hannah, you have your orders, and we must have a big, big fire
in the parlour during the cold weather."
"Don't bother me any longer," said Hannah. "Your talk is beyond
anything for childishness! What with trying to frighten a body in the
prime of life about her deathbed, and then giving utterance to rubbish
which you put into the lips of the Professor, it is beyond any sensible
person to listen to. It's cotton-wool I'll put in my right ear the next
time I come up to see you, Miss Dumps."
By this time Hannah had filled her tray. She raised it and walked
towards the door. She then, with some skill and strength, placed the
whole weight of the tray on her right arm, and with the left she opened
the door. I have seen waiters in restaurants do that sort of trick, but
I never could understand it. Even if Hannah was dropping off, she must
have some strong muscles, was my reflection.
The next day I went to school as usual. The fog had cleared and it was
fairly bright--not very bright, for it never is in the city part of
London in the winter months.
At school I, as usual, took my place in the same form with Agnes and
Rita Swan. I was glad to see that I got to the head of the form and
they remained in a subordinate position that day. In consequence during
play-hours they were rather less patronising and more affectionate to me
than usual. But I held up my head high and would have little to do with
them. I was much more inclined to be friends with Augusta Moore than
with the Swans just then.
Now, Augusta lived in a very small house a long way from the school.
She was very poor, and lived alone with her mother, whose only child she
was. Augusta was an uncommunicative sort of girl. She worked hard at
her books, and was slow to respond to her schoolfellows' advances of
friendship; but when I said, "May I walk up and down in the playground
with you, Augusta?" she on this occasion made no objection.
She glanced round at me once or twice, and then said, "I don't mind, of
course, your walking with me, Rachel, but I have to read over my poetry
once or twice in order to be sure of saying it correctly."
I asked her if she would like me to hear her, and she was much obliged
when I made this offer; and after a few minutes' pause she handed me the
book, and repeated a very fine piece of poetry with considerable spirit.
When she had come to the end she said, "How many mistakes did I make?"
"I don't know," I answered.
"You don't know? But you said you would hear me."
"I didn't look at the book," I said; "I was so absorbed watching you."
"Oh! then you are no good at all," said Augusta, and she looked really
annoyed. "You must give me back the book and I must read it over
slowly."
"But you know it perfectly--splendidly."
"That won't do. I have to make all the proper pauses, you know, just as
our recitation mistress required, and there mustn't be a syllable too
many or a syllable too few in any of the words, and there mustn't be a
single word transposed. That is the proper way to say poetry, and I
know perfectly well that I cannot repeat Gray's _Elegy_ like that."
I said I was sorry, and she took the book from my hands. Presently she
went away to a distant part of the playground, and I saw her lips moving
as she paced up and down. I walked quickly myself, for I wanted to keep
warm, and just before I went into the house Rita Swan came up to me.
"Well, Dumps," she said, "I wonder how you'll like it?"
"Like what?" I asked.
Rita began to laugh rather immoderately. She looked at Agnes, who also
came up at that moment.
"I don't believe Dumps knows," she said.
"Know what?" I asked angrily.
"Why, what is about to happen. Oh, what a joke!"
"What is it?" I asked again. I was so curious that I didn't mind even
their rude remarks at that moment.
"She doesn't know--she doesn't know!" laughed Rita, and she jumped
softly up and down. "What fun! What fun! Just to think of a thing of
that sort going to take place in her very own house--in her very own,
own house--and she not even to have a suspicion of it!"
"Oh, if it's anything to do with home, I know everything about my home,"
I said in a very haughty tone, "and I don't want you to tell me."
I marched past the two girls and entered the schoolroom. But during the
rest of the morning I am afraid I was not very attentive to my lessons.
I could not help wondering what they meant, and what there was to know.
But of course there was nothing. They were such silly girls, and I
could not understand for one moment how I had ever come to be friends
with them.
At one o'clock I went home, and there, lying on the parlour table, was a
letter addressed to me. Now it is true, although some girls may smile
when they read these words, I had never before received a letter. I
have never made violent friendships. I met my school friends, for what
they were worth, every day; I had no near relations of any sort, and
father was always at home except for the holidays, when he took us
children to some very cheap and very dreary seaside place. There was
really no one to write to me, and therefore no one ever did write. So a
letter addressed to Miss Rachel Grant made my heart beat. I took it up
and turned it round and round, and looked at it back and front, and did
all those strange things that a person will do to whom a letter is a
great rarity and something precious.
I heard the boys tramping into the house at that moment, and I thrust
the letter into my pocket. Presently father came in, and we sat down to
our midday meal. Luckily for me, neither father nor the boys knew
anything about the letter; but it was burning a hole in my pocket, and I
was dying for the boys to return to school, and for father to go back to
his classes, so that I might have an opportunity of opening the precious
epistle.
Just as father was leaving the room he turned back to me and said, "You
may accept it if you like."
"What, father?" I said in some astonishment.
"When it is offered to you, you may accept it."
He stooped and, to my great astonishment, kissed me on the forehead.
Then he left the room, and a minute or two later left the house.
What could he mean? Would the letter explain? Was there anything at
all in the strange words of Agnes and Rita Swan?
Of course, any ordinary girl would have relieved her curiosity by
tearing open the letter; but I was somewhat slow and methodical in my
movements, and wished to prolong my luxury as much as possible. I had
the whole long afternoon in which to learn a few stupid lessons, and
then to do nothing.
Just then Hannah came up to remove the lunch-things. She seemed so sure
that I would tackle her about her age that she had stuck cotton-wool
into her right ear. I therefore did not speak at all; I was most
anxious for her to depart. At last she did so, banging the door
fiercely behind her. I heard her tramping off with her tray, and then I
knew that my moment of bliss had arrived.
I got a knife and very deliberately cut the flap of the envelope open at
the top. I then slipped my hand into the precious enclosure and took
out its contents. I opened the sheet of paper; I could read writing
quite well, and this writing was plain and quite intelligible to any
ordinary eyes.
On the top of the sheet of paper were written the words, "Hedgerow
House, near Chelmsford, Essex," and the letter ran as follows:
"My dear Rachel or Dumps,--I want to know if you will come on Saturday
next to pay me a little visit until Tuesday evening. I have heard
that it is half-term holiday at your school, and should like you to
see my pretty house and this pretty place. I believe I can give you a
good time, so trust you will come.--Yours sincerely, Grace
Donnithorne.
"P.S.--In case you say yes, I will expect you by the train which
leaves Liverpool Street at ten o'clock in the morning. I shall be
waiting with the pony and cart at Chelmsford at eleven o'clock, and
will drive you straight to Hedgerow House.
"P.S. 2.--I have a great many pets. I trust you will be nice about
them. Don't fear my little dog; his bark is worse than his bite.
"P.S. 3.--Your clothes will do; don't bother about getting a fresh
wardrobe."
This extraordinary letter caused a perfect tumult in my heart. I had
never gone on a visit in my life. I really was a very stranded sort of
girl. Hitherto I had had no outlets of any sort; I was just Dumps, a
squat, rather plain girl, who knew little or nothing of the world--a
neglected sort of girl, I have no doubt; but then I had no mother.
A warm glow came all over me as I read the letter. The half-term
holiday had not been looked forward to with any feelings of rapture by
me. I could well guess what, under ordinary circumstances, would
happen. I should be indoors all the morning as well as all the
afternoon, for the half-term holiday was so planned that it should not
in any way clash with the boys' half-term holiday. If Alex and Charley
had had a holiday at the same time, I might have coaxed one of them at
least to come for a walk with me in Regent's Park, or to take me to the
British Museum, or to the Zoo, or to some other sort of London treat;
but I shouldn't be allowed to go out alone, and at present I was not in
the humour to ask either Agnes or Rita Swan to entertain me. Now I need
ask nobody, for I was going away on a visit. Of course, I understood at
last the meaning of father's words, "You may accept it;" though it
seemed strange at the time, now I knew all about it, and my excitement
was so great that I could scarcely contain myself.
The first business was to answer the precious letter. I sat down and
replied that I should be delighted to come to Miss Grace Donnithorne on
the following Saturday, that I would be sure to be at Liverpool Street
in good time to catch the train, that I adored pets, and was not at all
afraid even of barking dogs. I did not mind going in a shabby dress,
and above all things I hoped she would call me Rachel, and not Dumps.
Having written my letter, which took me a long time, for I was
unaccustomed to writing of that sort, I got an envelope and addressed it
to Miss Grace Donnithorne, Hedgerow House, near Chelmsford, Essex, and
then went out and dropped it into the nearest pillar-box. When I
returned the afternoon had fled and it was time for tea.
Father came in to tea. This was unexpected; he had not often time to
leave his classes and rush across to the house to have tea; but he came
in on this occasion, and when he saw me in the parlour bending over the
warm fire making toast, he said at once, "Have you accepted it?"
"Then you know all about it, father?" I exclaimed. "Oh yes," he said,
with a grave and yet queer smile trembling for an instant on his lips
and then vanishing.
"I thought that must be what you meant, and I have accepted it," I said.
"I mean about going to Miss Grace Donnithorne's."
"Yes, child; it is very kind of her to ask you."
"Yes, isn't it, father? And she is so nice and considerate; she says I
may go in my shabby clothes."
"Your shabby clothes, Rachel!" he replied, putting on his spectacles and
looking at me all over. "Your shabby clothes! Why should they be
shabby?"
"Well, father," I answered, "they are not very smart. You know you
haven't given me a new dress for over a year, and my best pale-blue,
which I got the summer before last, is very short in the skirt, and also
in the sleeves. But never mind," I continued, as he looked quite
troubled; "I'll do; I know I'll do."
He looked at his watch.
"I declare," he said, "this will never answer. I don't wish my
daughter, Professor Grant's daughter, to go away on a visit, and of all
people to Miss Grace Donnithorne, shabby. Look here, Dumps, can these
things be bought to hand?"
"What do you mean, father?"
He took up a portion of my skirt.
"Things of that sort--can they be bought ready to put on?"
"Oh, I expect so, father."
"They're to be found in the big shops, aren't they?"
"Yes, yes," I said warmly, for it seemed to me that a new vista of
wonderful bliss was opening out before me. "Of course they are. We
could go to--to Wallis's shop at Holborn Viaduct. I have been there
sometimes with the boys, and I've seen all sorts of things in the
windows."
"Then go upstairs, put on your hat and jacket immediately, and I'll take
you there. You shall not go shabby to Miss Grace Donnithorne's."
Wonder of wonders! I rushed up to my room; I put on my short, very much
worn little jacket, and slipped my hat on my head, thrust my hands into
my woollen gloves, and, lo! I was ready. I flew down again to father.
He looked hard at me.
"But, after all, you _are_ quite well covered," he said. It had
certainly never before dawned upon his mind that a woman wanted to be
more than, as he expressed it, covered.
"But, father," I said, "you can be shabbily covered and prettily
covered. That makes all the difference; doesn't it, father?"
"I don't know, child; I don't know. When I read in the great works of
Sophocles--"
He wandered off into a learned dissertation. I was accustomed to these
wanderings of his, and often had to pull him back.
"I'm ready," I said, "if you are."
"Then come along," was his remark.
When the Professor got out of doors he walked very fast indeed. He
walked at such a fearful pace that I had nearly to run to keep up with
him. But at last we found ourselves at Wallis's. There my father
became extremely masterful. He said to the shopman who came to meet
him, "I want new garments for this young lady. Show me some, please--
some that will fit--those that are ready-made."
We were taken into a special department where all sorts of dresses were
to be found. Now, I had my own ideas about clothes, which by-and-by
would turn out quite right and satisfactory; but father's ideas were too
primitive for anything. He disliked my interfering; he would not
consult me. In the end I was furbished up with a long brown skirt which
reached to my feet, and a dark-red blouse. My father bought these
garments because he said they felt weighty and would keep out the cold.
He desired them to be packed in brown-paper, paid for them, and gave me
the parcel to carry.
I felt a sense of absolute misery as I walked home with my hideous brown
skirt and that dreadful red blouse. It was of a dark brick-red colour,
and would not suit me; I knew that quite well. Still, father was highly
pleased.
"There, now," he said, "you won't go to Miss Grace Donnithorne's looking
shabby. But, good gracious me! I'm five minutes late for class.
Good-night, Dumps."
"Won't you be in to dinner, father?" I asked.
"I don't know--don't expect to. Now, not another word, or I shall have
one of my furious headaches. Good-night, my dear."
He banged the hall door, and I sat down with the brown-paper parcel in
front of me.