BARGAINING.
“You see, my love,” proceeded Mrs. Harper, in a smooth, insinuating
tone, “it is not _every one_ who would take you back under the
circumstances;” and she paused, and peered at the girl over her
spectacles with a significant air. (The circumstances of five hundred
pounds, thought her listener bitterly.) “Will you give me your word
of honour that you have not been doing anything--unbecoming--anything
that--that--would reflect on your reputation? My dear, you need not
look so red and indignant. I’m only an old woman. I mean no offence.”
“I have done nothing to be ashamed of, or which I shall ever blush for
or regret,” rejoined Madeline, impressively; “and to that I can give my
word of honour. But, Mrs. Harper, you ask strange questions--and I am
no longer at school.”
“Well, well, my dear--well, well; we _did_ hear that you were in the
mantle department at Marshall and Snelgrove’s. I believe there are
ladies in these establishments;” and then she added craftily, “You have
such a nice, tall, slight figure--for trying on things. You were always
so graceful, and had such taking manners!”
“I was not there, Mrs. Harper,” returned Madeline; “and I cannot tell
you where I was, beyond that I lived with a friend, and that I was very
poor.”
“A friend, at Solferino Place?” quickly.
“Yes”--with visible reluctance--“at Solferino Place. And now what do
you want with me, Mrs. Harper?” she asked, with unexpected boldness.
“Well, I wish”--clearing her throat--“and so does Letitia, to let
bygones be bygones; to allow your father to find you here, as if you
had _never_ been away; to hush up your escapade--for though, of course,
I believe you--it might sound a little curious to him. No one knows why
you left, excepting Selina--Mrs. Murphy. It happened in the holidays.
These girls are a new set, and have never heard of you; and, even if
they had, they would not meet Mr. West, as he arrives during the Easter
term. Do you agree to this?”
“Yes,” replied Madeline, with sudden pallor, but a steady voice, “I
agree; it will be best.”
“That is arranged, then,” said the old diplomatist, briskly. “And, now,
what about the money?--what about that? Shall we keep the five hundred
pounds, and give you the balance?”
In former days Madeline would have assented to this proposition at
once; but now her heart beat tumultuously as she thought of Laurence
and the baby. She must secure all she could for their sakes, and,
feeling desperately nervous, she replied--
“No, I can’t quite see that, Mrs. Harper. To one year’s payment and
interest you are, of course, entitled; but the second year I worked for
my living--worked very hard indeed. You can scarcely expect to take two
hundred pounds, as well as my services--gratis.”
But Mrs. Harper _had_ expected it confidently, and this unlooked-for
opposition was a blow. Madeline was not as nice as she used to be, and
she must really put some searching questions to her respecting her
absence, if she was going to be so horribly grasping about money; and
Madeline, blushing for very shame as she bargained with this old female
Shylock, reluctantly yielded one hundred pounds for the year she had
been pupil-teacher. It was money versus character--and a character is
expensive.
Mrs. Harper, on her part, undertook to arrange Madeline’s past very
completely, and Madeline felt that it must be veiled from her father
for the present--at any rate, until Laurence was better, and able to
resume work and a foothold on existence.
She had assured him yesterday that she would steal for him if
necessary. Was not this as bad, she asked herself, bargaining and
chaffering thus over her father’s money, and dividing it with the
greedy old creature at her side? However, she was to have one hundred
and eighty pounds for her share. Oh, riches! Oh, what could she not do
with that sum?
She was to return to her friends at Solferino Place for three
weeks--(she had struggled and battled fiercely for this concession, and
carried the day)--was then to return to Harperton, and be subsequently
escorted to Plymouth by Miss Harper, who would personally restore her
to her father’s arms.
After the morning’s exciting business, Madeline was wearied, flushed,
and had a splitting headache. She was not sorry to share Mrs. Harper’s
excellent tea, and to be allowed to take off her dress and go and lie
down in a spare room upstairs--a room once full, but now empty--and
there she had a long think; and, being completely worn out, a long,
long sleep.
After dinner--early dinner--she went out with Miss Harper, and the
money--her share--was paid to her without delay. She had stipulated for
this. Could it be possible that it was she, Madeline Wynne, who stood
opposite to the cashier’s desk cramming notes and sovereigns into her
sixpenny purse? As they pursued their walk, Madeline recognized a few
old faces, and many old places. She purchased a new hat, which she put
on in the shop; and she heard, to her relief, that the Wolfertons had
left, and gone to live abroad. Some former schoolfellows, now grown
up--no young plant grows quicker than a schoolgirl--recognized and
accosted her. These had been day-boarders. They mentally remarked that
she had turned out very different to what they expected, and that she
looked much older than her age. “She was staying at Mrs. Harper’s, was
she?”
Before they had time to ask the hundred and one questions with which
they were charged, Miss Harper prudently hurried her pupil away,
saying, as she did so--
“Least said, soonest mended, my dear. It’s well you had on your new
hat! Now you had better get some gloves.”
She was not quite as keen about the money as her mother, and was
inclined--nay, anxious--to be amiable. Madeline West, the great
Australian heiress, had possibilities in her power. She was resolved to
be friendly with her, and to reinstate her at once as the favourite
pupil of former days, burying in oblivion the teacher interlude.
The girls Madeline had met walked on disappointed, saying to one
another--
“Fancy _that_ being Maddie West! How awful she looks! So seedy, and so
thin and careworn; and she is barely my age--in fact, she is a week
younger!”
“And so frightfully shabby,” put in another.
“Did you see her dress--all creases?”
“And her gloves!” (The gloves were apparently beyond description.)
“All the same, Miss Harper was making a great fuss--a great deal of
her. It was ‘dear’ this, and ‘love’ that. She is never affectionate for
nothing. I know the old boa-constrictor so well. Perhaps Maddie has
been left a fortune?” hazarded the sharpest of the party.
“Her dress and jacket looked extremely like it,” sneered number one.
“As to her hat, I saw it in at Mason’s this morning--I noticed it
particularly, marked eleven and ninepence. _That_ looks like being an
heiress! Oh, very much so, indeed!”
The price of the hat settled the question!