THERE ARE SUCH WOMEN IN THE WORLD
Duly carrying out his intention on the very next day, Anthony was
annoyed to find the room full, and Jenny flitting hither and thither
like the choice butterfly that defies the collector's net. More than
that, the basket-maker's wife, who was acquiring an ever-deepening
interest in the restaurant business, was being initiated into the art of
serving customers, in preparation for the expected crush of race time;
and this unattractive person it was who brought him his tea and scone.
Very sedately he sat in the chair that looked best able to bear his
weight until his tray was placed beside him, and it became evident that
he was to get no satisfaction out of Jenny beyond that of looking at
her. He looked at her for some minutes with an interest that surprised
himself, and she was conscious of the direction of his eyes, and of
every turn of his head, as if she had herself a hundred eyes to watch
him. Then he quietly took up cup and plate, and passed over to Sarah's
table. Sarah's table was a common, four-legged cedar affair, with an
aesthetic cloth on it, and bore only her money bowls and the needlework
that she was accustomed to occupy herself with at odd moments. It stood
in a retired corner, partly sheltered by the screen.
"Do you mind if I sit here with you?" he said pleasantly--with proper
respect, of course, but not with the deference she had noted in his
attitude to Jenny. "I feel so out of it, with no lady to excuse my
presence, monopolising one of those pretty little tables that were never
meant for such as me."
Now Sarah was a child in years, but she was old in novel-reading and
like exercises of the mind; and she had already cast a hungry eye upon
Mr. Anthony Churchill and her sister, scenting a possible romance before
a thought of such a thing had occurred to either of them. During their
interview on the previous afternoon she had observed them with quite a
passionate interest; and all through the night she had listened to
Jenny's restless movements in her adjoining bed, like a careful doctor
noting the symptoms of incipient fever. She had been all day watching
for his return to the tea-room, as for a potential lover of her
own--lovers, she knew, were not for her--abandoning her dreams of
European travel to build gorgeous air-castles on Jenny's behalf. "If
_this_ should be the result of keeping a restaurant--oh, if _this_
should be the reward of her goodness and courage, and all her hard
work!" she sighed to herself, in an ecstasy of exultation. "Oh, if he
should marry her, and make a great lady of her--as she deserves to
be--what would Joey say to the tea-room _then_?"
So, when Mr. Churchill presented himself, he found no difficulty in
making friends with her. She swept her work-basket from the table, to
give him room for his cup and plate, and responded to his advances with
a ready self-possession that surprised him in a girl so young; for
Sarah, under-sized and crippled, did not look her age by several years.
For herself she would have been shy and awkward, but for Jenny she was
bold enough. She had determined that, if she could help to bring about
the realisation of her new dream, her best wits should not be wanting.
He soon began to speak of Jenny.
"Your sister seems very busy," he said, with a lightness of tone that
did not deceive the listener.
"Yes; too busy. She gets very tired at night sometimes."
"I am afraid so. She has not been used to so much running about."
"No. She never expected to have so many customers. I am sorry now that
we did not open for the afternoon only; it would have been quite enough
for her."
"I suppose the afternoon is the busiest time?"
"Oh, yes. There are very few in the morning. Sometimes she is able to
sit down and sew for a few minutes."
Mr. Churchill made a mental note of that. "I should have thought she had
enough to do at the slackest time without doing sewing," he said,
watching the flitting figure furtively.
"Oh, she must be doing something; she is never idle. She makes her own
dresses always--and the most of ours."
"You don't say so!" He stared at Jenny boldly now. "Do you mean to say
she made that one that she's got on?"
"Certainly. And it looks all right, doesn't it?"
"Mrs. Earl couldn't beat her," he said absurdly; and he really thought
so, not knowing anything about it, except that Jenny's frock was simple
and neat--a style that men are always partial to. "But then Mrs. Earl
doesn't often get such a figure to fit, does she?"
"Oh, I suppose so. Plenty of them."
"I am sure she doesn't. It's so very graceful and--and high-bred, you
know. Nobody but a lady could move and turn as she does. I hope you
don't think I'm very impertinent to make these remarks."
"Oh, no," laughed Sarah, who glowed with satisfaction. "I like to hear
her praised. To me she's the best and dearest person in the world. _I_
don't think there is anybody like her."
"Well, there can't be many like her," said Anthony, seriously reflecting
upon the girl's energy and high-mindedness.
Jenny was quite aware that she was being talked of, and presently she
approached them, flushed, bright-eyed, vividly charming, as she had
never been in the days before Mr. Anthony appeared. He rose at once, and
stood while she asked him whether he had been properly attended to.
"Yes, thank you," he replied; and Sarah noticed his change of tone. "I
have been taking the liberty of making myself acquainted with your
sister."
Jenny laid a hand on Sarah's shoulder. "You are very kind," she said.
"I'm afraid she is a bit dull and lonely in this corner by herself all
day."
"The kindness has been the other way," said he, but was grateful that
she otherwise regarded it, perceiving a future advantage to himself
therein. "I fear you are tired, Miss Liddon."
"Not a bit," she said--and said truly--for his presence had filled body
and soul with life. "And if I am, it's a pleasant way of getting tired."
"You must not over-exert yourself," he urged, with a serious solicitude
that thrilled her. "What profiteth it to gain custom and lose your
health?"
"That's what I am always telling her," said Sarah.
"My health is excellent," Jenny said, smiling happily. "And we are
taking our landlady into the firm, you see, with a view to
contingencies."
"Yes, I was so glad to see that. It would take twenty of her to do what
you do, but still it's something; and she'll get more alert in time, I
hope. If necessary, you must take in still more helpers, Miss
Liddon--_anything_, rather than overstrain yourself and break down. You
must see to that"--turning to Sarah; "you must make her take care of
herself. And if she won't, report her to me, and I'll bring my father to
bear upon her. He looks on her as his special charge, I know."
As they were standing apart from the tea-drinkers, and as it were in
private life, he held out his hand in farewell, bending his tall head in
a most courteous bow. He could not sit down again, after getting up, his
own tea and scone being disposed of, and thought it wise to resist his
strong desire to linger.
Being still afraid of taking liberties, he kept away from the tea-room
for a day or two, taking his pleasures in other walks of life. Then the
spirit moved him to return thither, and he chose the morning for his
visit, when Jenny might be finding time to sit down to sew. Busy little
bee! What a contrast to the girls who courted him at Maude's tennis and
theatre parties--girls who appeared to have no motive or purpose in the
world beyond stalking husbands, and bringing them down, if possible, by
fair means or foul--women whose brains and hands seemed never to be
nobly exercised. He found himself continually drawing comparisons, to
their disadvantage.
Since it was obviously impossible that a man could want tea and scones
in the morning, he had to invent another excuse for going to see Miss
Liddon at that time of day, and the happy thought occurred to him of
taking some flowers to Sarah. He selected from Paton's beautiful window
a wisp of moss and ferns and lilies of the valley, which was the
choicest thing he could see there, hid it in his hansom as he went
through the street, and carried it with some shamefacedness to the table
of the money-changer, where the two sisters were sitting together,
awaiting customers.
"Good morning, Miss Liddon. Don't get up. I have not come for tea this
time. It just struck me that it would refresh Miss Sarah, sitting here
all day, if she had a flower to look at." And he presented his bouquet
to the crippled girl, pretending that Jenny had nothing to do with it.
"Oh!" she breathed deeply. "How good! How lovely!" And, "Oh, oh--h!"
cried Sarah simultaneously. They smelt the flowers in ecstasy, and Jenny
ran to draw a tumbler of water from her big filter.
"It's only rubbish," he mumbled disparagingly, "but it's sweet. I'm
awfully fond of the smell of lilies of the valley myself."
"So am I," said Sarah. "And I don't know how to thank you."
"Oh, it's nothing! I just thought you might like it, don't you know. It
seemed a weary thing for you to sit here for hours, with nothing but the
money-boxes to look at."
He opened and shut his watch. Jenny was standing beside him, visible
palpitating, touching the white bells with the tips of her fingers,
saying nothing. There was a sound of footsteps and rustlings on the
stairs. It was impossible to prolong the interview.
"Well, good-bye," he said suddenly, extending his hand. "I must go back
to work."
As he plunged down the dark stairs into the narrow street his heart was
beating in quite a new style, and he was distinctly aware of it. "Little
bit of a hand!" he said to himself, opening and shutting his own broad
palm, that had just swallowed it as if it had been a baby's. "Little
mite of a creature! I could crush her between my finger and thumb--and
she's got the pluck of a whole army of men like me. I used to think
there were no such women in the world nowadays; but there are--there
are, after all. Little wisp of a thing! I could take her up in my arms
and carry her on my shoulder as easily as I do the children. I wish to
Heaven I _could_ carry her--out of that beastly place, which will kill
her when the summer comes. Hullo! If I don't look out, I shall be
falling in love before I know where I am. And with a restaurant-keeper,
of all people! A pretty kettle of fish that would be!"