IMPRISONED IN A PARLOUR
On finding herself imprisoned in the little parlour Miss Block began to
scream. The noise she had been making before was nothing compared to
what she made now. One would never have supposed that the wearer of
such a magnificent pink hat could scream as loud as she did. Madge
looked anxiously at the faces of the passers-by in the street, but
apparently the sounds were considerably softened by coming through two
closed doors, at all events nobody took any notice of the turmoil. If
only no more customers came to the shop all might be well; but Madge
could not help feeling that she was running a great risk of getting
mixed up in a really serious affair. Without knowing much about the
law, she understood very well that it was exceedingly unusual conduct,
to say the least of it, first to knock a strange lady down, and then
shut her into somebody else's back parlour. Of course, Madge had
rolled over at the same time as her prisoner, and indeed hurt her own
elbow rather severely against the wooden framework of the sofa, so that
the two girls had really fared very equally. In spite of this Madge
felt convinced that Miss Block would describe herself in the future as
having been violently assaulted. It might even turn out that, quite
unintentionally, Madge had broken the law, and now deserved to be
seized by the policeman with whom Miss Block had threatened her a few
minutes previously. Then, the very idea of being a fit object for the
attention of a policeman seemed absurd; but now Madge could not feel
quite as consciously innocent as she would have wished.
Until to-day it had never occurred to Madge that she could possibly
break the law except by trespassing on her neighbours' property. The
children were all terribly afraid of being caught doing that, because
old Barton had often told them warning stories of boys who had been
sent to prison for this offence. But now it seemed that it was much
easier to get into the clutches of the law than they had imagined.
Miss Block between her shrieks might be heard loudly requesting the
presence of a policeman, and it could hardly be expected that she would
go on much longer without attracting any attention.
On the whole, Madge's best chance of safety seemed to be in trying to
make friends with her late adversary. She stood close to the parlour
door, and seizing an opportunity when Miss Block's shrieks became a
little fainter (probably owing to loss of breath), she put her mouth
close to the key-hole and shouted:
"I am very sorry I was rough. Please listen, I have something to say."
Miss Block did not answer, but she did what was still better, she
stopped screaming for a minute.
"It was like this," continued Madge, still shouting through the
key-hole. "I dropped all our money, five shillings and sevenpence, you
know, down the grating in the pavement outside. And when I came and
told Mrs. Winter, she promised to fetch the man who kept the key of the
house if I would stay--"
"I don't believe a word of it!" suddenly shrieked Miss Block from
behind the door. "I expect you rushed in and knocked the poor old
woman down like you did me! I shouldn't be a bit surprised to hear
that she was lying unconscious behind the counter at this very moment!"
Madge was dreadfully disappointed by this fresh outbreak. She had
hoped, judging by Miss Block's momentary calm, that she was becoming
more reasonable, and that the door might soon be unlocked without there
being any danger of a policeman being summoned. But this last absurd
accusation of injuring Mrs. Winter was the worst of all. It would
clearly be extreme folly to release Miss Block while she was capable of
such malicious misrepresentations.
"I can't let you out unless you promise solemnly on your word and
honour not to tell anybody silly stories about my stealing, or hurting
Mrs. Winter. As if I would do such a thing!" shouted Madge through the
key-hole.
"Help! Fire! Murder! Thieves!" shrieked Miss Block in reply.
"If you go on making that noise I won't unlock the door at all until
Mrs. Winter comes back," threatened Madge, rendered desperate by terror.
"You won't let me out, won't you? Then I'll smash everything in this
room with the poker!" screamed Miss Block in a voice choking with rage.
There was an ominous pause followed by a loud crash.
"Oh, please don't break Mrs. Winter's things! Please don't!" implored
Madge. "It isn't her fault, you know, or mine either for the matter of
that! The whole thing is a mistake, just because you won't listen to
the true--"
"I am going to wait exactly one minute," interrupted Miss Block, "and
at the end of that time if the door isn't opened I shall knock the
clock off the chimney-piece, and the glass shade that is over it too!"
Poor Madge was almost wild with terror at this horrid threat. She
broke out into incoherent cries and entreaties for mercy, to which
there was no reply. Then she dashed to the street door in the hope of
seeing Mrs. Winter, but only an unceasing flow of strangers passed
along the pavement outside.
"The minute is over!" screamed Miss Block. "Let me out at once or--"
Madge was dreadfully afraid of a policeman, and felt that, very
shortly, the worst terror of her life would come to pass and she would
be dragged off to prison. Still, she could not let kind old Mrs.
Winter's best clock be broken on her account. She unlocked the parlour
door and flung it wide open.
Out bounded Miss Block, her face scarlet with rage, the pink hat cocked
unbecomingly over one ear. "You miserable, impertinent, thieving
little wretch!" she stammered, literally sobbing with fury. "I'll soon
teach--"
"My dear child! What has happened, and what are you doing?"
interrupted a calm voice.
Unnoticed by the two angry girls the street door had opened, and there
stood Miss Thompson. When things came to be explained afterwards there
was nothing very strange about her arriving at that moment, but to
Madge her appearance seemed so opportune as to be little short of
miraculous. In point of fact Miss Thompson had left the linen-draper's
shortly before, and on looking up and down the street for her pupil had
seen her face peeping out of Mrs. Winter's door. Madge at the time had
been so occupied in watching for Mrs. Winter that she had no thoughts
to spare for anyone else, and never noticed Miss Thompson until she
heard her voice.
Miss Block was not at the best of times a well-bred girl, and now, her
face distorted with passion she seemed ready, positively, to fly at
Madge. Anything like opposition or argument would have produced a
regular torrent of rude words and foolish accusations. But Miss
Thompson did not give her any chance of being insulting; she was so
calm herself, and so full of dignified apologies for Madge's behaviour,
that before long the angry girl left off sobbing hysterically and began
to listen to reason.
When Miss Block had heard the whole story she felt distinctly
uncomfortable. Captain West was exceedingly well known in the
neighbourhood, and the last thing Miss Block would have wished to do
was to call his daughter a thief; but how could she guess that a
plainly-dressed little girl in a small shop belonged to anyone of
importance? Miss Block was sufficiently vulgar to have different
manners for different classes of society. It confused her very much to
find that she had treated Captain West's daughter as if she were Mrs.
Winter's grandchild, or even someone poorer.
"Well, I'm very sorry for all that's happened," she said awkwardly.
"It's been a mistake, and I hope Captain West won't think any more
about it." Miss Thompson politely assured her that Captain West would
attach no importance to the unpleasant interview that had taken place
between his daughter and Miss Block, in fact that he would probably
never hear of it.
"That's a good thing!" cried Miss Block, evidently much relieved by
this assurance. "Then I think I'll be going. And," she added, pausing
for a moment in the doorway, "there's not much fear of my coming here
again! I might have guessed something would happen in a low little
place like this! None of these vulgar poky shops for me in future!"
Miss Thompson was about to speak rather sharply in defence of Mrs.
Winter, when Miss Block cut her short by flouncing noisily out of the
shop.
There was a short silence, and then Miss Thompson said: "I need not
point out to you, Madge, the extreme vulgarity of that last remark?"
"About the poky little shop, do you mean?" asked Madge shyly.
"Yes, indeed. I doubt whether anybody has ever before behaved half so
rudely in this little house as the smartly-dressed girl who has just
gone out of it. I am glad to see, however, that she has not really
broken anything in the parlour, only knocked over a small table to try
and frighten you with the noise. But we won't talk of her any more."
And Miss Thompson shrugged her shoulders impatiently.
Fortunately, at this point Mrs. Winter returned, bringing with her the
key of the empty house that she had actually persuaded the caretaker to
lend her.
"I have promised faithfully to return it to him this evening, miss,"
said the kind old woman. "He made some little difficulties at first
about letting it go out of his own hands, but being in the shoe-making
business he couldn't come himself till after work hours, and I told him
the young lady was in a sad way to be getting home again before
tea-time--"
"I don't think the young lady is half as anxious to get home in good
time as I am!" laughed Miss Thompson. Then she thanked Mrs. Winter
heartily for the trouble she had taken to get back the children's
money. "And now that we have the key," she concluded, "it will soon be
recovered. I will stay in the shop, and if any customers come I will
ask them to wait a few minutes until Mrs. Winter returns."
Madge was quite satisfied with this arrangement; she had had enough of
keeping shop for one afternoon. Besides, she was very anxious to see
the inside of the empty house.