Lesbia Burns her Boats
There was so much to be done before the Hiltons set sail for Canada that
the brief fortnight seemed to slide away like a few days. Lesbia
attended school, but her lessons went to the winds, amply justifying
Miss Tatham's decision that the news of her impending departure would
unsettle her work. Unsettle her? How was it possible to do any work at
all when she could count the days and say "This time next week I shall
be upon the ocean"? She dreaded the voyage. On the few occasions, during
summer holidays, that she had been for a sea trip, she had proved a poor
sailor. Though Paul assured her the motion would be far less on a big
steamer than on a small yacht, she would not take his word for it.
"I shall wish myself at the bottom before we've passed Queenstown," she
declared tragically.
At school some little mystery was apparently going on. The girls would
be talking, then would stop suddenly when she approached. She wondered
about it vaguely. It was explained on her last day, when, at four
o'clock, she was asked by Theodora Johnson to come into the gymnasium.
Her own form and quite a number from the Sixth and from VB and IVA were
assembled there. To her surprise she seemed to be the centre of
attraction. Everybody looked first at her, and then at Theodora, who
began to make a speech.
"We're all very sorry you're leaving the school, Lesbia. You've been
here longer than anybody else, and it seems a pity you can't go through
the Sixth. We shall miss you very much, and we hope you'll accept this
good-bye present from us."
She handed Lesbia a beautiful leather dispatch case, with the initials
L. F. stamped upon it in gold.
Lesbia received it with amazement. She had never expected any present,
and the magnificence of this almost took her breath away.
"It's too good of you! I really don't know how to thank you all," she
stammered.
"We thought it might be useful on the journey," explained Theodora.
"It's nice when you're travelling to have a few things always handy."
"I shall value it immensely, for its own sake, and because you all gave
it to me," said Lesbia.
Then began the good-byes. The girls crowded round her, and wished her
well, and asked her to write, and not to forget her old school.
"I don't know who's to finish the stencilling in VA," said Kathleen
Wilcox.
"I wish you could have heard the song-drama before you went," mourned
Aldora Dodson.
"It's the biggest shame in the world that you're going, I shall always
say they oughtn't to have taken you," declared Marion, throwing her arm
around Lesbia's shoulder as they left the gymnasium.
The last evening in the old home was a forlorn experience even to Paul
and Minnie, who had bright hopes for the future. Lesbia lay awake for
hours crying, and woke with a nervous headache. She had packed a few
clothes, brush and comb, and some other necessaries, in her new dispatch
case, for they were to spend the night at a hotel in Liverpool, and go
on board the _Roumania_ on the following morning. Nurse had stayed till
the last, to help with the preparations. She wept as she put her little
charges into the taxi.
"God bless you! I almost wish I was going with you," she murmured,
mopping her eyes.
The whole family looked solemn as they drove through the city, but the
bustle of the railway station restored their spirits. Lesbia had to
cling on to Bunty with one hand, and to hold her dispatch case with the
other. When they were settled in a compartment and the train had
started, she felt that her last link with Kingfield was severed. What
would happen in her unknown future she could not tell.
It was a long journey to Liverpool, and the children were sleepy and
cross before they at last reached the busy station and drove through
the lighted streets to their hotel. The manageress had made a mistake in
booking their order, and had only two small rooms left for them, so
Lesbia was obliged to take both Julie and Bunty into her bed. It was a
tight fit, and they were restless little people. Poor Lesbia, who had
hardly closed her eyes the night before, found it impossible to sleep.
If she managed to doze off Bunty would kick or Julie would fling out her
arms. The dark hours passed like a nightmare. She welcomed the
chambermaid's entrance with the hot water. Feeling utterly unrested, and
nervy and disconsolate, she got up and dressed the children, who were in
high spirits. Their noise made her head throb. Was every day of the
journey going to be like this? There was a slight fog and drizzling rain
outside. Not at all the sort of weather to inspire courage and
hopefulness.
Lesbia made some pretence of eating breakfast in the Coffee Room, but
she felt as if food would choke her. Minnie, with an anxious eye on the
clock, though there was plenty of time to spare, pushed away her own
breakfast almost untasted.
Emigration has its sad side. Even with husband and children it is a
wrench to leave old England.
Then the hall porter announced their taxi, and once more they drove
through Liverpool streets and along miles of docks to the particular
dock where lay the _Roumania_. They were on board at last, with bag and
baggage and the children all intact. Their big boxes were being lowered
into the hold, and their cabin trunks were being marked with chalk by an
official. A steward took them to their cabins, Nos. 51 and 59. Lesbia's
experience in voyaging was confined to a 10-ton yacht. She had never
been on a sea-going vessel before. She gazed round in dismay. Why, this
tiny room with its four berths was actually smaller than the bathroom at
home! There was scarcely space to turn round in it. It would be cramped
enough if she had it all to herself, but she was to share it with the
three children. How she would ever undress and dress them, wash them and
comb their hair, much less manage her own toilet in such tiny quarters,
she could not imagine. The porthole was closed, and the air felt stuffy.
There is always an indescribably close oily smell about the atmosphere
of any cabins, except deck staterooms, and those are generally booked by
millionaires. Stewards were carrying in various bags and packages and
tossing them down on the berths. Already the little place was so full
she did not see where she, Julie, Steve, and Bunty were going to put
themselves. An immense wave of repulsion swept over her. She could
not--no she _could_ not be boxed up with those children all the way
across the Atlantic! It was too bad of Paul and Minnie to have brought
her. They ought to have left her behind in England. The prospect before
her was intolerable. She would give the whole world to get out of it,
and return to Kingfield. _To return to Kingfield!_ The idea struck her
with a sudden swift temptation. The Morwoods and the Pattersons had both
said they would have been glad to have her. Suppose she were to make her
escape and go back? There was still time. Friends of the passengers were
on the vessel. She could slip away amongst them unobserved. She had two
pound notes in her purse (Paul had seen to it that she was not
penniless), and that would be sufficient to pay her railway fare from
Liverpool to Kingfield. Lesbia was nothing if not impulsive. It seemed a
case of "now or never". All the Celtic side in her rushed to the fore.
She never stopped to reason, but acted on the emotion of the moment.
"I'll do it!" she whispered to herself.
Taking her writing-block and a pencil from her dispatch case, she
hastily scribbled a note.
"DEAR PAUL AND MINNIE,
"I feel I can't possibly go to Canada after all, so I am going
back to Kingfield to the Morwoods and my own relations who never
wanted me to go away. I hope you will have a nice voyage and be
happy at Belleville.
"With much love,
"LESBIA."
She put this into an envelope, addressed it to Paul, and stuffed it
inside Bunty's little pocket, where she thought it would be sure to be
found later on. Then she kissed the children, took up her dispatch case,
and fled on deck. The bell was ringing for friends to clear away from
the ship. She stepped ashore with the first consignment. A tram-car was
passing along the docks and she boarded it. By good luck it took her
straight to the station. She booked for Kingfield and inquired the time
of the next train.
"Number 5 platform. You'll just catch it if you're quick!" replied the
porter.
Lesbia had only a hazy remembrance afterwards of how she tore up the
steps and over the iron bridge to platform 5, but she somehow found
herself jumping into a third-class carriage just as the porter was
banging the doors and the guard was waving his green flag. She sank on
to a seat exhausted, and trembling in every limb. The train started, and
Liverpool and Canada lay behind her. Had she wished it was too late now
to repent. She had indeed "burnt her boats".
To say that the Morwoods were surprised when Lesbia walked into their
house that evening hardly describes their petrified astonishment. They
stared at her as if they had seen a ghost. Lesbia, who had felt secure
of a warm welcome, explained the situation.
"You've run away! Run away from your brother and sister and come to
_us_!" gasped Mrs. Morwood. "But, my dear girl, _we_ can't keep you! You
must be mad to do such a thing. Have they actually sailed for Canada
without you?"
"I didn't want to go!" answered Lesbia, choking with a lump that
suddenly rose in her throat.
She had thought they would be so glad to see her, instead of which they
were looking absolutely aghast at her appearance. It was the first great
disillusionment of her life. In her bitter disappointment she sank on to
a chair and burst into a storm of hysterical sobs. She was overstrung
and tired out, and the coolness of her reception seemed like a plunge
into an icy bath.
At the sight of such a tragic little lump of misery all Mrs. Morwood's
natural kindness of heart reasserted itself. She and Marion comforted
Lesbia as best they could.
"Drink this hot tea, child, and you'll feel better. It's no use crying
your eyes out. You have some other relations in Kingfield? I thought so.
Well, we'll keep you here for to-night, but to-morrow morning I shall
send you to Mrs. Patterson. She's the proper person to take charge of
you. I suppose she'll telegraph to your brother, and ask what's to be
done. It's a most unfortunate business altogether. Cheer up! I suppose
your relations will settle things somehow for you."
Lesbia went to bed early in the Morwoods' pretty spare bedroom, hastily
got ready for her reception. She had hardly slept during the two
previous nights so she was utterly weary, too tired almost to think. Her
uppermost feeling as her head nestled on the frilled linen pillow-case
was one of intense thankfulness that she was not in cabin 59 on the
_Roumania_. Her bed was steady and the room airy. The wind was blowing a
gale outside, and she pictured the steamer tossing on the waves, with
portholes carefully closed. She wondered how the children were getting
on--the children whom she had so suddenly deserted.
"I suppose Minnie'll go and sleep with them," she thought, stifling a
voice within her that was beginning to ask certain uncomfortable
questions. "I expect Bunty would give my letter to Paul as soon as they
missed me. If not they'd find it in her pocket at bedtime. I wonder what
they said? No, I don't! I just want to forget all about it and go to
sleep."
Next morning, immediately after breakfast, Mrs. Morwood dispatched her
unexpected guest to Mrs Patterson, who, she considered, ought to take
charge of her. The Pattersons lived at Morton Common, a suburb on the
opposite side of the city, and Lesbia went there in the tram-car. She
had plenty of time for reflection upon the journey. After her experience
with the Morwoods she was rather doubtful about her reception. Mrs.
Morwood had plainly shown her strong disapproval, and Marion, though
she was quite kind, had been frankly embarrassed. Lesbia was beginning
to learn there was such a thing as "counting without one's host". She
walked very solemnly into the gate of 28 Park Road, and gave a timid
ring at the door bell.
Mrs. Patterson's amazement and condemnation were even more sweeping than
Mrs. Morwood's. Being a relation she could speak her mind freely.
"How _could_ you do such an absolutely idiotic thing, Lesbia? You've
forfeited your passage. Dear me! I hardly know what's to be done. Paul
and Minnie will be in such a state of mind about it!"
"I didn't want to go to Canada," sobbed Lesbia, whose tears were
painfully near the surface this morning; "you said it was a pity for me
to go, and you could have taken me in easily, so I came back."
Mrs. Patterson looked distinctly uncomfortable.
"I could have taken you if I had arranged it with Paul Hilton," she
replied. "But I never expected you to run away in this mad fashion.
Well, I suppose we must send a telegram and see what can be done. You've
no clothes except the few things in that case? Of course, they would all
be in your cabin trunk. The girls must lend you what they can."
When Mr. Patterson arrived home at lunch time he discussed the matter
with his wife, and dispatched a wireless message to the _Roumania_,
telling Mr. Hilton of his stepsister's whereabouts. He received the
reply: "Keep Lesbia. Writing." So there was nothing more to be done
until a letter could arrive.
Lesbia, as the guest of the Pattersons, began to learn a few facts about
life. Up till now she had been singularly childish in regard to money
matters, and had never troubled to think of the sources of food and
raiment. Paul and Minnie had provided everything, and she had accepted
her part and lot with them without question. It came as a surprise when
it was explained to her that she was utterly dependent upon her
stepbrother.
"Your own father and mother left you absolutely nothing, Lesbia," said
Mrs. Patterson. "Paul adopted you, and has brought you up all these
years and paid for your education, as if you had been his own sister.
I'm afraid he'll be terribly annoyed at your running away from the
steamer. It will be such an expense to send you on afterwards if he
decides you are to join them."
It was twelve days before a letter arrived with the Canadian postmark,
twelve days in which Lesbia, feeling herself a self-invited guest, had
ample time to consider the consequences of her rash act. She hardly knew
whether she wished Paul to leave her in England or to send for her to
Canada. Staying with the Pattersons was not at all exhilarating. The
atmosphere of the house was full of disapproval. She looked eagerly at
the envelope addressed in Paul's familiar handwriting. It was directed
to Mrs. Patterson, who put on her pince-nez and opened it. As she read
it a look of consternation swept over her face.
"Well, I wasn't quite prepared for that at any rate," she commented,
"and yet it's only what might have been expected. The girl's no kith and
kin of his after all." She handed the letter to her husband, whose face
also lengthened as he grasped its contents.
"It's an unfortunate business," he said briefly. "Of course I see his
point. We shall have to write to Mrs. Newton."
Poor Lesbia, sitting listening, did not dare to ask for an explanation,
but later on Mrs. Patterson told her the bad news.
"Paul is deeply hurt at your leaving the steamer. He says, 'I have been
both father and brother to Lesbia for the last eight years, and consider
it unpardonable of her to desert my wife in such a pinch. As she
evidently does not wish to make her home with us, I feel my
responsibility for her may justly come to an end, and I may hand her
over to her own relations. Had she come with us to Canada I would have
treated her as one of my own children, but in the circumstances she has
really no further claim upon me. I think I have done my share, and it is
now the turn of others to provide for her.'"
"Has he cast me off altogether?" gasped Lesbia.
"I'm afraid so. You've really nobody but yourself to blame. We must
write round to your various relations and see who's ready to help you.
If only you had been a couple of years older! You're hardly sixteen and
so childish for your age. There, don't cry, Lesbia!" (more kindly). "We
shall manage something for you amongst us. Your relations certainly
won't turn you adrift. But, of course, it's difficult to arrange when we
have children of our own to educate. I expect your fees were paid at
school until Christmas, so you may just as well go back there until the
end of the term. I'll call on Miss Tatham and talk the matter over with
her. You were getting on so nicely at the High School, it seems a pity
for you to leave, doesn't it?"
"Yes; I should like to go back there," answered Lesbia forlornly.