A DISAGREEABLE PROSPECT
"AT last I have heard of the very thing for Juliet," said Hannah, in
tones of extreme satisfaction.
Mrs. Tracy looked up quickly from her needlework, her face expressing
some anxiety. Hannah had just returned from an afternoon visit to the
high school. It was a busy time with the teachers, for the school year
was drawing to its close and the examinations were being held.
Already the beauty of the summer was past in London. The suburban
trees looked dim and dusty; the grass was baked brown; the air was
oppressively close and the sun's heat torrid. Everyone was talking or
thinking of the seaside.
"Miss Tucker invited me into her room for a little talk," continued
Hannah, in response to her mother's questioning glance. "She said she
had heard of a situation which she thought Juliet might take. It is at
Hampstead—just to teach two little girls. The elder, I believe, is only
eight. Miss Tucker thinks Juliet might do well there if she chose."
"If she chose!" The proviso was an important one. Mrs. Tracy felt its
significance.
"Miss Tucker says that she would have no hesitation in recommending
Juliet for the situation. She thinks she might teach such little ones
very nicely; but she is not fit to undertake older ones, for she is not
taking at all a high place in the examinations."
Mrs. Tracy's countenance fell.
"Oh dear!" she said, with a sigh. "I am sorry to hear that."
"It is the result of idleness rather than lack of ability," said
Hannah severely. "If Juliet were really stupid, one could forgive her.
She trifles away her time with that horrid Chalcombe girl instead of
working. I don't know whether you are aware, mother, that they are
constantly together."
"Yes," said Salome, looking up from the accounts she was carefully
auditing. "I asked Frances Hayes yesterday why she never came to see
us now, and she said she fancied that Juliet had ceased to care for
her visits since she had been so taken up with her new friend. Frances
would have nothing to say to such a girl. Her mother is too careful of
her."
Mrs. Tracy's colour rose. She looked annoyed—rather, it is to be
feared, with her elder daughters than with the culprit they denounced.
"Perhaps Mrs. Hayes has cause to be distrustful of her daughter,"
she said proudly. "I am not afraid for Juliet. She is kind to that
Chalcombe girl because she knows her to be lonely and friendless in the
school. The intimacy will naturally cease when Juliet leaves school."
"I hope it will," said Hannah. "It is on that account that I am anxious
to lose no time in getting an engagement for Juliet. This lady will
want her from ten till five every day, which will leave her little time
to herself."
"I wonder what Juliet will say to it!" said Mrs. Tracy, thinking aloud.
"It does not much natter what she says," returned Hannah decisively.
"She must be shown what is her duty. The salary will be forty pounds.
We cannot afford to throw away such a chance. It is time Juliet helped
to maintain herself. Her clothes cost a good deal."
"Not very much," said Mrs. Tracy deprecatingly, "since I make most of
her things myself. Of course I see that it is a good chance; but it
will be hard for the dear child to get into harness at once. She has
been counting on a little extra leisure, and meant to practise up her
music. I had almost promised her that she should have singing lessons."
"Surely, mother, you are not going to encourage, Juliet in her absurd
notion of becoming a public singer!" Salome exclaimed.
"By no means, dear; but the child has certainly a beautiful voice, and
it is a pity that it should not be cultivated."
"Of course, if you have money to throw away on such lessons, there is
no reason why you should not indulge her whim," said Hannah coldly.
Mrs. Tracy flushed. The words stung her, coming as they did from the
one who contributed most largely to the support of the household. But
ere she could defend herself against the insinuation they conveyed, the
door opened, and Juliet walked into the room.
Mrs. Tracy made a quick movement, which expressed to her elder
daughters her wish that no more should be said on the subject at
present. But Juliet saw the signal, and she noted, too, her mother's
flushed face and the excited air worn by all three. Little escaped the
keen observation of that young lady. She felt sure that she had been
under discussion when her entrance broke off the conversation.
"Dear me! How very warm you all look!" she remarked with the utmost
sang-froid. "What agitating topic has excited you so? You should
really, from sanitary considerations, avoid such discussions when the
thermometer stands at eighty degrees in the shade. I am not surprised
at you, mother darling; but I do wonder to find Hannah and Salome
showing so little good sense."
"I suppose you think that is clever," said Salome, who could never
endure Juliet's raillery.
"Oh, very; do not you?" said Juliet, with superb indifference in the
glance of her violet eyes.
Salome turned away discomfited. She was not quick at repartee, and she
knew that Juliet always got the better of her in a battle of words.
Juliet carried a large fan open in her hand. She now drew her mother's
form back more comfortably into her chair and began to fan her. Hannah
cast an expressive glance at Salome, and quitted the room Salome soon
followed, wishing doubtless to talk over the situation with her sister.
"Well, mother," said Juliet, when they were alone, "what are the latest
tactics of the enemy?"
"You should not speak of your sisters so, Juliet. They are not your
enemies."
"No?" Juliet lifted her eyebrows comically. "Well, then, what is
Hannah's latest plan—'for my good'?"
Her mother could not help smiling at the manner in which Juliet uttered
the last words. Mrs. Tracy sometimes feared that she was guilty of
encouraging the child in her naughtiness. But the little puss had such
pretty, fascinating ways, and the eyes looking mischievously into hers
were so full of charm.
Mrs. Tracy's face grew quickly grave again, and she sighed ere she
replied to Juliet's question.
"It is rather Miss Tucker's plan," she said, with fine tact. She
knew that Juliet, in common with most of the schoolgirls, held the
headmistress in high esteem. "She has heard of a daily engagement for
which she thinks you are suited," continued Mrs. Tracy, "and has very
kindly promised to recommend you for it."
Juliet's countenance fell. She threw down the fan she had been using
and walked to the window, where she stood looking out with a moody
expression on her young face.
"I hate it!" she said at last. "I hate the thought of teaching a lot of
little brats!"
"There are only two," said her mother.
"It's all the same," said Juliet; "I am not a bit fitted for it. But I
suppose you want me to take the situation?"
"I think, dear, it is time you began to earn money for yourself," said
her mother gently. "Your sisters have a right to expect it. They work
so hard, and Hannah contributes so much—"
"Oh, don't tell me of Hannah's exemplary conduct," broke in Juliet
impatiently, "I am sick of it. It is horrid to be so poor. If only—oh,
mother, if only my voice could be trained, think what I should earn!
How much better off we should be!"
"You would probably only be disappointed, dear. You think of the few
women who succeed; but you forget the many who fail. I hear people say
that all the professions are overstocked. It must be so with music too."
"Of course there are too many stupid, talentless performers," said
Juliet, "but you know there is always room at the top."
"Well, dear, there is no reason why you should not practise your
music, if you take this engagement," said her mother. "Hannah thinks
the salary would be forty pounds, so perhaps you might afford to give
yourself lessons. You will go and see the lady, Juliet, if she wishes
for an interview?"
"Oh yes, I will go and see her," said Juliet, a mischievous gleam
coming into her eyes. "Perhaps when she sees me she will not want to
engage me."
Two days later, Juliet was sitting with her friend, Flossie Chalcombe,
on the public green near which stood the home of the latter. Juliet had
kept the promise she had given to her mother. She had not again entered
the Chalcombes' house, in spite of many persuasions to do so. The green
had become instead the rendezvous of the friends. Here they would
linger for a talk when they had walked together from the schoolhouse,
and here Juliet would occasionally seek her friend on the fair summer
evenings.
Not infrequently it happened that Algernon Chalcombe strolled across
from the house with his dogs and lingered by Juliet's side for a talk.
Juliet felt very shy of him when first he came, but she soon grew used
to seeing him, and came to look forward to her talks with him. It was
pleasant to perceive his admiration, which betrayed itself in so subtle
a way that her pride could not take offence. From him and his sister
she received ample sympathy in her longings after an artistic life.
They fed her vanity continually by pictures of the glorious future from
which, as they described it, she seemed to be separated only by a few
steps.
Juliet and Flossie were alone on this warm summer evening, and their
talk consisted largely of lamentation, for Juliet was the bearer of
disagreeable intelligence.
"Is it not horrid, Flossie?" she said, as soon as they met. "Hannah is
going to take me to Hampstead to-morrow to see that lady."
"You don't mean it? How disgusting!" returned her friend.
"Is it not? I hate the idea of going there to be inspected; but—" and
a laughing look came into Juliet's eyes—"it shall not be my fault if
the lady engages me. I mean to do my utmost to make a bad impression on
her."
"Oh, Juliet! How lovely! What a capital idea!" said Flossie, laughing
heartily. "Algernon says it is shameful of anyone to think of making a
governess of you. He says your people don't deserve to have you. He is
just mad about it. You should hear how he goes on."
"The lady will not want me till the autumn, happily," said Juliet. "She
wishes to engage someone before she goes to the seaside. Are you going
to the sea, Flossie?"
"Yes, we are going to Margate," said Flossie. "I like Margate, don't
you? Where will you go, Juliet?"
"Oh, I don't know. Mother and I will perhaps get a fortnight at Herne
Bay together. Hannah is going to Cambridge, and Salome is to accompany
the Hayeses to a religious convention in the North. It will be nice to
get rid of them for a while; but I don't care much for anything with
this hanging over me."
As the girls talked together there came across the green, from one of
the houses opposite, a young clergyman accompanied by a little boy.
As he approached the bench on which they were seated, he paused and
exclaimed in a tone of vexation, "There! I've forgotten the packet I
promised to post. Run back for it, Archie, there's a dear boy. You'll
see it on the hall table."
"You will wait for me, Uncle Arthur?" the little fellow stipulated ere
he sped away.
"Of course I shall wait for you. See, I will sit here till you come
back." And he seated himself on the farther end of the bench.
The girls glanced at him with some curiosity and then continued
their talk, Juliet instinctively lowering her tones and Flossie
as characteristically raising hers. She was one who never lost an
opportunity of showing herself off, and cherished the delusion that her
words and bearing could not fail to please everyone.
"Really, Juliet," she exclaimed flightily, "it is very odd to think of
your becoming a governess. Everyone will be calling you Miss Tracy."
"Indeed, I hope they will not address me in that prim way," said
Juliet; "I shall hate it."
"But they will. Governesses are always addressed in that manner. 'Miss
Tracy, I hope that your pupils give you satisfaction,'" said Flossie,
mimicking the air of a grand lady.
"Do be quiet, Flossie," said Juliet, with some irritation, caused
rather by her companion's loudness than by her words. She glanced
towards the clergyman.
To her surprise, he was regarding her with an air of interest. He
seemed about to speak, then hesitated; finally, with heightened colour,
he bent towards her, lifting his hat and speaking very courteously.
"Excuse me if I seem intrusive,—I would not willingly be
impertinent,—but I could not help hearing your name. Now it happens
that a gentleman with whom I have recently travelled from Australia is
anxious to find some relatives of that name in London. Can it be that
you are one of those he is seeking?"
"I do not think so," said Juliet, much surprised; "I believe I have
no relative of the name of Tracy. There are just my mother and I. My
father, who was an officer in the army, died many years ago."
"Strange!" exclaimed the clergyman. "This gentleman spoke of having had
a brother in the army. I wonder if you would mind letting me have your
address, on the chance of its being of service to him? He is not one
whom you need fear would make any undesirable use of it."
"Oh, I do not mind in the least," said Juliet, and she hastened to tell
him where she lived.
He thanked her cordially; then, as his little nephew came running to
him, he lifted his hat and walked away.
"Well, that's a funny thing!" exclaimed Flossie. "To think of his
catching up your name like that! Can it be that he has met with any
relative of yours?"
"I do not think so," said Juliet; "I never heard of our having anyone
in Australia belonging to us. But mother will know."
"Suppose it should be a rich uncle turned up to make you his heiress,"
said Flossie. "Would not that be lovely? You would not have to be a
governess then."
"No, indeed. Oh, it would be lovely!" exclaimed Juliet, her imagination
elated by the idea. "But it is not in the least likely! Such a thing
would never happen to me."
"I don't know about that. It seems to me that you are just the one to
whom nice things should happen. I can fancy you becoming anything—a
prima donna, a duchess, a queen!" said Flossie, who set no limits to
her flattering speech.
Juliet laughed, and shook her head.
"A poor little drudge of a daily governess is what you may fancy me,
Flossie," she said. But she was not ill-pleased by the tribute paid to
her vanity. "I wonder who that gentleman is," she said, glancing back
at the clergyman's retreating form. "Do you not think he has a nice
face?"
"No, indeed. I thought him remarkably ugly," replied Flossie; "but I
admit he is rather distinguished-looking. A gentleman, no doubt."
"I like his face," said Juliet; "it looks so good and strong."
"Really, Juliet, I did not know you were so fond of good people!" said
Flossie, laughing.
"I do not admire people who think themselves good, and want to put
everyone else right," said Juliet, "but I do like people who are really
good. I wish—"
Juliet suddenly checked herself, with an instinctive sense that Flossie
would not understand her wish. How could she express the emotion with
which, in spite of her perversity and self-will, her heart would often
swell as she thought of all that is good, and true and beautiful in
human life?
Juliet did not mean her life to be just like the lives of the people
about her. She was impatient when others sought to control her. She
wanted to take her own way, but she never meant that it should be an
ignoble way. She had her ideals, though they were all too vague and
visionary. She hated selfishness and meanness, and felt a keen sense of
injustice whenever her sisters pronounced her selfish. But they could
only judge her actions by their shrewd, matter-of-fact observation;
they had not the imagination to conceive how different they might
appear seen from her point of view.