An easy matter to obtain a full list of other manufacturers in the same
line of business, and when Madame entrusted her with important
errands,--
"I'm sending you, my dear, because I know I can rely upon you!"
--Then advantage was taken of the opportunity to skip up a staircase
and, opening a door that had the word "Inquiries" painted upon it, set
upon the task of routing the defence, to obtain an interview with some
responsible individual. Usually the answer was that no vacancy
existed, but this did not prevent a brief cross-examination. Why was
she leaving Great Titchfield Street, and was it because there did not
exist a sufficient amount of work, and had Hilbert's secured any
important contracts lately, and had the firm any special work in view?
To which questions Miss Higham replied with caution and reserve, so
that frequently the responsible individual came out of his office,
walking with her down the stairs in the endeavour to obtain useful
information. As a rule, the discussion ended with a command that she
should look in again when it chanced she was passing by. At Great
Titchfield Street, when Miss Rabbit and Gertie happened to be, for the
moment, alone, the forewoman begged her in a low, confidential whisper
not to put off till to-morrow anything she could do to-day, adding that
procrastination was the thief of time.
"The fact is," said Miss Rabbit, with a burst of private candour, "I
don't care what happens so long as you are safe. Very strange, isn't
it, dear?"
It seemed to the perplexed girl, at this period, that life was made up
of incidents which could not be spoken about freely. There was no one
with whom she could share the knowledge acquired at Wallingford; that
had to be endured alone. At Praed Street she found her aunt gazing at
her curiously, sometimes beginning a sentence, and stopping, as one
fearful of trespassing on prohibited ground. When Mr. Trew called, he
and Mrs. Mills conferred in undertones, breaking off when the girl came
near, and speaking, in an unconvincing way, of an interesting murder in
South London; Trew thought the police could find the missing man if
they only went the right way about it. Great Titchfield Street, from
eight o'clock in the morning till nearly eight at night, appeared to be
enveloped in a dense fog, with Madame showing none of the distraction
of mind natural to one on the edge of a financial crisis, and Bunny
conveying friendliness by nods and furtive winks; the girls, as always,
chattered freely of their small romances, not concealing their derisive
attitude towards young men, excepting as means of escort and paymasters
where sweets and tram-tickets were involved; any slackening of
attention in these details, and dark hints were given of an intention
of giving the sack. Listening, Gertie came to the conclusion that her
own case was unique, in that she had allowed Henry Douglass to assume
the position of autocrat. One of the men who worked the netting
machine spoke to her exultantly of wisdom in managing his wife; the
method adopted was, it seemed, to contradict every blessed thing she
said.
On the top of all this comes Frederick Bulpert, encountered near
Queen's Hall one evening at five minutes to eight, trying to make up
his mind whether to spend a shilling on a promenade concert or to
disburse the money on a steak--Bulpert very glad to meet Gertie,
because he has something to say to her that he cannot speak of to any
one else; something which must be regarded (says Frederick) as strictly
_entre nous_. A spot of rain, and the stout young man says with a
reckless air, "Oh, come on in!" and Gertie agrees to accompany him,
with two provisions: first, that she shall be allowed to pay for
herself; second (because aunt has a new trick of requiring every minute
between Great Titchfield Street and Praed Street to be accounted for),
that Frederick will see her home later to the shop. Gertie thinks a
dose of music will do her as much good as anything.
"I don't claim," he admits, "to have an over and above savage breast,
but I must confess it soothes me at times."
They are in time to take up position near the fountain in the centre of
the promenade, to join in the welcome given to the leading men of the
orchestra, to swell the applause offered to the conductor, to
sing--this being the opening night--the National Anthem. Frederick
takes what he calls seconds; neighbours misunderstand it for an
expression of disloyalty. Then the programme starts. Frederick
Bulpert, new silk hat at back of head, and arms folded, listens to the
"William Tell" overture, Handel's "Largo," and the suite from "Peer
Gynt" with the frown of a man not to be taken in and unwilling to be
influenced by the approbation exhibited by people round him. A song
follows, and he remarks to Gertie that a recitation would be more in
keeping with the style of the entertainment. A violin solo with a
melody that cries softly about love, the love of two people, with
anxieties at first, at the end perfect triumph.
"We'll have a stroll out in the corridor," commands Bulpert. "That
last piece has made me feel somewhat _décolleté_."
They gain the outer circle when Gertie has persuaded him to give to her
the task of leading through the crowd; her smile obtains a free way
that his truculent methods fail to obtain.
"I'm going to give up the Post Office," he announces impressively, "and
I'm going in for the stage."
"If you can make money at it, there's no reason why you shouldn't."
Bulpert shows disappointment at the form of this agreement.
"I've come to the conclusion," he goes on, "that I'm not acting fairly
towards the world in concentrating my abilities on the serving out of
stamps and the issuing of postal orders. Besides which, I get no time
for study. Evening before last, at the Finsbury Town Hall, I came as
near to finding my memory fail as ever I've been. I'm burning the
candle at both ends."
"Hope you'll have good luck."
"I shall deserve to have it," he concedes. "I sometimes stand at the
side of the platform, and I see other parties trying in the same line,
and I have to admit to myself that I do put something into my
renditions of our poets and humorists that they fail to convey.
Furthermore--"
"I don't want to miss the Henry the Eighth dances."
"Mention of him leads up to what I want to see you about. If I go on
the stage--and to tell you the truth, I haven't completely made up my
mind as yet--I shall want a certain amount of comfort at home. A
professional man can't be bothered about domestic affairs. He has to
keep his mind on his work."
"Where does Henry the Eighth come in?"
Bulpert takes her arm. "I had an idea of asking you, Gertie, to marry
me."
A pause of nearly half a minute.
"Do you mind if I think it over before giving a definite answer?"
"I'm agreeable to that," he says, "providing you don't take too
thundering long about it."
Thus, a new perplexity was added to those that Gertie Higham already
bore upon her shoulders. There existed arguments in favour of
accepting Bulpert's offer. He belonged to her own set; he was not in a
position to comment upon her manner of speech, and there would be the
satisfaction of knowing that she was in all respects his equal; in many
his superior. Bulpert was perhaps a trifle pompous, more than a trifle
conceited, but he was steady. If she married him, it would be a
distinct score to arrange that it occurred ere Henry Douglass and Miss
Loriner became united; were Gertie to send a small white box containing
sugared cake after, the newspapers announced this fashionable wedding,
the effect of the gift would be marred.
"I want to serve him out," she argued to herself, "for the way he
treated me. It's only fair!"
Mrs. Mills was obviously delighted by the visits of Bulpert, and her
ingenuity in leaving the young people together in the shop parlour
proved that she was a mistress in the art of strategy. Bulpert excused
himself to Gertie for omitting to invite her to the play, or for other
outings, on the grounds that he was saving money; but he sometimes took
her along to Paddington Station to see the night expresses start, and
twice they went together to a large open place of entertainment in
Edgware Road where you could, by dropping a penny in the slot, inspect
a series of pictures that proved less exciting than the exhibited
title; at the same expense you heard Miss Milly Manton's latest song,
and George Limpsey's celebrated triumph in, "I wish I didn't talk so
much to Clara!" On the evening of a day when Gertie had called upon
the last firm of the list, she told Bulpert, as they met near Marble
Arch, that if he cared to ask her now to be his wife she would accept
him.
"Right you are," he said. "Then we'll consider the matter as
practically settled."
They found Mr. Trew outside the shop when they returned; seeing them,
he assumed the attitude of a figure taking snuff, and Gertie knew from
this he was in good spirits. Mrs. Mills made the announcement that
supper was waiting--a special meal because royalty had gone by that day
to take train for Windsor--and Mr. Trew suggested Bulpert should have
first cut at the food, the while he and the little missy strolled up
and down to enjoy the evening air.
"I was bound to come along and see you," he said. "When I got the news
I nearly fell off my seat. Should have done, only that I was strapped
in. You remember Miss--what-was-her-name--we met at the Zoo that
Sunday afternoon."
"Miss Loriner."
Mr. Trew stopped to make his announcement in a dramatic form.
"She's going to get spliced."
"So I guessed," remarked Gertie.
"But can you guess who to?"
"I think I can."
"Oh," he said regretfully. "Of course, if I'm not the first in the
field with the news, there's an end of it. I sh'd say they'd be a very
comfortable, 'appy, get-on-well-together couple, once they settle down."
She made a remark in a trembling voice.
"Of course you hope they will," he echoed heartily. "You and him have
always got along well together. As I said, he hasn't took much time
about it. Finished his book, he tells me."
"Mr. Trew, who are you talking about?"
"Why, your cousin Clarence, of course. I know it's correct because I
got the information straight from the stable. And he would have called
round to tell you, only he was busy. Said he wanted to see you soon,
because he'd got a message. I won't be certain; there was a lot of
traffic about, but I rather fancy it was something in the nature of a
pressing invite."