"Madam,--I beg to inform you that Mr Maplestone having rented the house
known as `Uplands,' on behalf of General Underwood, and placed urgent
orders with us for its re-decoration, we are regretfully compelled to
delay operations at Pastimes for some weeks. We are making all possible
speed with the present contract, and beg to assure you that your work
shall then be finished with all despatch.
"We have the honour to remain, etcetera."
Charmion and I looked at one another, and looked, and looked, and
looked. We were both thinking hard--thinking backward, thinking ahead.
Exactly what we thought neither of us put into words; we just sat
silently and stared, until presently Charmion rose, marched over to her
writing-table, and scribbled a few words on a telegram form. Then she
held it out for me to read:--
"Order for decorations at Pastimes cancelled herewith."
"Do you approve?"
"Er--oh, yes, of course--I suppose so. But how shall we--"
"That's easily arranged. Any town firm will be glad of the order. It
will be more expensive, but will probably be better done. In any case
we have no choice."
"It's such a tiny village. Where could the men sleep?"
"I haven't the slightest idea. That is their business, not mine. We
shan't have any difficulty about that," Charmion declared, and she was
right, for the West End firm who received our instructions waved aside
the question with smiling assurance. They were accustomed to sending
workmen all over the country. To the loneliest places. All could be
easily arranged. We were left with the impression that if it had been
our pleasure to pitch our tent in the Sahara, the frock-coated manager
would have executed our wishes with equal ease. So far, so good; but as
we left the shop Charmion turned to me, and said darkly:--
"I think, under the circumstances, it might be wise to change our minds
about employing country maids, and to engage London ones instead."
"You are afraid--"
"I am afraid of nothing, but I think it probable that the local girls
who wrote to us about situations may now be `urgently' bespoken for
service at Uplands."
"Well, he will need servants," I said feebly, and fell to thinking of
Uplands itself, and of how unfortunate it seemed that General Underwood
should be settling so near ourselves. We had noticed the house, indeed,
we could not fail to do so, as it lay a quarter of a mile along the high
road from Pastimes, on the direct route from Escott, which was Mr
Maplestone's village. It was a handsome-looking house, but painfully
prosaic, built of grey stone, unsoftened by creepers, and showing a row
of windows flat and narrow, and extraordinarily high. One could just
imagine the rooms, like so many boxes, and the hall flag-tiled, and the
house full of draughts, for the windows of the principal living-rooms
faced perversely towards the north. I hoped the poor General would
instal a heating system and a generous supply of rugs; but what chiefly
concerned me at the moment was the thought that every time--every single
time--that cross, red-headed man came over to visit his relative, he
must pass our door!
My imagination immediately conjured up half a dozen irritating
encounters. Evelyn returning home on a wet day, bedraggled, _not_ at
her best, toiling along the wet lane, and being splashed with mud by the
wheels of a giant car, from the cushioned seat of which the Squire and
his wife regarded her with lofty disdain. There _was_ a Mrs
Maplestone, and I had drawn a mental picture of her, which I felt sure
was true to life. Small, meek, rather pretty, with big brown eyes which
held a chronic expression of being rather frightened by what had just
gone before, and exceedingly anxious as to what should come next. She
would probably wear handsome furs, and a hat three seasons old.
Encounter number two represented Evelyn in her best hat and coat,
feeling rather spry and pleased with herself, until presently, clinketty
clank, round the bend of the road came the quick, staccato beat of
horses' hoofs. Mr and Mrs Maplestone cantering past in hunting kit,
which at one glimpse killed complacency and substituted disgust for the
poor fripperies of town.
Encounter number three was most obnoxious of all. It represented Evelyn
_solus_ encountering Mr Maplestone _solus_ and on foot. Approaching
him on the unsheltered road, torn by the problem, "Will he bow? Shall
_I_ bow? Will he pretend? Shall I pretend?" moving nearer and nearer,
and in a final moment of discomfort meeting the stare of blank, angry
eyes. Poor man! It must be exhausting to have such a violent temper.
I wondered what he looked like when by chance he was happy and pleased!
The West End firm got through their work in record time, and at the end
of three weeks Charmion and I took possession, and set to work at the
task of putting our house in order. Every woman delights in this work
in _prospect_; in reality, every one comes full tilt against a score of
irritating, aggravating _contretemps_ which baulk her carefully-laid
schemes.
Our _contretemps_ appeared in a very usual form. The cook and gardener,
who had been definitely engaged to meet us on our arrival, and whom we
had, therefore, not replaced in town, sent missives instead, to "hope
they didn't inconvenience, but they had changed their minds". The two
town servants who _had_ arrived were immediately plunged into woe, and,
looking into their set, dour faces, one could _hear_ the inward thought,
"Don't believe anyone ever _was_ engaged! Just one of their tricks to
get us down here to do the work alone." We left them sitting like
monuments of woe in the kitchen, and shut ourselves up in the
drawing-room to consult.
"Uplands, I conclude," said Charmion coldly.
"Oh, no! I don't believe it. He wouldn't condescend to _that_!"
"Why not? He stopped the work in the house."
"That was different! After all, he _is_ the Squire, and when it was a
case of inconveniencing him, or a stranger--a local tradesman could
hardly be expected to put us first. At least, you can _understand_ his
position."
"Does the same argument apply to local domestics?"
"It might do; but I don't believe it was used. To give a tradesman an
order for now or never, and to--to stoop to bribe a servant to break an
engagement--surely they are two different things! I do _not_ believe
Mr Maplestone would do it!"
"Well!--we shall see. In the meantime, what about dinner?"
I went back to the kitchen and talked to the Londoners, smiling
radiantly the while. I said it was upsetting, but we must expect
upsets. No one ever settled into a new house without one. I said there
would be no difficulty in getting another cook--we would telegraph for
one to-morrow; in the meantime we would just picnic, and do the best we
could. I looked from one sulky face to another, and asked
confidently:--
"Now, which of you is the better cook?"
The parlour-maid said she was a parlour-maid. She had never been
_asked_ to cook. She could make tea.