Timmy went straight home. He entered the house by one of the back ways
and crept upstairs. Late that afternoon he had gratified Nanna by sharing
her high tea, and so he was not expected in the dining-room.
He felt intensely excited--what perhaps an older person would have called
uplifted. He wandered about the corridors of the roomy old house, his
hands clasped behind his back, thinking over and exulting in his great
achievement. He felt just a little bit uneasy as to the contents of the
letter Mrs. Crofton had said she would write explaining her departure. As
to certain things, Timmy Tosswill was still very much of a child. He
wondered why their enemy, for so he regarded her, should think it
necessary to write to anyone, except perhaps to Rosamund, who, after all,
had been her "pal." He was disagreeably aware that his mother would not
have approved of the method he had used to carry out what he knew to be
her ardent wish, and he wondered uncomfortably if Mrs. Crofton would
"give him away."
At last he opened the door of what was now his godfather's bedroom, and
walked across to the wide-open window. All at once there came over him a
feeling of wondering joy. He seemed to see, as in a glass darkly, three
figures pacing slowly along the path which bounded the wide lawn below.
They were Godfrey Radmore, Betty, and with them another whom he knew was
his dear brother, George. George, whom Timmy had never seen since the
day, which to the child now seemed so very long ago, when, rather to his
surprise, his eldest brother had lifted him up in his arms to kiss him
before going out to France at the end of his last leave. And as he gazed
down, tears began to run down his queer little face.
At last he turned away from the window, and as he went towards the door
he saw the outline of a paper pad on the writing table which in old days
George and Godfrey had shared between them.
Blinking away his tears, he took up the pad, and carried it down the
lighted passage to his own room. There he sat down, and with a pencil
stump extracted from his waistcoat pocket, he wrote:
Dear Mum,
This is from Timmy. I hope you don't still feel the pierce.
Your affectionate son,
Timothy Godfrey Radmore Tosswill.
He put the bit of paper into a grubby envelope in which he had for some
time kept some used French stamps; then, licking down the flap, he left
his room and went into his mother's, where he propped up the envelope on
the fat pin-cushion lying on her dressing-table, remembering the while
that so had been propped an anonymous letter written many years before
by a vengeful nursery maid, who had been dismissed at Nanna's wish.
* * * * *
Monday morning opened badly for more than one inmate of Old Place. Dolly
and her lover had discovered with extreme surprise that one hundred
pounds would only achieve about a fifth of that which they considered
must be done before his vicarage would be fit for even the most
reasonable of brides. With Dolly this had produced an extremely
disagreeable fit of bad temper--of temper indeed so bad that it had been
noticed by Godfrey Radmore, who had followed Janet into the drawing-room
after breakfast to ask what was the matter.
Jack Tosswill had gone off as early as he felt he decently could go, to
The Trellis House, only to find its mistress gone--and gone, which
naturally much increased his disappointment and anger, only ten minutes
before his arrival! He had interviewed both servants, they only too
willing, for his infatuation was by now known to the whole village. But
what they had to say gave him no comfort--indeed, it was almost exactly
what the house-parlourmaid had said last week, when Enid had gone off to
town, leaving no address behind her. This time, however, she had said she
would telephone from town.
As he was turning away, feeling sick at heart, the cook suddenly
vouchsafed the information that her mistress had left a letter for Mrs.
Tosswill, and that The Trellis House odd man, on his way back from the
station, where he had gone with Mrs. Crofton, for she had taken two
large trunks this time, would deliver it at Old Place.
But when he reached home the letter had not yet been delivered, and Jack,
half consciously desiring to visit his misery on someone else, hunted up
Timmy in order to demand why Josephine and her kittens had not been sent
back to Epsom ere now. There had followed a lively scrap, leaving them
both in a bad mood; but at last it was arranged that Godfrey, Betty and
Timmy should motor to Epsom with the cat and her kittens after luncheon.
The morning wore itself slowly away. Only two of the younger people were
entirely happy--Betty, doing her usual work, and Godfrey Radmore. Even he
was more restless than usual, and kept wandering in and out of the
kitchen in a way which Rosamund, who was helping Betty, thought very
tiresome. As for Timmy, his mother could not make him out. He seemed
uncomfortable, and, to her practised eye, appeared to have something on
his conscience.
Three times in one hour Jack came into the drawing-room and asked his
step-mother whether she had not yet had a letter from The Trellis House.
Now Jack Tosswill had always been reserved, absurdly sensitive to any
kind of ridicule. Yet now he scarcely made an effort to conceal his
unease and suspense. Indeed, the third time he had actually exclaimed,
"Janet! Are you concealing anything from me?" And she had answered,
honestly surprised, "I don't know what you mean, Jack. I've had no
communication from Mrs. Crofton of any kind. Are you sure she wrote
me a letter?" And he had answered in a wretched tone: "Quite sure."
And then, about five minutes before luncheon, and luncheon had to be a
very punctual meal at Old Place, for it was the one thing about which its
master was particular, Timmy came in with a letter in his hand, and
sidling up to his mother, observed with rather elaborate unconcern: "A
letter for you, Mum."
She looked at him quite straight. "Has this letter only just been left,
my dear?"
He answered rather hurriedly: "It came a little while ago, but I put it
in my pocket and forgot it."
Janet broke the seal, for the letter was sealed, and then she called out
to her son, who was making for the door: "Don't go away, Timmy. Betty
will ring the lunch bell in a moment."
Unwillingly he turned round and stood watching her while she read the
four pages of closely written handwriting. But, rather to his relief,
she made no remark, and the bell rang just as she put the letter back in
its envelope. Then she slipped it in her pocket, for Janet Tosswill was
one of the very few women in England who still had a pocket in her dress.
Giving him what he felt to be a condemnatory look, but in that he was
wrong, for she was too surprised, relieved, and, yes, disturbed, to
think of him at all, she motioned the boy to go before her into the
dining-room.
As the Sunday joint was always served cold on Monday, they were all
there, even Betty, but owing, as at any rate most of them believed, to
the unfortunate discovery made by Dolly that the pre-war pound was now
only worth about seven and six, it was rather a mournful meal.
At last Rosamund went out to get the coffee, and then Janet addressed
her son: "Timmy," she observed, "I have something I wish to say to the
others, so will you please go and have your orange with Nanna?"
Timmy obeyed his mother without a word, and then, after the coffee had
come in and been poured out, Janet said slowly:
"I've had a letter from Mrs. Crofton, and as she asks me to tell you all
what is in it, I think it will be simpler if I read it out now."
She waited a moment, gathering up her courage, wondering the while
whether she was doing the best thing by Jack. On the whole she thought
_yes_. There are blows which are far better borne among one's fellows
than in solitude.
She wished to make her reading as colourless as possible, but she could
not keep a certain touch of sarcasm out of her voice as she read aloud
the first two sentences:
"Dearest Mrs. Tosswill,
"You have always been so kind to me that I feel I must write and tell
you why I am leaving the dear Trellis House and delightful Beechfield."
She looked up, but no one spoke; Jack was staring straight before him,
and she went on:
"To my _utter_ surprise a very old friend of my late husband's and mine
has asked me to be his wife. He is going back to India in a fortnight,
and so, much as I shrink from the thought of all the bustle and hurry
it will involve, I feel that as it must be now or never, it must be
_now_, and the fact that I have a good offer for The Trellis House
seemed to me a kind of sign-post.
"Though perhaps I ought not to say so, he is a splendid soldier and did
extremely well in the war. He won a bar to his M.C., which my husband
once told me would have won him a V.C. in any other war.
"He is anxious that I should not come down to Beechfield again. The
time is so short, and there is so much to be done, that I fear I shall
not see any of you before I leave for India. I would have liked
Rosamund to come to my wedding, but we shall be married very quietly,
and the day and hour will probably be fixed at the last minute.
"I am purposely not telling you where I am staying as I do not want to
give you the bother of answering this rather unconventional letter. As
for presents I have always hated them.
"All the business about The Trellis House is being done by a kind
solicitor I know, who arranged about the lease for me.
"Might I ask you to remember me very kindly to everybody, and to give
my special love to Rosamund and to sweet Miss Betty? I wish I had known
her better.
"Again thanking you for your kindness, and assuring you I shall always
look back to the happy days I spent at Beechfield,
"Believe me to remain,
Yours very sincerely,
Enid Crofton."
There was a long pause. Jack was now crumbling up his bread and then
smoothing out the crumbs with a kind of mechanical, steam-roller movement
of his right-hand forefinger.
Rosamund was the first to speak. "Why, she hasn't even told us his name!"
she exclaimed. "How very funny of her!"
And then Godfrey Radmore spoke, just a thought more sharply than usual:
"I'm not at all surprised at that. She wants to start quite clear again."
Betty said quietly: "That's natural enough, isn't it?" But her heart was
full of aching sympathy for her brother. She felt, rather than saw, his
rigid, mask-like face.
They all got up, and slowly began to disperse. After all, there was only
one among them to whom this news was of any real moment.
Janet, feeling curiously tired, went into the drawing-room. The moment
she had finished Enid Crofton's letter she had begun to torment herself
as to whether she had done right or wrong after all?
To her relief Godfrey Radmore came into the drawing-room. "I want to put
those two unfortunate people out of their misery, Janet. Shall I tell
Dolly, or will you tell her, that I want to give her a thousand pounds as
a wedding present?"
Janet had very strong ideas of what was right and wrong, or perhaps it
would be better to say of what was meet and proper.
"I don't think they could take a present of that sort from you," she said
very decidedly. "These are hard times, Godfrey, even for rich people. But
you always talk as if you were made of money!"
"Do I?"
He looked taken aback, and even hurt.
"No, no," she said, "I don't mean that, but I'm upset to-day. What with
one thing and another, I hardly know what I'm saying." She caught herself
up. "I'll tell you what I think would be reasonable. As you are so kind,
give Dolly a hundred pounds. It will make a real difference."
"No," he said, "it's going to be a thousand."
"I'm quite sure that John would not allow Dolly to accept it."
Radmore knew that when Janet invoked John, it meant that she had made up
her mind as to what must be.
He went to the door, opened it, and called out in what seemed to Janet a
very imperious tone: "Betty?" And yet no glimmer of the truth came into
Janet's mind.
"It's no good sending for Betty," she said sharply. "There are things
that can be done, and things that can't be done."
As she uttered that very obvious remark, Betty appeared.
"Yes," she said a little breathlessly. "Yes, Godfrey, what is it? We have
just started washing up--"
He took her hand and led her in front of Janet. "We have got to tell her
_now_," he said. "We must do it for Dolly's sake; I never saw anyone
looking so woe-begone as she has looked all the morning."
And then, at last, Janet began to understand.
"I don't think Mr. Tosswill will be able to object to Dolly's _brother_
giving her a thousand pounds," he said, and then, very much to Janet's
surprise, he suddenly threw his arms round her, and gave her a great hug.
* * * * *
By MRS. BELLOC LOWNDES
WHAT TIMMY DID
FROM OUT THE VASTY DEEP
THE LONELY HOUSE
GOOD OLD ANNA
LOVE AND HATRED
LILLA: A PART OF HER LIFE
THE RED CROSS BARGE