"Berengaria, what do you generally do with your old court trains? How
do you use them up?"
The fire had died down to a dull red glow; only one tiny flame remained,
which, flickering to and fro, showed a wide expanse of floor, and two
easy-chairs drawn up before the fender, on which reclined vague,
feminine figures. The voice which had asked the question was slow and
languid, and breathed a wearied indifference to the world in general,
which was more than equalled in the tone of the reply--
"Really, don't you know, I can't say! I put them away, meaning to use
them for cloaks or evening-dresses; but I forget, or they get mislaid,
or the maid confiscates them for her own purposes. I expect, as a
matter of fact, she makes them up into Sunday blouses."
"You spoil that woman, dear! You are so absurdly easy-going that she
robs you right and left. Do take my advice, and give her notice at
once!"
"I couldn't, darling, even to please you! It bores me so to deal with
strangers, and no one else could do my hair like Elsie. If it pleases
her to use up a few of my garments, why shouldn't the poor soul have her
pleasure like the rest? That reminds me, Lucille--are you going to the
duchess's ball to-night? I suppose it is superfluous to ask, since no
entertainment is complete without you nowadays."
"Oh, I suppose so! If I am not too fagged, that is to say. But I have
a dinner first, and two At-homes, and people make such a fuss if you
don't put in an appearance. One hardly feels up to dancing after
struggling through two of the asphyxiating mobs dignified by the name of
entertainments; still, I promised Arthur the cotillion, and he will be
desolated if I play him false; and I have a new frock for the occasion
which is really rather a dream. Silver tissue over satin, and shoulder-
straps of diamonds. I had them reset on purpose. I spend quite a
fortune on resetting jewels nowadays; but one must be original, or die!"
"My dear, you will be too bewitching! Lord Arthur will be more
desperate than ever. My poor little self will be nowhere beside you!
I'm going to be sweet and simple in chiffon and pearls. Paquin made the
gown. Don't ask what it cost! I tore up the bill and threw it in the
fire. Really, don't you know, it made me quite depressed! So
perishable, too! I expect I shall be in rags before the evening is
over. But it's quite sweet at present--all frilly-willys from top to
toe. I do love to be fluffy and feminine, and my pearls really are
unique! The princess examined them quite carefully when I met her last
winter, and said she had rarely seen finer specimens. I wouldn't wear
them at all unless they were good. I cannot endure inferior jewels!"
The speaker lolled still more luxuriously in her chair, then started
forward, as the door opened with a bang, and a harsh voice accosted her
by name--
"Miss Mollie, your mother wants to know if you have finished darning the
socks? She is putting away the clean clothes, and wants to sort them
with the rest."
The Lady Lucille--otherwise Mollie Farrell, the penniless daughter of an
impoverished house--jumped up from her chair, and clasped her hands in
dismay. In blissful contemplation of imagining chiffons and cotillions,
the prosaic duties of reality had slipped from her mind, and
recollection brought with it a pang of remorse.
"Misery me! I forgot the very existence of the wretched things! Never
mind. Tell mother, Annie, that I'll set to work this minute, and put
them away myself as soon as they are done. Tell her I'm sorry; tell her
I'll be as quick as I possibly can!"
Annie stood for a moment in eloquent silence then shut the door and
descended the stairs; while Mollie groped her way across the room, and
Berengaria lifted herself from her chair with a sigh, and slipped her
hand along the mantelpiece.
"I'll light the gas. How horrid it is, being dragged back to earth by
these sordid interruptions! It's always the way--as soon as I begin to
forget myself, and enjoy a taste of luxury, back I'm dragged to the same
dull old life. I really saw that silver tissue, and felt the coldness
of the diamonds against my shoulder; and then--_socks_! Those wretched,
thick, ugly socks, with the heels all out, and the toes in rags! I
think schoolboys ought to be obliged to darn their own clothes, just to
teach them a little care!"
"Well, be aisy; you haven't to darn them, anyway. It's my work, which
is the best of reasons why it is left undone. Hurry with the gas,
there's a dear. There's no time for conundrums, if I am to finish to-
night!"
Another sigh, the striking of a match, and the light sprang up, and
showed a tall, girlish figure, clad in a blue serge skirt, and a flannel
blouse, faded from repeated washing, and showing signs of a decided
shortage of material.
Considered as a costume, it was a painful contrast to the silver and
diamonds of the fair Berengaria; but the shabby garments looked their
best on Ruth Farrell's slight form, and the face reflected in the strip
of mirror above the mantelpiece had a distinct charm of its own. A low
brow below masses of brown hair; a flush of carmine on the cheeks; soft
lips, drooping pathetically at the corners; and--most striking feature
of all--thickly marked eyebrows of almost jetty black, stretching in
long, straight lines above the grey eyes. A pretty, almost a beautiful
face, full of character, full of thought, full of a restless,
unsatisfied yearning.
She threw the burnt-out match on to the fire, and turned to survey the
room--surely the most motley and curious apartment that could be
imagined! The sloping roof proved at a glance the position under the
leads, and a peep at the outside of the door would have shown the word
"Attica" painted in bold white letters on the top panel.
Attica--or the land of attic--constituted the boudoirs of the Ladies
Berengaria and Lucille, the work-rooms and play-rooms, dens and havens
of refuge, of Ruth and Mollie Farrell, and their young stepsisters, Trix
and Betty Connor; for it was of generous proportions, measuring a square
eight yards or more, and the floor was divided into four equal sections
by lines of white paint against the brown of the original staining.
Each sister held an exclusive right to her own domain, and for another
to enter therein without special invitation was held as an outrage
against decency and good taste.
In the beginning of things, Ruth, as the eldest, had claimed the right
of first choice, and, being a young woman who liked her comforts, had
instantly and unhesitatingly appropriated the fireside.
Mollie, coming next in order, plumped for the window, it being her sunny
habit to look forward to an endless summer; Trix, grumbling vigorously,
appropriated the angle made by the blank walls nearest the fire; and
poor Betty made her lair in the direct draught of the doorway, and
enjoyed a permanent cold in the head from November to March.
A glance at the four corners of the room afforded a very fair idea of
the characters of its inhabitants. Ruth's "Fireland" domain had an air
of luxury of its own, though the draperies were of simple turkey-red,
and the pictures mounted on home-made frames of brown paper. There was
a row of shelves against the wall, holding quite a goodly show of
volumes, ranged neatly side by side, while a curtained recess at one end
contained tea-cups and canister, and a small metal kettle, as
scrupulously bright as on the day when it had left the shop.
An old folding-chair had been painted green, and supplied with frilled
cushions. There was a sensible little table, holding a hand-machine,
and a work-basket--yawning apart, it is true, but neatly strapped to
prevent accident; and on the mantelpiece a crowd of photographs, and a
few oddments of blue china, all carefully dusted by the owner's hand,
and set out with artistic effect.
Last, and crowning luxury of all, a screen stood behind the low chair,
manufactured out of a clothes-horse flounced with turkey-red, which was
at once the comfort and distraction of Ruth's soul; for while, from her
point of view, it was an indispensable comfort, shutting out draughts
from window and door, and giving to her little nook the last blessing of
privacy, Trix denounced the innovation as the incarnation of
selfishness, Betty's teeth chattered with a noise like castanets, and
Mollie peered round the corner with her shoulders huddled in a shawl,
and her face at once so cheerful, so unreproving, and so bleached with
cold, that it was not in human nature to refuse the desired invitation.
Mollie's domain of "Bellevue" comprised the square-shaped window, on the
sill of which she cultivated nasturtiums and mignonette in summer, and
in the embrasure stood a window-seat covered with blue cloth, that was
really the remains of an old winter skirt.
Visitors to "Bellevue" always paused to admire the sprays of flowers
which were embroidered here and there on this blue background; and then
Mollie "dissembled," as she called it, smiling sweet recognition of the
praise, but never once breathing the secret that the whole being and
intent of these flowers was to hide the joins beneath.
She also possessed a table and a work-basket; but the former was
decidedly ancient and insecure as to legs, while the basket made no
pretence of shutting, but looked on unabashed while its contents lay
scattered over the rug.
A dressmaker's stand stood in the corner, on which a blouse, more or
less complete, was invariably pinned, waiting for the moment when Mollie
had time to devote to her favourite occupation. There were no book-
shelves, but a litter of magazines behind a cushion on the window-seat,
and innumerable photographs were secured to the wall by black-headed
pins, to fade slowly but surely into unrecognition in the unbroken glare
of light.
Mollie herself pined for curtains to mitigate the draught during the
winter months, but the three other inmates of Attica loudly declared
that they could not spare a fraction of light, so she gave way smiling,
as her custom was. Mollie never grumbled; it was so dull, as she said,
and she loved to be gay. An invincible cheeriness of heart carried her
gallantly over the quicksands in which Ruth was submerged by reason of
her moodiness, and Trix by her quick temper, and made it a physical
impossibility to repine over the inevitable.
Fifteen-year-old Trix was in that stage when the Oxford examination
seems the end-all and be-all of existence. Her section of Attica was
proudly dubbed "The Study," and had its walls covered with maps, class
lists, and "memos" of great variety. The desk was strewn with papers
and exercise-books, and there lingered in the air that indescribable
scent of sponge, slate, indiarubber, and freshly sharpened pencils which
seem inseparable from youthful study.
Trix confessed to one weakness,--only one!--an overwhelming greed for
pencil-boxes and sharpeners, and the contents of the wooden shelf above
the desk testified to her indulgence in this craving. "The girls gave
them to me!" she used to say when strangers exclaimed at the number of
the piled-up boxes, but she blushed even as she spoke, knowing well that
to keep sixpence in her pocket and pass a pencil-box of a new design,
was a feat of self-denial beyond imagination.
Dear, chubby, placid Betty was only thirteen, and cared for nothing in
the world but her relations, chocolate-creams, and scrambling through
the day's classes with as little exertion as possible. She shivered in
her corner, poor mite, sucking audibly, to the distraction of her
elders, the while she skimmed over her lessons, and looked forward to
the time when she would be free to devote herself to the hobby of the
hour.
Sometimes it was postcards; sometimes it was stamps; sometimes it was
penny toys collected from street vendors. It had once soared as high as
autographs, and a promising beginning of three signatures were already
pasted into the remaining leaves of an exercise-book. Whatever the
collection might be, it lived in heaps on the uncarpeted floor; and when
Betty had a tidy fit, was covered with a crochet antimacassar which had
known better days, and had grown decidedly mellow in tint.
On this particular afternoon, the two younger sisters were taking tea
with school friends, while their elders enjoyed an uninterrupted _tete-
a-tete_, when they could indulge in a favourite game. When life was
unusually flat and prosaic, when the weather was wet, invitations
conspicuous by their absence, and the want of pocket-money particularly
poignant, Mollie would cry ardently: "Let's be Berengaria and Lucille!"
and, presto! the two girls were transplanted to another world--a world
with the magic letter W added to its address, where empty purses and
dyed dresses existed not, and all was joy, jewellery, and junketing.
Lucille had lately become the bride of a millionaire and adoring duke;
the peerless Berengaria wrought havoc with the peace of Lord Arthur, and
had more suitors than she could count on the fingers of both hands. It
was a fascinating make-believe; but, as Ruth plaintively remarked, it
did come with somewhat of a shock to be dragged back to earth by--socks!
She stood leaning against the mantelpiece, looking on with frowning
brows while her sister collected together scattered materials, and
carried them and the yawning basket back to the cosy corner in Fireland,
where, for the hour, she was an invited guest.
"Quick's the word and sharp's the action!" cried Mollie cheerily. "Now
for a grand old cobble; and if there are any heels out to-day, my fine
young gentlemen, don't blame _me_ if you have to tread on knots for the
rest of the week! It's the strangest thing on earth that I can remember
nice things year after year without an effort, and yet forget this
horrid mending every Saturday as regularly as the day comes round."
"Carelessness!" replied Ruth shortly, and with the candour of near
relations. "I couldn't forget if I tried. First thing when I wake in
the morning I think of all the bothersome duties I have to do in the
day, and the last thing at night I am thinking of them still. But you
are so frivolous, Mollie!"
"And you are so morbid, my dear! You don't offer to help me, I observe;
and since you are so conscientious as all that, I should think you might
lend me a hand in my extremity. There! I'll give you Ransome's for a
treat; he breaks out at the toes, but his heels are intact. It's
playwork mending for him compared with the other boys."
She tossed a collection of brown woollen stockings into her sister's
lap, and Ruth took them up, frowning heavily with her black brows, but
never dreaming of refusing the request, though her own share of the
household mending had kept her employed during the earlier part of the
afternoon, while Mollie was amusing herself elsewhere. She took a
darning-egg out of her basket, threaded a needle daintily, and set to
work in the painstaking manner which characterised all her efforts; but
she sighed as she worked, and Mollie sang, and that was the difference
between them.
"Don't make such a noise, Mollie; you make my head ache. Another time,
I wish you would do your mending when I do mine, and then we should get
a chance of a rest. Just to-day, too, when the girls are out! I hate a
large family, where there is never any privacy or repose. I wish the
pater could afford to send the boys to a boarding-school. It would be
the making of them, and such a blessing to us."
Mollie pursed her lips disapprovingly.
"I'd miss them horribly. They are naughty, of course, and noisy and
tiresome, and make no end of work, but that's the nature of boys; on the
other hand, they are full of fun and good-humour, if you take them the
right way. And they are affectionate little ruffians, too; and so good-
looking. I'm proud of them on Sundays, in their Eton suits."
"But there's only one Sunday, and six long days of shabbiness and
patches! Bruce ought to have a new school suit; the one he is wearing
has descended from the other two, and is disgracefully shabby. I spoke
to mother about it to-day, and she said she had intended to buy one this
month, but business was bad, and there was the coal bill to pay. The
old story! Business always _is_ bad, and the coal bill is ever with
us!"
Mollie crinkled her brows, and for a fraction of a second her face
clouded.
"There's no hope for me, then! I was going to plead for an extra
sovereign to carry me to the end of the quarter, for I've spent my last
cent, and there are one or two absolute necessities which I shall have
to get by hook or by crook, or stay in bed until the next allowance is
due. Well; something will turn up, I suppose! It's always the darkest
the hour before the dawn, and, financially speaking, it's pitch black at
the present moment. Let's pretend Uncle Bernard suddenly appeared upon
the scene, and presented us each with a handsome cheque."
"I'm tired of Uncle Bernard! Ever since I was a child I have heard
about him and his eccentricities, and his house, and his wealth, and
that we were his nearest relatives, and that some day he would surely
remember us, and break his silence; but he never has, so now I look upon
him as a sort of mythological figure who has no real existence. If he
cared anything about us he would have written long ago. I expect he has
forgotten our very existence, and left all his money to charities."
"I expect he has, but it's fun to pretend. Suppose he remembered my
birthday and sent me a ten-pound note! Fancy me, my dear, with a whole
ten pounds to spend as I liked. What fun we'd have! Most of it would
have to go in useful things, but we'd take a sovereign or two and have a
reckless burst just to see what it was like. A hansom to town, lunch at
a real swagger restaurant; and, after that, good seats at a _matinee_,
ices between the acts, and another hansom home, instead of shivering at
the corner waiting for omnibuses. Oh, bliss! Oh, rapture! If it could
only come true! If uncle would once come to see us, he couldn't help
liking us; could he?"
"He'd like me best, because I am pretty," said Ruth calmly.
"He'd like me best, because I am so nice!" contradicted Mollie. And
then they looked at each other, and each made a little grimace, supposed
to express scorn and contempt, but in reality there was so complete an
understanding beneath the pretence that it was almost as expressive as a
caress.
After this came a few minutes' silence, while the two needles were woven
diligently to and fro; then--
"Mollie!" said Ruth suddenly, "I've come to a decision. I've been
thinking it over for ages, so don't imagine it's a whim, or that I don't
mean what I say. It's time that one of us turned out and earned some
money on our own account, and, as I'm the eldest, I'm the one to go.
Business gets worse and worse, and expenses increase, and must go on
increasing, as the children grow up. Trix will be sixteen in summer; in
less than two years she will leave school, and three grown-up daughters
are not needed in any house when the mother is well and strong. I once
thought of waiting until then; but I am twenty-two now, and, if I am to
do any good, there is no time to waste. You could get along without me
even now."
The half-darned sock fell on Mollie's knee, and for once the sunny face
looked thoroughly shocked and startled.
"I couldn't--I couldn't! None of us could! What would happen if
everything depended on me? You remind me, and keep me up to the mark,
and help me out of scrapes. I should be at my wit's end without you.
Mother consults you about everything, and the girls obey you, and the
boys pay more attention to you than they do to anyone else. Ruth,
_everybody_ needs you?"
"They love you best," Ruth said quietly. And the dark brows wrinkled in
wistful fashion.
It was the truth that she was speaking, no empty striving for
compliments; but why was it the truth? She worked hard; Mollie idled.
She was conscientious, self-sacrificing, and methodical; Mollie knew not
the meaning of method, and was frankly selfish on occasions. She
worried herself ill about ways and means, and kept sedulously within the
bounds of her small allowance; Mollie took no heed for the morrow, and
was in a chronic condition of penury or debt.
Despite these striking contrasts, the fact remained, however, that if
any member of the household were ill, or had a secret to confide, or a
favour to request, they betook themselves to the heedless Mollie, rather
than to herself. Dearly as she loved her sister, Ruth felt a little
rankling of soreness mingling with her mystification. She did not yet
realise the magic power which cheerfulness wields in this world, or the
charm of a sunny face and a ready rippling laugh. Hearts turn to the
sun as instinctively as plants, and forgive much for the sake of the
warmth and glow.
"They love you best," said Ruth, and honest Mollie did not contradict,
but stretched out her hand, and laid it caressingly on her sister's arm.
"But I love you, and I can't do without you, Ruth! I couldn't live
alone, for you and I belong to each other. The others are dears in
their way; but they are only `steps,' and we two seem so close together.
Imagine Attica without you! Imagine going to bed alone, with no one to
talk to about the events of the day! What does the horrid old money
matter? We always have been poor, and we always shall be. As long as I
can remember mother has been in despair about the bills; but we wriggle
through somehow, and we shall go on wriggling. It's horrid of you to
talk of going away! Think of me!"
"That's selfish, Mollie. You are the last person I ought to think of
just now. Mother comes first, and the poor old pater, and all those
children. It comes to this, that I can't stand the present state of
affairs any longer. I feel ashamed of taking even the pittance we have;
and I'm tired of the pittance, too, and want to make money for myself,
and not have to think a dozen times over before spending a penny!"
Mollie laughed--a pert, derisive little laugh.
"Sounds well, my dear; but, if it comes to that, what _can_ you do? You
can't teach, for you are not accomplished enough for advanced pupils,
nor patient enough for children. Do you remember trying to teach
Drummond to read, and rapping his poor little knuckles till they were
blue? Besides, talking of pittances, you'd get less than nothing if you
did try it. I don't see what you could do to earn a living."
"I could be a hospital nurse!"
"Perhaps you might--a bad one--for you don't like nursing, and would
only do it for the sake of the pay. I should have no respect for you if
you did that, Ruth. It would be too hard on the unfortunate patients?"
"I could be a companion--"
"People who want companions are old, or gouty, or mad; invariably
disagreeable, or why have they to advertise for a friend? I think I see
you shut up with a trying old lady, combing the lap-dog's hair, and
winding wool! You wouldn't be a very agreeable companion, Ruthans dear.
Better make the best of things, and stay where you are."
Ruth made no further protest, but her lips tightened with an expression
of determination. Her mind being made up, she was not easily swayed
from her purpose. She decided to talk to her mother on the subject on
the following morning.