When Nesta reached the railway station she was almost beside herself
with fear. She went to the ticket office to get a third-class single
ticket for Newcastle. There was a girl standing just in front of her, a
commonplace, respectable looking girl, who asked for a ticket to a place
which she pronounced as Souchester. The ticket only cost one and
sixpence. It flashed through Nesta's mind that she might just as well
go to Souchester as anywhere else. It had not before entered into her
brain that here lay an immediate source of relief. Perhaps her family
would be really frightened when they knew nothing about her, so
frightened that when they saw her again, they would forgive her.
Scarcely knowing what she did, and with no previous intention of going
anywhere but straight home, she too asked for a ticket to Souchester.
The man handed it to her.
"One and sixpence, please," he said.
She pushed in her half-sovereign, received back eight and sixpence
change, which she thought great riches, slipped the money into her
purse, put the purse into her pocket, and went on the platform. The man
directed her which way to go to catch the Souchester train. She
followed the girl who had first put the idea into her mind. This girl
looked of the servant class. She was respectably dressed, she carried a
parcel wrapped up in brown paper. Nesta felt that between her and that
girl there was a sort of link; she could not quite account for it, but
she was anxious not to lose sight of her.
"Souchester," said the man who stood on the platform, taking Nesta's
ticket and examining it, "there you are, Miss, right ahead, that train,
_that_ train, Miss, it's just starting, you be quick if you want to
catch it." Nesta hurried. The girl with the brown paper parcel got
into a third-class carriage, Nesta followed her, and a minute later the
train was in motion. At first it went slowly, then quickly, and soon
the gay town of Scarborough was out of sight, and they were going
rapidly between fields full of waving corn, with the blue sea still
close at hand.
It so happened that Nesta and the girl with the brown paper parcel were
the only two in this special compartment. Nesta looked at her
companion; she did not exchange a single word with her, but
nevertheless, she was for the time being her guiding star. The girl was
essentially commonplace; she was stout, very dumpy in figure, she had a
large, full-moon face, small eyes, a wide mouth, and high cheek bones.
She wore no gloves, and her hands were coarse and red. Presently she
pulled a coarse sandwich, made of two hunches of bread with a piece of
bacon in the middle, from her brown paper parcel, and began to eat it
deliberately. When she had eaten half, she looked at Nesta. Then
taking a knife out of her pocket, she cut a piece from her sandwich and
offered it awkwardly, and yet with a good-natured smile, to her fellow
traveller. Nesta thanked her, and said she was not hungry.
This incident, however, opened the ball, and Nesta was able to ask what
sort of place Souchester was.
"Oh, just a country place," said the girl. "Be yer going there, Miss?"
"I'm a poor girl just like yourself," said Nesta. She became suddenly
interested. If this was not a real adventure, a real proper running
away, she did not know what was.
"I am a poor girl like you," repeated Nesta, "and I am going to
Souchester."
"Now I wonder what for?" said the girl. "My name is Mary Hogg. I'm in
a place--it's a big house, and I'm under kitchenmaid. I have had a
week's holiday to see my aunt, who lives in a poor part of Scarborough,
not where the rich folks live. I've had a jolly week and now I'm going
back to my place. There are very few poor at Souchester, it's just a
little bit of a village, and it's owned by the St Just family."
Nesta suddenly felt she had been entrapped once more. "What St Justs?"
she asked.
"Why, the St Justs," answered the girl. "Miss Angela's folks. You
must have heard of Miss Angela St Just."
"Yes," said Nesta, then she added petulantly--"They seem to be
everywhere."
"Oh, no, they ain't," said Mary Hogg. "Sir Edward and his daughter,
they've had what you call reverses, but the rest of the family is rich,
very rich. They owns Hurst Castle, and my place. I belong to 'em, so
to speak. I'm at Castle Walworth. I'm under kitchenmaid. They keep a
power of servants; you can scarce count 'em on your fingers."
Nesta was interested.
"Have you very hard work to do?" she asked.
"Oh, no; nothing to speak of, and I gets rare good living, and no end of
pickings, too, which I takes to my mother, whenever I has time to go and
see her. She lives in a bit of a cottage just outside of the village.
She's very poor, indeed, is mother. She's a widdy. Father died five
years ago, and left her with me and two boys. The boys is still at
school. The St Just family is very good to mother, and it was through
Miss Angela asking, that I got a place as kitchenmaid at the Castle.
I'm proud of my place."
"You must be," said Nesta.
"It's real respectable," said the girl. "You can't be like ordinary
servants; you mustn't consider yourself an ordinary servant there. Just
think of me--a bit of a girl like me--I ain't seventeen yet--having to
wear a little tight bonnet with strings fastened under my chin, and a
regular livery. Grey, it is, with red pipings. That's the livery the
servants at Castle Walworth wear. The bonnets are black, with a bit of
red just bordering them inside. We look very nice when we go to church,
all in our livery. But when I goes to see mother, then I can wear just
what I like, and when I'm with my aunt--oh, my word, I did have a good
time at Scarborough--but here we be, Miss, here we be. I'll wish you
good-day, Miss."
The train stopped and the two girls alighted on the platform. Nesta
walked hurriedly by her companion's side. The girl with the brown paper
parcel did not seem to want anything more to do with her. The tickets
were taken by the ticket collector, and then they found themselves side
by side in a narrow road, a road branching off to right and left. It
was a winding road, quite pretty and very countrified indeed. If there
was a village, there seemed to be no trace of one.
"Where's the village?" asked Nesta, doing her best to detain the sole
person in all the world whom she thought she had a right to speak to.
"Why, there--down in the valley, nestling among all them trees," said
Mary Hogg. "This is my way," she added, "straight up this steep hill,
and there's the Castle, and the flag is flying; that shows the family
are at home. They'll be waiting for me. If Mrs Gaskell, that's our
housekeeper, finds I'm five minutes late, why she'll blow my nose off."
"How awful!" said Nesta.
"Oh, she ain't really so bad; she's quite a kind sort; but the family is
at home, and I'm due back now, so I'll wish you good-evening, Miss."
"Stay one minute, just one minute."
"I can't really, Miss; I must hurry; time's up, and time's everything at
Castle Walworth. We, none of us, dare be one minute late, not one
blessed minute. There's the family has their pleasure, and they must
have time for that, and we servants, we has our work, and we must have
time for that. That's the way of the world, Miss. I can't stay to
talk, really, Miss."
"Then I'll walk with you," said Nesta.
"It's a steep hill, Miss, and if you've come to see your friends--"
"That's just what I haven't--I have come to--Oh, Mary Hogg, I must
confide in you. I have come here because I want to--to hide for a
little."
"My word! To hide!" said Mary Hogg. She really quite interested at
last. She forgot the awful Mrs Gaskell and all the terrors that
punctuality caused in the St Just establishment. Her eyes became round
as the letter "O," and her mouth formed itself into much the same shape.
"You be a bad 'un!" she said. "So you've run away?"
"Yes, I have. I haven't time to tell you my story, but I want to stay
at Souchester just for a little! you must help me, for I wouldn't have
come to Souchester but for you."
"There now; didn't I say you were bad? What in the name of wonder have
I to do with it?"
"I was going in quite another direction, and I heard you ask for a
ticket to Souchester, and I thought I'd come too, and I got into the
same carriage with you because I thought you looked kind and--and
respectable. I've got some money," continued Nesta, speaking with
sudden dignity. "I'm not a beggar, but I want to go to a very cheap
place just to spend the night. Do you know of any place? It won't do
you any harm to tell me if there's anybody in the village who would give
me a bed."
"But, do you mean a very, very cheap place?" asked Mary Hogg, who
thought on the spot that she might do a good deal for her mother. Mrs
Hogg was so poor that she was glad even of stray sixpences and pence.
"I don't mind how poor it is, if it is only cheap; that is what I want--
something very cheap."
"There's mother's house. Would you mind going there?"
"Of course I wouldn't. Where is it?"
"I must be quick; I really must. You had better come a little way up
the hill with me, and I'll tell you. It's rather steep, but there, I'll
go a little slower. I'll tell Mrs Gaskell that I met a fellow creature
in distress. She's a very Christian woman, is Mrs Gaskell, and that,
perhaps, will make her more inclined to be lenient with me. I'll tell
her that."
"But you won't tell her my name, will you?"
"In course not, seeing as I don't know it."
"That's true," said Nesta, with a relieved laugh.
"And I don't want to," said Mary Hogg.
"Better not," said Nesta.
"Well, if you think mother'll give you a bed--"
"I don't know--it was you who said it."
"She will, if you pay her. You may have to give her fourpence--can you
afford that?"
"Yes, I think so."
"She'll give you your breakfast for three ha'pence, and a sort of dinner
meal for threepence. Can you manage that?"
"Yes, quite well."
Nesta made a mental calculation. If Mrs Hogg was really so very
reasonable, she might stay with her for several days. Eight and
sixpence would last a long time at that rate.
"You are very kind," she said, with rapture. "That will do beautifully.
Now, just tell me where she lives, will you?"
"You say as Mary Hogg told you to come. Mother'll know what that means.
It's a very small house; 'tain't in no way the sort as you're used to."
"I don't mind. Tell me where it is."
"Well; there's the village yonder. You foller your nose and you'll get
it. By-and-by you'll cross the stream over a little bridge, but still
foller after your nose, and you'll come to a cottage just at the side of
the road, standing all alone. You can go up the path and knock at the
door, and when you knock, mother'll say, `Come right in,' and you'll go
right in, and mother 'll say, `What do you want?' and you'll say, `Mary
Hogg sent me.' Then you'll manage the rest. Good-bye to you; I really
must run."
Mary put wings to her feet, and toiling and panting with her brown paper
parcel, she hurried up the steep hill towards that spot where Castle
Walworth reflected from its many windows the gleam of the now westering
sun.
Nesta stood for a minute just where her new friend had left her, and
then went down towards the village. She felt in her pocket for her
little purse; she took it out and opened it. Yes, there was the money
that Mrs Griffiths had lent her--eight shillings and sixpence. She
felt herself quite wealthy. At the Hogg establishment she might really
manage to live for several days.
Following Mary's directions she reached the little village street, found
the rustic bridge, crossed it and went along a pretty shady road. Some
people passed her, poor people returning from their work, people of her
own class, some well dressed, some the reverse. They all looked at her,
for people will stare at a stranger in country villages. Then a
carriage passed by with several gaily dressed ladies in it, and they
also turned and looked at Nesta. Nesta hurried after that. How awful
it would be if she suddenly met Angela St Just Angela would know her,
of course, and she would know Angela. But no one in the carriage seemed
to recognise her, and the prancing horses soon bowled out of sight.
Then she came to a cottage covered with ivy, roof and all; it almost
seemed weighted down by the evergreens. She saw a tiny porch made of
latticework, which was also covered with evergreens. The porch was so
small and so entirely covered that Nesta had slightly to stoop to get
within. There was a little door which was shut; she knocked, and a
voice said, "Come right in."
Nesta felt for a moment as though she were Red Riding Hood, and the wolf
were within. She lifted the latch and went in. The first person she
saw was a sandy-haired middle-aged woman, with a strong likeness to Mary
Hogg. The woman said, "Oh, my!" then she gave a little curtsey, then
she said, "Oh, my!" again. Nesta stood and stared at her. A small boy
who had been lying face downward on the floor, started to his feet,
thrust his hands into his trouser pockets, and stared also. Another
boy, who had been bending over a book, and who was a little older, flung
the book on the floor, and added to the group of starers.
"Mary Hogg sent me," said Nesta.
She used the words wondering if they would be a talisman, the "open
sesame" which her hungry soul desired. They certainly had an immediate
effect, but not the effect she expected. Mrs Hogg darted forward,
dusted a chair, and said:
"Honoured Miss, be seated."
Nesta dropped into the chair, for she was really very tired.
"If you are one of the young ladies from the Castle, I'm sorry I ain't
got all the sewing done yet, but I will to-morrow."
"No," said Nesta, "it isn't that. I'm not one of the young ladies from
the Castle; I'm just a girl, a stranger, and I want a bed for the night.
I travelled in the same train with your daughter, Mary Hogg, and she
sent me on here. She said you would give me a bed, and that you'd
expect me to pay. I can pay you. I have got eight and sixpence. I
hope you won't charge me a great deal, for that is all the money I have
in the wide world. But I can pay you; will you give me a bed?"
Now this was most exciting to Mrs Hogg. It was still more exciting to
the two boys, whose names were Ben and Dan. They stood now side by
side, each with his hands in his pockets, and his glowing eyes fixed on
Nesta's face. Mrs Hogg stood silent; she was considering deeply.
"There's but two rooms," she said, at last. "This room, and the bedroom
beyond; but there's the scullery."
"I could sleep anywhere," said Nesta, who was terrified at the thought
of being thrust out of this humble habitation.
"There's only one thing to be done," said Mrs Hogg, "you must share my
bed."
This was scarcely agreeable, but any port in a storm, Nesta thought.
"Very well."
"I'll charge you twopence a night."
"Thank you," said Nesta.
"The boys will have to leave the room and sleep in the scullery."
"Hooray!" said Dan.
"Hurroa!" cried Ben.
"Quiet, lads, quiet," said the mother. "You go right out of the way and
let the young lady rest herself."
"I'm just a girl," said Nesta. "I'd best not be a young lady; I'm just
a girl, and I'm very glad to come and stay with you. I shall be rather
hungry presently," she continued; "could you give me any supper?"
"If it's anything special, I'll charge you what it costs," said Mrs
Hogg; "but if it's anything, why, it'll be three ha'pence for supper,
twopence for breakfast, threepence for dinner. Them's my terms."
"It must be anything," said Nesta.
Mrs Hogg nodded. She whispered to her eldest boy, who, with another
"Hooray!" rushed out of the cottage, followed by his brother. Nesta
sank down in the shadow; she had found a refuge. For the present she
was safe. Even Horace, with all his penetration, could not possibly
find her in Mrs Hogg's kitchen, in Souchester. She made a hurried
calculation. She might live here for over a week quite comfortably. In
her present terrible plight a week seemed like forever.