An Antique Purchase
As the summer came on, bringing the climbing roses out on the cottages,
and filling the village gardens with a wealth of flowers, Katrine's
artistic soul revelled more and more in the picturesque beauty of
Heathwell. Her sketching expeditions were an intense delight; she was
improving fast under Miss Aubrey's tuition, and also picked up many
hints from Mr. Freeman, who would always stop, if he passed their
easels, and give her work the benefit of his criticism. Katrine often
felt as if she were living in the past at Heathwell. Not only were the
cottages antique, but the people also had an old-world atmosphere
lingering among them. Many of the women wore sun-bonnets; they baked
their bread in brick ovens, made rhubarb wine and cowslip beer, cured
their own bacon, and pursued various homely little avocations which are
fast going out of date in other parts of the country. Even the
Elementary-school children were not aggressively advanced; some of them
still bobbed curtsies, and wore clean white pinafores to go to church on
Sundays.
Miss Aubrey was a great favourite in the village. Her painting brought
her closely into touch with the people, and she had a ready sympathy
for them, quite unmixed with patronage--a distinction which they
recognized and appreciated. The patriarch in the picturesque
weather-stained coat would slowly bring out his reminiscences during the
hours she sat sketching him in his garden; the mothers would tell her
their troubles; and the children swarmed round her like bees. It was an
entirely new phase of life for Katrine, who had had no experience before
of our sturdy English peasantry. She saw the people at first through
Miss Aubrey's spectacles; then she learnt to like them on her own
account, and acquired quite a number of village friends--the blacksmith
who smiled at her from his forge, the crippled wife of the saddler, who
waved greetings from her seat at the window, the fussy little spinster
in charge of the post office, the six ancient pensioners who generally
sat sunning themselves on the bench outside the almshouses, the cobbler
who bobbed up his head and smiled as she passed his open doorway, the
widow who baked the brown bread and the muffins, and the elderly dame at
the crockery shop.
There were many quaint people in Heathwell--so many that Katrine often
declared a list ought to be made of the village worthies and preserved
in a local museum. There was Linton, a white-haired, bent old labourer,
who supplemented his parish relief by breaking stones on the roadside.
Katrine first made friends with him over a stile. It happened to be
rather a high and difficult one, and he was sitting on the top of it, so
she paused to allow him to descend. "Come on, missie, come on!" he cried
in encouraging tones. "Though it do be a rare awkward stile for
faymales. I telled Parson so, when he a-put it up; but says he to I,
'Faymales or no faymales, they'll have to be getten over it!'"
Linton was a character in his way, a self-taught antiquarian, a nature
lover, a dormant poet, an incipient artist, and something of a
philosopher round it all. Who knows what strange dreams he may have
dreamed in his youth, of fame to be won and songs to be uttered? But
life's obligations had proved too heavy a burden, and his was still a
mute inglorious muse. His delight in Miss Aubrey's sketches was almost
pathetic; he would toddle far out of his way to pass her easel, and take
a peep at the progress of some roadside scene or cottage garden. He even
volunteered, one evening, to find her a subject, and to please him, she
and Katrine allowed him to escort them to the summit of a mound near the
river. The place without doubt was an ancient grave, for it was close to
Offa's dyke, the great eighth-century barrier between Saxon and Celt,
and though from an artistic point of view it was not paintable, the
romance of its situation was palpable.
To Miss Aubrey and Katrine the true subject was the white-haired, rugged
old fellow himself, standing outlined against the glowing west, as with
outstretched hand he showed where the slain in the forgotten
battle-field had been heaped, and the earth piled high above them. His
voice rang as he tried to picture the far-off scene, and there shone
from his eyes just a gleam of the divine fire.
"Look around you!" he cried. "See where yon river's a-windin' down, and
yon hills a-stand back as they did a thousand years agone. Aye! I often
comes hither and thinks what a sight it will be for their uprising!"
Of all the quaint village folk perhaps the funniest was Mrs. Stubbs, who
kept a little shop at the corner of the High Street. It was nominally a
green-grocer's, but it included so many other things as well, that it
might fairly claim to be a china store, a second-hand bookseller's, and
a repository of antiquities. Though the counter was spread with cabbages
and cauliflowers, the floor was covered with crockery, and the small
parlour behind was overflowing with old furniture and all kinds of
oddments picked up at auctions--eighteenth-century chairs, bow-shaped
mirrors, ancient etchings and engravings, Wedgwood plates, Toby jugs,
horn lanterns, tortoise-shell tea-caddies, blunderbusses, cases of
butterflies, clocks, snuff-boxes, medallions, pewter dishes, and a vast
number of other articles. Mrs. Stubbs had a genius for a bargain. She
was a familiar figure at every sale in the district, where she would bid
successfully even against hook-nosed individuals of the Hebrew
persuasion, and bear off her spoils in triumph. She knew the marketable
value of most of her antiques to the last halfpenny, and carried on a
successful little business by disposing of them to London dealers, or to
collectors in the neighbourhood, often at double the prices she had
originally paid for them.
For Katrine this old curiosity shop held an absolute fascination. She
had been brought up to appreciate such things, for her father's chief
hobby was the collecting of antiques. Mr. Marsden revelled in carved oak
furniture and Worcester china, and had communicated some of his
enthusiasm to his daughter. Miss Aubrey sympathized with Katrine's
tastes, and would often allow her to pay a visit to the shop, sometimes
sending her there on small errands.
For the ostensible purpose of ordering peas for Aireyholme, Katrine
entered Mrs. Stubbs's repository one memorable afternoon. The good dame
had attended a sale on the preceding day, and her small establishment
had received so many additions to its already large collection that it
was almost overflowing into the street. She was superintending the
rearrangement of some of these articles by Mr. Stubbs, a blear-eyed
individual who proved a sad thorn in the flesh to his capable better
half, and whose delinquencies formed a topic for much of her
conversation.
"He's no more use nor a babe to-day," she confided indignantly, "with
his legs that wobbly and his hand that shaky, I daren't let him lay a
finger on the china, for fear he'd be dropping it. He took half a crown
out of the till when my back was turned, and off he goes with it
straight to the 'Dragon'. Well, he was a second-hand article when I
married him, and I might 'a known he weren't up to much, if I'd had the
experience I've got now."
Mrs. Stubbs spoke with warmth, evidently regarding her husband as a bad
investment, which she unfortunately had no opportunity of passing on at
a profit to anybody else. She hustled him out of the way at present, and
telling him to retire to the kitchen, took Katrine into the crowded
little parlour to inspect her latest purchases. The sale had been at
the house of an old maiden lady who had possessed many antique
belongings, including carved ivories and miniatures, as well as Sheraton
furniture. These treasures were, of course, far beyond Katrine's pocket,
though she regarded them with the covetous eye of a born collector.
"I'm afraid I can't afford anything old," she said at last. "I really
came to order three pecks of peas for Mrs. Franklin."
"I've a little cupboard here I'd like to show you," urged Mrs. Stubbs,
who always saw in Katrine a possible customer. "It went dirt-cheap at
the sale, too, so I could afford to let you have it for one pound five,
and clear a trifle of profit, just enough to pay me for the trouble of
fetching it. What do you think of this, now?"
The cupboard in question was a small oak one, about two feet in height,
with the date 1791 carved on its door. It was plainly intended for
spices, for inside it had nine tiny drawers, surrounding a space in the
centre. It was such a quaint, bijou, attractive little piece that
Katrine promptly fell in love with it. She knew it would absolutely
delight her father, and she determined to buy it, and give it to him as
a birthday present.
"If you'd say a pound?" she ventured, remembering that all old-furniture
dealers affect an almost Eastern habit of bargaining.
"Done!" declared Mrs. Stubbs promptly. "I wouldn't quarrel with you over
a few shillings, and I'm so stocked up with things, I'll be glad to make
room. This is as nice a bit of oak as you'd find in all Heathwell."
"I suppose it comes from Miss Jackson's family?" said Katrine. "What
are those two initials carved under the date? They look like an R and an
L."
"Maybe it might come from Mrs. Jackson's mother's. I didn't hear where
she got it, but she'd a lot of fine stuff in her house, and thought a
deal of it, too. I've seen her at auctions myself, buying a few odd
trifles she fancied. Poor dear lady! it's sad to think she's dead and
gone. She'd be sore upset if she could see her things all scattered.
Well, missie, I'll send Stubbs round to Aireyholme this evening with the
cupboard; but don't you give him the money for it, however he may ask.
You call and pay me quiet-like, some other time when he ain't about.
He's not fit to be trusted with a penny piece."
The delinquent Stubbs staggered round in the course of the evening,
bearing the little oak cupboard in his arms; but, mindful of his
failing, Katrine forbore even to give him a tip for himself.
"I felt horribly mean," she assured Miss Aubrey, to whom she had
confided the particulars of her purchase, "especially as he hinted so
desperately."
"You were right, for he would have gone straight to the 'Dragon' and
spent it. Shall we carry your cupboard into the studio? Then we can all
enjoy it while it's here."
"Oh, please do! Isn't it a little beauty? Dad will be simply delighted
with it. I want to show it to Mr. Freeman. He's a very good judge of old
oak, and will know if it's genuine."
"There can be no mistake about its genuineness. I think you are very
lucky to get hold of it," replied Miss Aubrey, calling one of the
servants, and telling her to take the cupboard upstairs.
A place was found for Katrine's treasure on the top of an oak chest, and
it was admired to her heart's content. By special invitation Mr. Freeman
came to inspect it, and congratulated her on her possession.
"It's a real antique--a very pretty little piece. It will just suit Mr.
Marsden. In the meantime it's an ornament in the studio here. You'll
find these small drawers most convenient to keep paints and bottles in."
Katrine always rode her hobbies hard. The acquisition of the oak
spice-cupboard had started her in a new line. She now posed as a
collector of antiques. She borrowed some books from Mr. Freeman, and
after a brief study of their contents began to talk glibly of the
Sheraton and Heppelwhite periods, Adams chimney-pieces, and soft paste
Worcester china. She aired her new-found knowledge so ceaselessly, in
season and out of season, that the girls, always ready to take offence
at her superior attitude, began to make fun of her. They chuckled
audibly when Mrs. Franklin, more mathematical than artistic, made her
calculate the cubic contents of her cupboard as a problem in class,
especially as her answer was wrong, and she had to work the sum again.
All sorts of mock treasures were presented to her: rusty nails, old
tins, scraps of leather dug up from the garden, or pieces of worm-eaten
wood. One morning the following poetic gem was left on her
dressing-table. The authoress was apparently too modest to sign her
name, so the lines were anonymous.
"There was a collector of Oak,
She knew more than ordin'ry folk!
On pastes soft or hard
She'd hold forth by the yard,
And now she's become quite a joke!"
Fortunately Katrine possessed a sense of humour that counterbalanced the
strain of priggishness in her composition. She laughed at the effusion
and took the hint. She was perhaps conscious that she had been "putting
on side" rather too vigorously, and that it would be judicious to climb
down.
"It's Viola who wrote it, I'm certain," she confided to Gwethyn. "Look
here! I vote we play a joke on the school. I've thought of something
rather fine."
The two girls put their heads together, and had a long confabulation.
The result they confided to nobody, but during the afternoon they were
observed to be hunting round the garden and orchard, apparently in
search of something. Next day, Katrine studied the time-table carefully,
and ascertained that the studio would be unoccupied by any classes from
3.30 to 4 p.m. Making the excuse that she wished to touch up some
sketches there, she easily persuaded Miss Aubrey to excuse part of her
outdoor work that afternoon, and returning to Aireyholme at half-past
three, she secured undisturbed possession of the room for half an hour.
She did not spend the time in painting, though she was extremely busy.
When the girls trooped from their forms at four o'clock, they found a
large and prominent notice posted up in the passage.
ART EXHIBITION
A choice and unique COLLECTION OF ANTIQUES AND CURIOS is now on
view in the Studio, and forms an unparalleled opportunity of
making acquaintance with the domestic arts and industries of the
Middle Ages. Many objects of historic interest. Inspection
Invited. Admission Free. Catalogues One Penny.
Proceeds given to the Belgian Relief Fund.
Everybody at once marched upstairs; even Dorrie and Viola, who were
inclined to hold aloof, fell victims to Eve's instinct of curiosity, and
followed the rest, excusing their weakness on the ground that as
monitresses they felt obliged to be present at all school happenings,
and were thus only fulfilling their duty.
Giggling a little, the girls entered the studio. The large table in the
centre was spread with a variety of objects, neatly numbered as in a
museum. By the door stood Katrine with a pile of hand-printed
catalogues, and the Belgian Relief Fund Box from the dining-room
chimney-piece. As the exhibition seemed unintelligible without a
catalogue, the pennies rattled briskly into her box. The exhibits were
as diverse as they were extraordinary, and according to the descriptions
were both rare and historic.
No. 1. (Upper leather of a mouldy old boot.) Portion of the
footgear of Simon de Montfort, worn before the Battle of
Evesham, 1265.
No. 2. (A broken crock of china.) Valuable piece of soft paste
Worcester from the Huntingdon Collection.
No. 3. (A rusty hairpin.) Pin worn in the head-dress of Queen
Elizabeth at the Kenilworth Pageant.
No. 4. (A crooked nail.) Nail from the gibbet of Piers Gaveston,
executed at Blacklow Hill, Warwick, 1312.
No. 5. (A dilapidated horseshoe.) Shoe worn by the horse of
Charles I at the Battle of Nottingham, 1642.
No. 6. Glove button of Marie Antoinette.
No. 7. Needle used in embroidery by Mary Queen of Scots.
No. 8. Safety-pin employed in the toilet of Edward VI when an
infant.
No. 9. Portion of feeding-bottle of Henry VIII.
No. 10. Do. fragment of rattle.
No. 11. (A worm-eaten piece of wood.) Relic of vessel of the
Spanish Armada.
No. 12. (Rusty cocoa tin.) Remains of cup in which the Barons
drank success to Magna Charta, 1215.
No. 13. (A small pebble.) Stone worn as a penance in the shoe of
Henry II, on a pilgrimage to the shrine of St. Thomas a Becket.
No. 14. (A portion of wickerwork.) Fragment of guillotine basket
used in French Revolution.
No. 15. (A rusty key.) Original key of dungeon in Berkeley
Castle where Edward II was murdered.
No. 16. (A shabby quill.) Pen used to sign Magna Charta, 1215.
The girls laughed immoderately to see the various objects which they had
presented in mockery to Katrine, described as such priceless relics.
"You haven't put in the soda-water bottle I gave you!" said Coralie.
"It's stamped with the maker's name, though I thought of breaking it,
and preserving a portion as 'Roman Glass'," replied Katrine. "I'm going
to write a book on collecting, next. I shall call it 'From Nine to
Ninety, Reminiscences of the Fads of my First and Second Childhoods, by
a Centenarian'. The introduction will contain 'Early Natural History
Instincts--Preservation of Earth Worms and Dissection of Flies at the
Age of Two'. It's to be published by subscription, 7_s._ 6_d._ per
volume. Anybody who likes can give me the money now."
"We'll wait till we see the proofs, thanks!" tittered the girls.
"I like Simon de Montfort's shoe best," declared Githa; then drawing
Gwethyn aside, she asked, "Where did Katrine get that little cupboard?"
Githa had been away from school for a few days, on the sick list, and
had only returned that morning. She had heard the girls teasing Katrine
about her oak treasure, but had not seen it until now. She examined it
with much attention.
"Kattie bought it from Mrs. Stubbs," answered Gwethyn. "I believe she
got it at a sale--a Miss Jackson's things."
Githa nodded.
"I know. She died last month. It used to be ours. The R and L are for
Richard Ledbury. It stood on a table in the library at the Grange.
Grandfather had promised it to me. He often called it 'Githa's
cupboard'. I suppose Uncle Wilfred put it in with the rest of the things
at the sale, and Miss Jackson must have bought it. I always wondered
what had become of it. It's such a dear little cupboard."
"Oh! I'm sorry if we've sneaked it away from you."
"Never mind. It's not your fault; I'd rather Katrine had it than anyone
else. I'm glad to see it again, and to know that somebody's got it
who'll value it."