A Mummer's Wife Part 4

He made several attempts at conversation, but she did not respond, her whole mind being held up by the thought: 'Is he going to take the rooms, I wonder?' At last he said:

'I like these apartments very well; and you say that I can have breakfast here?'

'Oh, you can have anything you order, sir. I, or my mother, will--'

'Very well, then; we may consider the matter settled. I'll tell them to send down my things from the theatre.'

This seemed to conclude the affair, and they went downstairs. But Mr.

Lennox stopped on the next landing, and without any apparent object re-examined the drawing-room. Speaking like a man who wanted to start a conversation, he manifested interest in everything, and asked questions concerning the rattle of the sewing-machine, which could be heard distinctly; and before she could stop him he opened the door of the workroom. He wondered at all the brown-paper patterns that were hung on the walls, and Miss Hender, too eager to inform him, took advantage of the occasion to glide in a word to the effect that she was going to see him that evening at the theatre. Kate was amused, but felt it was her duty to take the first opportunity of interrupting the conversation. For some unexplained reason Mr. Lennox seemed loath to go, and it was with difficulty he was got downstairs. Even then he could not pa.s.s the kitchen door without stopping to speak to the apprentices. He asked them where they had found their brown hair and eyes, and attempted to exchange a remark with Mrs. Ede. Kate thought the encounter unfortunate, but it pa.s.sed off better than she expected. Mrs. Ede replied that the little girls were getting on very well, and, apparently satisfied with this answer, Mr.

Lennox turned to go. His manner indicated his Bohemian habits, for after all this waste of time he suddenly remembered that he had an appointment, and would probably miss it by about a quarter of an hour.

'Will you require any dinner?' asked Kate, following him to the door.

At the mention of the word 'dinner' he again appeared to forget all about his appointment. His face changed its expression, and his manner again grew confidential. He asked all kinds of questions as to what she could get him to eat, but without ever quite deciding whether he would be able to find time to eat it. Kate thought she had never seen such a man. At last in a fit of desperation, he said:

'I'll have a bit of cold steak. I haven't the time to dine, but if you'll put that out for me ... I like a bit of supper after the theatre--'

Kate wished to ask him what he would like to drink with it, but it was impossible to get an answer. He couldn't stop another minute, and, dodging the pa.s.sers-by, he rushed rapidly down the street. She watched until the big shoulders were lost in the crowd, and asked herself if she liked the man who had just left her; but the answer slipped from her when she tried to define it, and with a sigh she turned into the shop and mechanically set straight those shirts that hung aslant on the traversing wires. At that moment Mrs. Ede came from the kitchen carrying a basin of soup for her sick son. She wanted to know why Kate had stayed so long talking to that man.

'Talking to him!' Kate repeated, surprised at the words and suspicious of an implication of vanity. 'If we're going to take his money it's only right that we should try to make him comfortable.'

'I doubt if his ten shillings a week will bring us much good,' Mrs. Ede answered sourly; and she went upstairs, backbone and principles equally rigid, leaving Kate to fume at what she termed her mother-in-law's unreasonableness.

But Kate had no time to indulge in many angry thoughts, for the tall gaunt woman returned with tears in her eyes to beg pardon.

'I'm so sorry, dear. Did I speak crossly? I'll say no more about the actor, I'll promise.'

'I don't see why I should be bullied in my own house,' Kate answered, feeling that she must a.s.sert herself. 'Why shouldn't I let my rooms to Mr.

Lennox if I like?'

'You're right,' Mrs. Ede replied--'I've said too much; but don't turn against me, Kate.'

'No, no, mother; I don't turn against you. You're the only person I have to love.'

At these words a look of pleasure pa.s.sed over the hard, blunt features of the peasant woman, and she said with tears in her voice:

'You know I'm a bit hard with my tongue, but that's all; I don't mean it.'

'Well, say no more, mother,' and Kate went upstairs to her workroom. Miss Hender, already returned from dinner, was trembling with excitement, and she waited impatiently for the door to be shut that she might talk. She had been round to see her friend the stage carpenter, and he had told her all about the actor. Mr. Lennox was the boss; Mr. Hayes, the acting manager, was a n.o.body, generally pretty well boozed; and Mr. c.o.x, the London gent, didn't travel.

Kate listened, only half understanding what was said.

'And what part does he play in _Madame Angot_?' she asked as she bent her head to examine the bead tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs she was st.i.tching on to the sleeves.

'The low comedy part,' said Miss Hender; but seeing that Kate did not understand, she hastened to explain that the low comedy parts meant the funny parts.

'He's the man who's lost his wig--La--La Ravodee, I think they call it--and a very nice man he is. When I was talking to Bill I could see Mr. Lennox between the wings; he had his arm round Miss Leslie's shoulder. I'm sure he's sweet on her.'

Kate looked up from her work and stared at Miss Hender slowly. The announcement that Mr. Lennox was the funny man was disappointing, but to hear that he was a woman's lover turned her against him.

'All those actors are alike. I see now that my mother-in-law was right. I shouldn't have let him my rooms.'

'One's always afraid of saying anything to you, ma'am; you twist one's words so. I'm sure I didn't mean to say there was any harm between him and Miss Leslie. There, perhaps you'll go and tell him that I spoke about him.'

'I'm sure I shall do nothing of the sort. Mr. Lennox has taken my rooms for a week, and there's an end of it. I'm not going to interfere in his private affairs.'

The conversation then came to a pause, and all that was heard for a long time was the clicking of the needle and the rustling of silk. Kate wondered how it was that Mr. Lennox was so different off the stage from what he was when on; and it seemed to her strange that such a nice gentleman--for she was obliged to admit that he was that--should choose to play the funny parts. As for his connection with Miss Leslie, that of course was none of her business. What did it matter to her? He was in love with whom he pleased. She'd have thought he was a man who would not easily fall in love; but perhaps Miss Leslie was very pretty, and, for the matter of that, they might be going to be married. Meanwhile Miss Hender regretted having told Kate anything about Mr. Lennox. The best and surest way was to let people find out things for themselves, and having an instinctive repugnance to virtue--at least, to questions of conscience--she could not abide whining about spilt milk. Beyond an occasional reference to their work, the women did not speak again, until at three o'clock Mrs. Ede announced that dinner was ready. There was not much to eat, however, and Kate had little appet.i.te, and she was glad when the meal was finished. She had then to help Mrs. Ede in getting the rooms ready, and when this was done it was time for tea. But not even this meal did they get in comfort, for Mr. Lennox had ordered a beefsteak for supper; somebody would have to go to fetch it. Mrs.

Ede said she would, and Kate went into the shop to attend to the few customers who might call in the course of the evening. The last remarkable event in this day of events was the departure of Miss Hender, who came downstairs saying she had only just allowed herself time to hurry to the theatre; she feared she wouldn't be there before the curtain went up, and she was sorry Kate wasn't coming, but she would tell her to-morrow all about Mr. Lennox, and how the piece went. As Kate bade her a.s.sistant good-night a few customers dropped in, all of whom gave a great deal of trouble. She had to pull down a number of packages to find what was wanted.

Then her next-door neighbour, the stationer's wife, called to ask after Mr.

Ede and to buy a reel of cotton; and so, in evening chat, the time pa.s.sed, until the fruiterer's boy came to ask if he should put up the shutters.

Kate nodded, and remarked to her friend, who had risen to go, what a nice, kind man Mr. Jones was.

'Yes, indeed, they are very kind people, but their prices are very high. Do you deal with them?'

Kate replied that she did; and, as the fruiterer's boy put up the shutters with a series of bangs, she tried to persuade her neighbour to buy a certain gown she had been long talking of.

'Tr.i.m.m.i.n.g and everything, it won't cost you more than thirty shillings; you'll want something fresh now that summer's coming on.'

'So I shall. I'll speak to my man about it to-night. I think he'll let me have it.'

'He won't refuse you if you press him.'

'Well, we shall see,' and bidding Kate good-night she pa.s.sed into the street.

The evening was fine, and Kate stood for a long while watching the people surging out of the potteries towards Piccadilly. 'Coming out,' she said, 'for their evening walk,' and she was glad that the evening was fine.

'After a long day in the potteries they want some fresh air,' and then, raising her eyes from the streets, she watched the sunset die out of the west; purple and yellow streaks still outlined the grey expanse of the hills, making the brick town look like a little toy. An ugly little brick town--brick of all colours: the pale reddish-brown of decaying brick-yards, the fierce red brick of the newly built warehouses that turns to purple, and above the walls scarlet tiled roofs pointing sharp angles to a few stars.

Kate stood watching the fading of the hills into night clouds, interested in her thoughts vaguely--her thoughts adrift and faded somewhat as the spectacle before her. She wondered if her lodger would be satisfied with her mother's cooking; she hoped so. He was a well-spoken man, but she could not hope to change mother. As the image of the lodger floated out of her mind Hender's came into it, and she hoped the girl would not get into trouble. So many poor girls are in trouble; how many in the crowd pa.s.sing before her door? The difficulty she was in with Mrs. Barnes's dress suggested itself, and with a shiver and a sigh she shut the street-door and went upstairs. The day had pa.s.sed; it was gone like a hundred days before it--wearily, perhaps, yet leaving in the mind an impression of something done, of duties honestly accomplished.

III

'Oh, ma'am!' Hender broke in, 'you can't think how amusing it was last night! I never enjoyed myself so much in my life. The place was crammed!

Such a house! And Miss Leslie got three encores and a call after each act.'

'And what was Mr. Lennox like?'

'Oh, he only played a small part--one of the policemen. He don't play Pom-poucet; I was wrong. It's too heavy a part, and he's too busy looking after the piece. But Joe Mortimer was splendid; I nearly died of laughing when he fell down and lost his wig in the middle of the stage. And Frank Bret looked such a swell, and he got an encore for the song, "Oh, Certainly I Love Clairette." And he and Miss Leslie got another for the duet.

To-morrow they play the _Cloches_.'

'But now you've seen so much of the theatre I hope you'll be able to do a little overtime with me. I've promised to let Mrs. Barnes have her dress by to-morrow morning.'

'I'm afraid I shan't be able to stay after six o'clock.'

'But surely if they're doing the same play you don't want to see it again?'