A Plucky Girl Part 19

"Do not say another word now," I said. "I am sure you mean all this kindly, but please do not say any more now. I will think over what you have said."

"I will leave you then, dear," she said.

She went as far as the door; she was a very kindly little woman, she was a real lady, and she meant well, but she had hurt me so indescribably that at that moment I almost hated her. When she reached the door she turned and said--

"If ever my husband and I can help you, Miss Wickham (but we are poor people), if ever we can help you, we will be glad to do so. I know you are angry with me now, but your anger won't remain, you will see who are your true friends by-and-by."

She closed the door softly, and I heard her gentle steps going downstairs. I will frankly say that I did not go to bed for some time, that I paced indignantly up and down my room. I hated Jane, I hated Mr. Fanning, I still more cordially hated Mr. Randolph at that moment.

Mr. Fanning must go, Mr. Randolph must go. I could not allow myself to be spoken about. How intolerable of Mr. Randolph to have come as he had done, to have forced himself upon us, to have invited us to go out with him, to have----and then I stopped, and a great lump rose in my throat, and I burst into tears, for in my heart of hearts I knew well that I did not think what he did intolerable at all, that I respected him, and--but I did not dare to allow my thoughts to go any further.

I even hated myself for being good-looking, until I suddenly remembered that I had the same features as my father had. He had conquered in all the battles in which he had borne part through his life. My face must be a good one if it was like his. I would try to live up to the character which my face seemed to express, and I would immediately endeavour to get things on a different footing.

Accordingly, the next day at breakfast I studiously avoided Mr.

Randolph, and I equally studiously avoided Mr. Fanning. The consequence was that, being as it were between two fires, I had a most uncomfortable time, for Mr. Randolph showed me by certain glances which he threw in my direction that he was most anxious to consult me about something, and Mr. Fanning seemed to intercept these glances, and to make his own most unpleasant comments about them; and if Mr.

Fanning intercepted them, so did Mrs. and Miss Armstrong.

Miss Armstrong had now given up Mr. Randolph as almost hopeless with regard to a flirtation, and was turning her attention in the direction of Mr. Fanning. She talked Art _at_ Mr. Fanning a.s.siduously all during breakfast, and having learned by some accident that he was a publisher, boldly demanded from him if he would not like her to ill.u.s.trate some of his books. In reply to this he gave a profound bow, and told her, with a certain awkward jerk of his body, that he never gave orders in advance, that he never gave orders on the score of friendliness, that when it came to the relations between publisher and artist he was brutal.

"That's the word for it, Miss Armstrong," he said, "I am brutal when it comes to a bargain. I try to make the very best I can for myself. I never think of the artist at all. I want all the _ s d_ to go into my own pocket"--and here he slapped his waistcoat loudly, and uttered a harsh laugh, which showed all his broken teeth in a most disagreeable manner. Miss Armstrong and her mother seemed to think he was excellent fun, and Mrs. Armstrong said, with a quick glance first at Mr.

Randolph and then at me, that it was refreshing to hear any man so frank, and that for her part she respected people who gave themselves no h'airs.

Breakfast came to an end, and I sought Jane in her sanctum.

"Now, Jane," I said, "you must put away your accounts, you must cease to think of housekeeping. You must listen to me."

"What is it, Westenra?" she said. "Has anything vexed you?" she continued; "sit down and tell me all about it."

"Several things vex me," I answered. "Jane, we must come to an understanding."

"What about?" she asked in some alarm; "an understanding! I thought that was all arranged when our legal agreement was drawn up."

"Oh, I know nothing about lawyers nor about legal agreements," I answered; "but, Jane, there are some things I cannot put up with, and one of them is----"

"I know," she answered; "Mr. Fanning."

"He is horrible, hateful; he is going to make himself most hateful to me. Jane, dear Jane, he must go."

Jane looked puzzled and distressed. I expected her to say--

"He shall certainly go, my dear, I will tell him that his room is required, and that he must leave at the end of the week." But on the contrary she sighed. After a long pause she said--

"You want this house to be a success, I presume."

"I certainly do, but we cannot have it a success on the present arrangement. Mr. Fanning must go, and also Mr. Randolph."

"Mr. Randolph, Mr. James Randolph!" said Jane, now colouring high, and a sparkle of something, which seemed to be a curious mixture of fear and indignation, filling her eyes. "And why should he go? You do not know what you are talking about."

"I do. He must go. Ask--ask Mrs. Furlong. They talk about him here, these hateful people; they put false constructions on his kindness; I know he is kind and he is a gentleman, but he does me harm, Jane, even as much harm as that horrible Mr. Fanning."

"Now, look here, Westenra Wickham," said Jane Mullins. "Are you going to throw up the sponge, or are you not?"

"Throw up the sponge! I certainly don't mean to fail."

"You will do so if you send those two men out of the house. If you cannot hold your own, whatever men come here, you are not the girl I took you for. As to Mr. Randolph, be quite a.s.sured that he will never do anything to annoy you. If people talk let them talk. When they see nothing comes of their idle silly gossip, they will soon cease to utter it. And as to Mr. Fanning, they will equally cease to worry about him. If he pays he must stay, for as it is, it is difficult to let the first-floor rooms. People don't want to pay five guineas a week to live in Bloomsbury, and he has a small room; and it is a great relief to me that he should be here and pay so good a sum for his room. The thing must be met commercially, or I for one give it up."

"You, Jane, you! then indeed we shall be ruined."

"I don't really mean to, my dear child, I don't mean for a single moment to desert you; but I must say that if 17 Graham Square is to go on, it must go on commercial principles; and we cannot send our best boarders away. You ask me coolly, just because things are a little uncomfortable for you, you ask me to dismiss ten guineas a week, for Mr. Randolph pays five guineas for his room, and Mr. Fanning five guineas for his, and I don't know any other gentleman who would pay an equal sum, and we must have it to balance matters. What is to meet the rent, my dear? What is to meet the taxes? What is to meet the butcher's, the baker's, the grocer's, the fishmonger's bills if we dismissed our tenants. I often have a terrible fear that we were rash to take a great expensive house like this, and unless it is full from attic to drawing-room floor, we have not the slightest chance of meeting our expenses. Even then I fear!--but there I won't croak before the time; only, Westenra, you have to make up your mind. You can go away on a visit if you wish to, I do not counsel this for a moment, for I know you are a great attraction here. It is because you are pretty and wear nice dresses, and look different from the other boarders, that you attract them; and--yes, I will say it--Mr. Randolph also attracts them. They can get no small change out of Mr. James Randolph, so they need not try it on, but once for all we cannot decline the people who are willing to pay us good money, that is a foregone conclusion. Now you have got to accept the agreeables with the disagreeables, or this whole great scheme of yours will tumble about our heads like a pack of cards."

CHAPTER XIII

THE UGLY DRESS

On that very day I searched through mother's wardrobe and found a piece of brown barege. It was a harsh and by no means pretty material.

I held it up to the light, and asked her what she was going to do with it.

"Nothing," she answered, "I bought it ten years ago at a sale of remnants, and why it has stuck to me all these years is more than I can tell."

"May I have it?" was my next query.

"Certainly," replied mother, "but you surely are not going to have a dress made of that ugly thing?"

"May I have it?" I asked again.

"Yes, dear, yes."

I did not say any more with regard to the barege. I turned the conversation to indifferent matters, but when I left the room I took it with me. I made it into a parcel and took it out. I went to a little dressmaker in a street near by. I asked her if she would make the ugly brown barege into an evening dress. She measured the material, and said it was somewhat scanty.

"That does not matter," I said, "I _want_ an ugly dress--can you manage to make a really ugly dress for me out of it?"

"Well, Miss Wickham," she replied, fixing her pale brown eyes on my face, "I never do go in for making ugly dresses, it would be against my profession. You don't mean it, do you, Miss Wickham?"

"Put your best work into it," I said, suddenly changing my tone. "Make it according to your own ideas of the fashion. Picture a young girl going to a play, or a ball, in that dress, and make it according to your own ideas."

"May I trim it with golden yellow chiffon and turquoise blue silk bows?" she asked eagerly, her eyes shining.

"You may," I replied, suppressing an internal shudder. I gave her a few further directions; she named a day when I should come to be fitted, and I went home.

In less than a week's time the brown barege arrived back, ready for me to wear. It was made according to Annie Starr's ideas of a fashionable evening gown. It was the sort of garment which would have sent the d.u.c.h.ess or Lady Thesiger into fits on the spot. In the first place, the bodice was full of wrinkles, it was too wide in the waist, and too narrow across the chest, but this was a small matter to complain of.

It was the irritating air of vulgarity all over the dress which was so hard to bear. But, notwithstanding all these defects, it pleased me.

It would, I hoped, answer my purpose, and succeed in making me appear very unattractive in the eyes of Mr. Randolph.

That evening I put on the brown barege for dinner. The yellow chiffon and the turquoise blue bows were much in evidence, and I did really feel that I was a martyr when I went downstairs in that dress with its _outre_ tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs.

When I entered the drawing-room, mother glanced up at me as if she did not know me; she then started, the colour came into her face, and she motioned me imperatively to her side.