Miss Million's Maid Part 57

"But, as I was saying, while I'm single I can go about as I choose, n.o.body saying a word to me. And n.o.body can twit me with being an old maid, neither, for when a lady's got money there's no such thing! So there's one reason gone why she should worry to get married. After all, what does a gel get married for, mostly?"

I waited expectantly.

"Home of her own," went on Miss Million oracularly. "And I can get that any day of the week. Two or three I can get. I've been looking at some o' these ill.u.s.trated ad-verts in the papers.

"And, Smith, d'you know there's a place down in Wales that u'd suit me down to the ground if I want a bit of a change, furnished and all. I always liked the idea of Wales. I'll ask Hiram's advice about that house."

This reminded me of another young man who had once hoped to have his advice asked for on subjects of this nature by the little heiress before me. Poor Mr. Burke, once hero-worshipped by this funny little Dollar Princess!

I couldn't understand her.

I had to remind her gently: "It isn't only a home of her own, surely, that a girl's thinking of when she gets married. I--I never thought you thought so, either, Miss Million. What about--what about being in love with the man?"

Hereupon my young mistress, sitting there on the corner of the pink hotel couch, proceeded to give me some (changed) views of her own on the subject of love.

"It's all very well, but love is not what it's cracked up to be in those tales out of the Celandine novelettes that I used ter be so fonder readin'," she said decidedly. "The fack is, I've had some. Look how gone I was on that Mr. Burke. Fair sloppin' over with love, as they call it."

"Miss Million, dear, do try not to talk quite so--err--quite like that,"

I ventured mildly. But my mistress was no longer to be guided by what I thought suitable or unsuitable expressions to come from the mouth of a young lady of fortune.

"Hiram thinks I talk lovely, and what's good enough for him ought to be good enough for the rest of the people I'm likely to meet, so I'm not goin' to break my neck no more trying to talk like your Aunt Nasturtium," announced Million defiantly. "I'm goin' to talk straight, the way it comes natchrul to me. Now about this love. As I say, I been let down once with it. And once bit, twice shy. I'm not goin' to let myself get buzzed, as Vi calls it, no second time. S'no use any more good-lookin' young gentlemanly men comin' round to try and get on the soft side of Nellie Million, and fillin' her up with a lot of Tales of Hoffmann jest because she happens to have a bit of her own. That was a shock to me, Smith, that was. That about the Honourable Mr. Burke being such a liar. It's a good job, in a way. Because it's put me off love for life!"

"I wonder," I said, standing there, and looking thoughtfully down at the well-dressed, st.u.r.dy little figure with the black hair that I can still see looking neat and glossy under a cap. "If it has done that, it may, as you say, be 'a good job.' But it might be--a great pity!"

"Ar, go on. Don't you believe that, Miss Kid," returned my mistress with a funny little echo of England's Premier Comedienne in her voice.

"Love's all right for anybody that hasn't got anything else to hope for, and that's about as much as you can say for it. But what about yourself, Smith?"

Here my mistress's bright grey eyes gave me a very straight glance.

"What about our young Mr. Brace, him from the bank? I sor him in court, and it wasn't at me he was looking at all. Then there was at lunch to-day. Several times Vi has pa.s.sed the remark about him and you being very thick----"

I repressed a wish to check this expression. After all, if "Hiram"

considers it lovely, and it comes "natchrul" to Miss Million, why should I worry any longer about her flowers of speech?

She then put a "straight" question:

"Has that young gentleman bin makin' up to you?"

I answered her in a "straight" manner:

"Yes. He has. He's asked me to marry him."

"Oh! Good for you!" exclaimed my young mistress delightedly. "Marry you, already? That would be a step up for you, wouldn't it, Smith? From being my maid to being a bank manager's wife! Something like, that is. I always liked him--always thought him a very nice, gentlemanly, superior sort of looking young feller. And so did you, Miss Beat--so did you, Smith! In the old days at Putney, with his garden-hose and all!

(Artful!) Well! Of course, it'll be a bit strange for me at first, having to have somebody fresh to do for me, after getting accustomed to you. But I've got my clothes now; and I'm sort of used to things. I shan't feel quite so lorst as I should at first. I shall be sorry to say good-bye to you, o' course. You and me have always. .h.i.t it, Smith, some'ow, whether when you was the maid--or I was," concluded my young mistress simply, looking up at me with genuine affection in her eyes.

"And I shall always remember you, wherever you are, and I hope you'll come round and have a cup o' tea sometimes when you're Mrs. Brace, and I hope you'll accept that two quarters' salary from me now as a wedding present--not that I won't try and find you some sort of a little resermenter when it comes to The Day! How soon 'ull him and you be getting married, do you suppose?"

She was at the end of this long and kind-hearted speech before I could find breath to interrupt.

I said hastily: "Oh, but now you're making the same mistake that I did about you! I may not have to leave you at all, Miss Million. I don't know if I shall ever be 'Mrs. Brace.' I don't know if I've made up my mind to marry him--I told him I must think it over----"

"Better 'ook him while you can, dear. Young men are fearful ones for chopping and changing, once you leave 'em to go off the coil, so ter speak," Miss Million advised me in a friendly, motherly little tone.

"Not too much of your thinkin' it over. You're suited; well, you tell him so!"

I said nothing. I didn't know what to say.

"Or," pursued Miss Million, "if you reely think he's the sort to think more of you for 'keeping him guessing,' as Hiram calls it, well, I tell you what. Me and you'll go down to my country house----"

"Where?" I asked, astounded. I had forgotten Miss Million's new plan of campaign. "Where will we go?"

"Why, to this Pla.s.s or Pla.r.s.e, or whatever they call it, in Wales, that I'm thinking of takin'," said Miss Million, rustling the glossy leaves of the _Country Life_ with the advertis.e.m.e.nt that had taken her fancy.

"We'll go there, Smith, and chance the ducks. If the perlice want us again----"

She gave a little shiver.

"Well, they can come and fetch us from there, same as they did from the 'Refuge.' Any'ow, we'll have a bit of peace and quiet there first. I always did like the idear of scenery, and there's lots of that there.

And we'll have down people to stay with us, so as to liven things up a bit," enlarged Miss Million, wetting her finger to turn over the pages of the magazine. "Vi Va.s.sity we'll have; must have her, after her bein'

so decent to us. A friend in need, that's what I call her. And Mrs.

Flukes----" (This is the ventriloquist's wife.)

"We'll have her," planned the future mistress of the country house.

"Give her a bit of a change, and get her strength up again after that baby. We'll take them down with us after we've been at the 'Refuge' for a few days; and the nurse. And then we'll ask this Mr. Brace of yours to come down, Smith, after a week or so. Y'orter be able to give him word, one way or another, after all that time, didn't you?"

"Yes--I ought," I said.

"Well, there you are," said Miss Million complacently, getting up from the couch. "I'll dress for late dinner now. Did you think to have me cerise ironed out a bit?"

"No; and I'm afraid it's too crushed for you to wear," I said, with a great show of penitence. "I'm afraid I shall have to dress you in the cream, instead." She was ready dressed in the cream-coloured frock, with the little golden shoes; she was just going down to join her cousin in the big dining-room when she turned with a last word to put in on Mr.

Brace's account.

She said: "Your Auntie would be pleased about it now."

I said: "I don't suppose I shall hear anything more about what my aunt would like me to do."

I was wrong.

For by this morning's post there has arrived a note from my aunt at Putney. Not for me. For my mistress!

The note is short enough. It is signed only "Anastasia Lovelace," and all it says is:

"Enclosed find notes to the amount of thirty pounds, being the sum advanced by you as salary to Miss Beatrice Lovelace. She will now return to Putney, bringing your receipt."

"Will," again. Will she?

And the notes!

Both Miss Million and I have been gazing in amazement upon the rustling sheaf that my mistress took out of the registered envelope.

Where, in the name of all that's unaccountable, did Aunt Anastasia "raise" all that money, and in such a short time?