Not Like Other Girls Part 38

"Oh, just so--just so. Thank you, my dear. You have done that beautifully, I am sure. Never mind what an old woman says. When people are in trouble like that, they are often ill to live with. Magdalene has her moods; so have we all, my dear, though you are too young to know that; but no one understands her better than her old Bathsheba; that is my name, and a funny old name too, is it not?" continued Miss Mewlstone, blinking at Phillis with her little blue eyes. "The worst of having such a name is that no one will use it; even father and mother called me Barby, as Magdalene does sometimes still."

Bathsheba Mewlstone! Phillis's lip curled with suppressed amus.e.m.e.nt.

What a droll old thing she was! and yet she liked her, somehow.

"If she takes it into her head to come and see you, you will try and put up with her sharp speeches?" continued Miss Mewlstone, a little anxiously, as she tied on her bonnet. "Mr. Drummond does not understand her at all: and I will not deny that she is hard on the poor young man, and makes fun of him a bit; but, bless you, it is only her way! She torments herself and other people, just because time will not pa.s.s quickly enough and let her forget. If we had children ourselves we should understand it better, and how in Ramah there must be lamentation," finished Miss Mewlstone, with a vague and peculiar reference to the martyred innocents which was rather inexplicable to Phillis, as in this case there was certainly no Herod, but an ordinary visitation of Providence; but then she did not know that Miss Mewlstone was often a little vague.

After this hint, Phillis was not greatly surprised when, one morning, a pair of gray ponies stopped before the Friary, and Mrs. Cheyne's tall figure came slowly up the flagged path.

It must be owned that Phillis's first feelings were not wholly pleasurable. Nan had gone out: an invalid lady staying at Seaview Cottage had sent for a dressmaker rather hurriedly, and Miss Milner had of course recommended them. Nan had gone at once, and, as Dulce looked pale, she had taken her with her for a walk. They might not be back for another hour; and a _tete-a-tete_ with Mrs. Cheyne after their last interview was rather formidable.

Dorothy preceded her with a parcel, which she deposited rather gingerly on the table. As Mrs. Cheyne entered the room she looked at Phillis in a cool, off-hand manner.

"I am come on business," she said with a little nod. "How do you do, Miss Challoner? You are looking rather pale, I think." And then her keen glance travelled round the room.

The girl flushed a little over this abruptness, but she did not lose her courage.

"Is this the dress?" she asked, opening the parcel; but her fingers would tremble a little, in spite of her will. And then, as the rich folds of the black brocade came into view, she asked, in a business-like tone, in what style Mrs. Cheyne would wish it made, and how soon she required it. To all of which Mrs. Cheyne responded in the same dry, curt manner; and then the usual process of fitting began.

Never had her task seemed so tedious and distasteful to Phillis. Even Mrs. Tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs was preferable to this: she hardly ventured to raise her eyes, for fear of meeting Mrs. Cheyne's cold, satirical glance; and yet all the time she knew she was being watched. Mrs. Cheyne's vigilant silence meant something.

If only her mother would come in! but she was sh.e.l.ling peas for Dorothy. To think Nan should have failed her on such an occasion! even Dulce would have been a comfort, though she was so easily frightened.

She started almost nervously when Mrs. Cheyne at last broke the silence:

"Yes, you are decidedly paler,--a little thinner, I think, and that after only a fortnight's work."

Phillis looked up a little indignantly at this; but she found Mrs.

Cheyne was regarding her not unkindly.

"I am well enough," she returned, rather ungraciously; "but we are not used to so much confinement and the weather is hot. We shall grow accustomed to it in time."

"You think restlessness is so easily subdued?" with a sneer.

"No; but I believe it can be controlled," replied poor Phillis, who suffered more than any one guessed from this restraint on her sweet freedom.

Mrs. Cheyne was right: even in this short time she was certainly paler and thinner.

"You mean to persevere, then, in your moral suicide?"

"We mean to persevere in our duty," corrected Phillis, as she pinned up a sleeve.

"Rather a high moral tone for a dressmaker to take: don't you think so?" returned Mrs. Cheyne, in the voice Archie hated. The woman certainly had a double nature: there was a twist in her somewhere.

This was too much for Phillis: she fired up in a moment.

"Why should not dressmakers take a high moral tone? You make me feel glad I am one when you talk like that. This is our ambition,--Nan's and mine, for Dulce is too young to think much about it,--to show by our example that there is no degradation in work. Oh, it is hard!

First Mr. Drummond comes, and talks to us as though we were doing wrong; and, then you, to cry down our honest labor, and call it suicide! Is it suicide to work with these hands, that G.o.d has made clever, for my mother?" cried Phillis; and her great gray eyes filled up with sudden tears.

Mrs. Cheyne did not look displeased at the girl's outburst. If she had led up to this point, she could not have received it more calmly.

"There, there! you need not excite yourself, child!" she said, more gently. "I only wanted to know what you would say. So Miss Mewlstone has been to you, I hear?--and Miss Middleton, too? but that's her benevolence. Of course Miss Mattie comes out of curiosity. How I do detest a fussy woman, with a tongue that chatters faster than a purling brook! What do you say? No harm in her?" for Phillis had muttered something to this effect. "Oh, that is negative praise! I like people to have a little harm in them: it is so much more amusing."

"I cannot say I am of your opinion," returned Phillis, coldly: she was rather ashamed of her fit of enthusiasm, and cross in consequence.

"My dear, I always thought Lucifer must have been rather an interesting person." Then, as Phillis looked scandalized, and drew herself up, she said, in a funny voice, "Now, don't tell your mother what I said, or she will think me an improper character; and I want to be introduced to her."

"You want to be introduced to my mother!" Phillis could hardly believe her ears. Certainly Mrs. Cheyne was a most inexplicable person.

"Dressmakers don't often have mothers, do they?" returned Mrs. Cheyne, with a laugh; "at least, they are never on view. I suppose they are in the back premises doing something?"

"Sh.e.l.ling peas, for example," replied Phillis, roused to mischief by this: "that is mother's work this morning. Dorothy is old and single-handed, and needs all the help we can give her. Oh, yes! I will take you to her at once."

"Indeed you must not, if it will inconvenience her!" returned Mrs.

Cheyne, drawing back a little at this. She was full of curiosity to see the mother of these singular girls, but she did not wish to have her illusion too roughly dispelled; and the notion of Mrs. Challoner's homely employment grated a little on the feelings of the fine lady who had never done anything useful in her life.

"Oh, nothing puts mother out!" returned Phillis, in an indifferent tone. The old spirit of fun was waking up in her, and she led the way promptly to the parlor.

"Mother, Mrs. Cheyne wishes to see you," she announced, in a most matter-of-fact voice, as though that lady were a daily visitor.

Mrs. Challoner looked up in a little surprise. One of Dorothy's rough ap.r.o.ns was tied over her nice black gown, and the yellow earthenware bowl was on her lap. Phillis took up some of the green pods, and began playing with them.

"Will you excuse my rising?--you see my employment," observed Mrs.

Challoner, with a smile that was almost as charming as Nan's; and she held out a white soft hand to her visitor.

The perfect ease of her manner, the absence of all flurry, produced an instant effect on Mrs. Cheyne. For a moment she stood as though at a loss to explain her intrusion; but the next minute one of her rare sunshiny smiles crossed her face:

"I must seem impertinent; but your daughters have interested me so much that I was anxious to see their mother. But I ought to apologize for disturbing you so early."

"Not at all; all hours are the same to me. We are always glad to see our friends: are we not, Phillis? My dear, I wish you would carry these away to Dorothy and ask her to finish them."

"Oh, no! pray do nothing of the kind," returned Mrs. Cheyne, eagerly.

"You must not punish me in this way. Let me help you. Indeed, I am sure I can, if I only tried." And, to Phillis's intense amus.e.m.e.nt, Mrs. Cheyne drew off her delicate French gloves, and in another moment both ladies were seated close together, sh.e.l.ling peas into the same pan, and talking as though they had known each other for years.

"Oh, it was too delicious!" exclaimed Phillis, when she had retailed this interview for Nan's and Dulce's benefit. "I knew mother would behave beautifully. If I had taken the Princess of Wales in to see her, she would not have had a word of apology for her ap.r.o.n, though it was a horrid coa.r.s.e thing of Dorothy's. She would just have smiled at her, as she did at Mrs. Cheyne. Mother's behavior is always lovely."

"Darling old mammie!" put in Dulce, rapturously, at this point.

"I made some excuse and left them together, because I could see Mrs.

Cheyne was dying to get rid of me; and I'm always amiable, and like to please people. Oh, it was the funniest sight, I a.s.sure you!--Mrs.

Cheyne with her long fingers blazing with diamond rings, and the peas rolling down her silk dress; and mother just going on with her business in her quiet way. Oh, I had such a laugh when I was back in the work-room!"

It cost Phillis some trouble to be properly demure when Mrs. Cheyne came into the work-room some time afterwards in search of her. Perhaps her mischievous eyes betrayed her, for Mrs. Cheyne shook her head at her in pretended rebuke:

"Ah, I see; you will persist in treating things like a comedy. Well, that is better than putting on tragedy airs and making yourselves miserable. Now I have seen your mother, I am not quite so puzzled."

"Indeed!" and Phillis fixed her eyes innocently on Mrs. Cheyne's face.

"No; but I am not going to make you vain by telling you what I think of her: indiscriminate praise is not wholesome. Now, when are you coming to see me?--that is the point in question."

"Dorothy will bring home your dress on Sat.u.r.day," replied Phillis, a little dryly. "If it requires alteration, perhaps you will let me know, and of course I will come up to the White House at any time."