Sparrows Part 99

"If I were to give you a list of even the few things I've read about, the awful, cruel, blood-thirsty, wicked doings, it would make your blood boil at the injustice, the wantonness of it all. Read how the Spaniards treated the Netherlanders once upon a time, the internal history of Russia, the story of Red Rubber, loads of things, and over and over again you'd ask, 'What was G.o.d doing to allow such unnecessary torture?'"

Miss Toombs paused for breath. Seeing Mavis looking at her with open-mouthed astonishment, she said:

"Have I astonished you?"

"You have."

"Haven't you heard anyone else talk like that?"

"What I was thinking of was, that you, of all people, should preach revolt against accepted ideas. I always thought you so straitlaced."

"Never mind about me."

"But I do. If you believe all you say, why do you go to church and all that?"

"What does it matter to anyone what an ugly person like me thinks or does?"

"Anyway, you're quite interesting to me."

"Really: really interesting?" asked Miss Toombs, with an inflection of genuine surprise in her voice.

"Why should I say so if I didn't think so?"

A flush of pleasure overspread the plain woman's face as she said:

"I believe you're speaking the truth. If ever I play the hypocrite, it's because I'm a hopeless coward."

"Really!" laughed Mavis, who was beginning to recover her spirits.

"Although I believe my cowardice is justified," declared Miss Toombs.

"I haven't a friend or relation in the world. If I were to get ill, or lose my job to-morrow, I've no one to turn to. I've a bad circulation and get indigestion whenever I eat meat. I've only one pleasure in life, and I do all I know to keep my job so that I can indulge in it."

"What's that?"

"You'll laugh when I tell you."

"Nothing that gives a human being innocent pleasure can be ridiculous,"

remarked Mavis.

"My happiness comes in winter," declared Miss Toombs. "I love nothing better than to go home and have tea and hot b.u.t.tered toast before the blazing fire in my bed-sitting room. Then, about seven, I make up the fire and go to bed with my book and hot-water bottles. It's stuffy, but it's my idea of heaven."

Mavis did not offer any comment.

"Now laugh at me," said Miss Toombs.

Instead of doing any such thing, Mavis bent over to kiss Miss Toombs's cheek.

"No one's ever wanted to kiss me before," complained Miss Toombs.

"Because you've never let anyone know you as you really are," rejoined Mavis.

"Now we've talked quite enough about me. Let's hear a little more about yourself."

"My history is written in this room."

"Don't talk rot. I suppose it all happened when you went away for your holidays last year?"

"You didn't think--"

"No. I didn't think you had the pluck."

"It doesn't require much of that."

"Doesn't it? There are loads of girls, nice girls too, who'd do as you've done to-morrow if they only dared," declared Miss Toombs. "And why not?" she added defiantly.

"You take my breath away," laughed Mavis.

"Don't laugh, dear. It's much too serious to laugh at," remonstrated Miss Toombs. "We're here for such a short time, and so much of that is taken up with youth and age and illness and work that it's our duty to get as much happiness as we can. And if two people love each other--"

"The woman can be brought down to this."

"And wasn't it worth it?" cried Miss Toombs hotly.

"Worth it!" echoed Mavis.

"Didn't you have a lovely time when you were away?"

"Heavenly!"

"Didn't he kiss your hands and feet and hair and tell you you were the most beautiful woman in the whole world, as they do in books?"

Mavis nodded.

"And didn't he hold you to his heart all the night through, and didn't you think you were in heaven? No--no, don't tell me. It would make me miserable and jealous for weeks."

"Why should it?"

"Who's ever wanted to love and kiss my feet and hands? But there it is--you're a pretty girl, and all that, but you can't have everything in this world. You've had to pay one of the chief penalties for your attractiveness."

Just then Mavis's baby began to cry.

"It's my hard knee," remarked Miss Toombs ruefully. "They always cry when I nurse them."

"I think he's hungry," remarked Mavis.

"Then give the boy his supper. Don't mind me."

Mavis busied herself with the preparations for sterilising the milk, but the boy cried so l.u.s.tily that, to quiet him, Mavis blushingly undid her bodice to put the nipple of her firm, white breast in his mouth.