The Odd Women Part 12

No one else had yet come in. Monica ate a mouthful of bread and cheese, which was in readiness on the long table down in the bas.e.m.e.nt, and at once went to bed. But no welcome drowsiness fell upon her. At half-past eleven, when two of the other five girls who slept in the room made their appearance, she was still changing uneasily from side to side.

They lit the gas (it was not turned off till midnight, after which hour the late arrivals had to use a candle of their own procuring), and began a lively conversation on the events of the day. Afraid of being obliged to talk, Monica feigned sleep.

At twelve, just as the gas went out, another pair came to repose. They had been quarrelling, and were very gloomy. After a long and acrimonious discussion in the dark as to which of them should find a candle--it ended in one of the girls who was in bed impatiently supplying a light--they began sullenly to throw off their garments.

'Is Miss Madden awake?' said one of them, looking in Monica's direction.

There was no reply.

'She's picked up some feller to-day,' continued the speaker, lowering her voice, and glancing round at her companions with a grin. 'Or else she's had him all along--I shouldn't wonder.'

Heads were put forward eagerly, and inquiries whispered.

'He's oldish, I should say. I caught sight of them just as they was going off in a boat from Battersea Park, but I couldn't see his face very well. He looked rather like Mr. Thomas.'

Mr. Thomas was a member of the drapery firm, a man of fifty, ugly and austere. At this description the listeners giggled and uttered exclamations.

'Was he a swell?' asked one.

'Shouldn't wonder if he was. You can trust Miss M. to keep her eyes open. She's one of the sly and quiet 'uns.'

'Oh, is she?' murmured another enviously. 'She's just one of those as gets made a fool of--that's _my_ opinion.'

The point was argued for some minutes. It led to talk about Miss Eade, who was treated with frank contempt because of her ill-disguised pursuit of a mere counter-man. These other damsels had, at present, more exalted views, for they were all younger than Miss Eade.

Just before one o'clock, when silence had reigned for a quarter of an hour, there entered with much bustle the last occupant of the bedroom.

She was a young woman with a morally unenviable reputation, though some of her colleagues certainly envied her. Money came to her with remarkable readiness whenever she had need of it. As usual, she began to talk very loud, at first with innocent vulgarity; exciting a little laughter, she became anecdotic and very scandalous. It took her a long time to disrobe, and when the candle was out, she still had her richest story to relate--of point so Rabelaisian that one or two voices made themselves heard in serious protest. The gifted anecdotist replied with a long laugh, then cried, 'Good-night, young ladies!' and sank peacefully to slumber.

As for Monica, she saw the white dawn peep at the window, and closed her tear-stained eyes only when the life of a new week had begun noisily in Walworth Road.

CHAPTER VI

A CAMP OF THE RESERVE

In consequence of letters exchanged during the week, next Sunday brought the three Miss Maddens to Queen's Road to lunch with Miss Barfoot. Alice had recovered from her cold, but was still ailing, and took rather a gloomy view of the situation she had lately reviewed with such courage. Virginia maintained her enthusiastic faith in Miss Nunn, and was prepared to reverence Miss Barfoot with hardly less fervour.

Both of them found it difficult to understand their young sister, who, in her letters, had betrayed distaste for the change of career proposed to her. They were received with the utmost kindness, and all greatly enjoyed their afternoon, for not even Monica's prejudice against a house, which in her own mind she had stigmatized as 'an old-maid factory,' could resist the charm of the hostess.

Though Miss Barfoot had something less than a woman's average stature, the note of her presence was personal dignity. She was handsome, and her carriage occasionally betrayed a consciousness of the fact.

According to circ.u.mstances, she bore herself as the lady of aristocratic tastes, as a genial woman of the world, or as a fervid prophetess of female emanc.i.p.ation, and each character was supported with a spontaneity, a good-natured confidence, which inspired liking and respect. A brilliant complexion and eyes that sparkled with habitual cheerfulness gave her the benefit of doubt when her age was in question; her style of dress, gracefully ornate, would have led a stranger to presume her a wedded lady of some distinction. Yet Mary Barfoot had known many troubles, poverty among them. Her experiences and struggles bore a close resemblance to those which Rhoda Nunn had gone through, and the time of trial had lasted longer. Mental and moral stamina would have a.s.sured her against such evils of celibacy as appeared in the elder Maddens, but it was to a change of worldly fortune that she owed this revival of youthful spirit and energy in middle life.

'You and I must be friends,' she said to Monica, holding the girl's soft little hand. 'We are both black but comely.'

The compliment to herself seemed the most natural thing in the world.

Monica blushed with pleasure, and could not help laughing.

It was all but decided that Monica should become a pupil at the school in Great Portland Street. In a brief private conversation, Miss Barfoot offered to lend her the money that might be needful.

'Nothing but a business transaction, Miss Madden. You can give me security; you will repay me at your convenience. If, in the end, this occupation doesn't please you, you will at all events have regained health. It is clear to me that you mustn't go on in that dreadful place you described to Miss Nunn.'

The visitors took their leave at about five o'clock.

'Poor things! Poor things!' sighed Miss Barfoot, when she was alone with her friend. 'What can we possibly do for the older ones?'

'They are excellent creatures,' said Rhoda; 'kind, innocent women; but useful for nothing except what they have done all their lives. The eldest can't teach seriously, but she can keep young children out of mischief and give them a nice way of speaking. Her health is breaking down, you can see.'

'Poor woman! One of the saddest types.'

'Decidedly. Virginia isn't quite so depressng--but how childish!'

'They all strike me as childish. Monica is a dear little girl; it seemed a great absurdity to talk to her about business. Of course she must find a husband.'

'I suppose so.'

Rhoda's tone of slighting concession amused her companion.

'My dear, after all we don't desire the end of the race.'

'No, I suppose not,' Rhoda admitted with a laugh.

'A word of caution. Your zeal is eating you up. At this rate, you will hinder our purpose. We have no mission to prevent girls from marrying suitably--only to see that those who can't shall have a means of living with some satisfaction.'

'What chance is there that this girl will marry suitably?'

'Oh, who knows? At all events, there will be more likelihood of it if she comes into our sphere.'

'Really? Do you know any man that would dream of marrying her?'

'Perhaps not, at present.'

It was clear that Miss Barfoot stood in some danger of becoming subordinate to her more vehement friend. Her little body, for all its natural dignity, put her at a disadvantage in the presence of Rhoda, who towered above her with rather imperious stateliness. Her suavity was no match for Rhoda's vigorous abruptness. But the two were very fond of each other, and by this time thought themselves able safely to dispense with the forms at first imposed by their mutual relations.

'If she marry at all,' declared Miss Nunn, 'she will marry badly. The family is branded. They belong to the cla.s.s we know so well--with no social position, and unable to win an individual one. I must find a name for that ragged regiment.'

Miss Barfoot regarded her friend thoughtfully.

'Rhoda, what comfort have you for the poor in spirit?'

'None whatever, I'm afraid. My mission is not to them.'

After a pause, she added,--

'They have their religious faith, I suppose; and it's answerable for a good deal.'

'It would be a terrible responsibility to rob them of it,' remarked the elder woman gravely.

Rhoda made a gesture of impatience.