A Plucky Girl

"There is a secret about that," I exclaimed, "and I think you ought to tell us."

Jane looked at me out of her honest twinkling eyes, and her resolute mouth shut into a perfectly straight line; then nodding her head she said —

"We cannot refuse this gentleman; his name is Randolph. He signs himself James Randolph, and specially mentions the friend who lent the money, so I do not see, as the house is almost empty at present, how we can keep him out. I should say he must be a nice man from the way he writes. You have no objection to his coming, have you, Mrs. Wickham?"

Still mother made no answer, but I saw a hot spot coming into both her cheeks.

"Didn't I tell you, Westenra," she said after a pause, "that matters might be made very disagreeable and complicated? To be frank with you, Miss Mullins," she continued, "I would much rather have only married couples and ladies in the house."

"Then, my dear madam, we had better close within the week," said Jane Mullins in a voice of some indignation. "You ought to have arranged for this at the time, and if you had mentioned your views I would certainly not have joined partnership with you. What we want are ladies and gentlemen, and so many of them that the commonplace and the vulgar will not be able to come, because there will not be room to receive them. As to this gentleman, he has something to do in the city, and likes to live in Bloomsbury, as he considers it the most healthy part of London." Here Miss Mullins began to talk very vigorously, and the tip of her nose became suspiciously red once more.

"I propose," she continued, "as he is quite indifferent to what he pays, charging Mr. Randolph five guineas a week, and giving him the small bedroom on the drawing-room floor. It is a little room, but nicely furnished. He will be a great acquisition."

"May I see his letter?" asked mother.

"I am sorry, Madam, but I would rather no one saw it. It mentions my friend, and of course my friend would not like his name to get out, so I must keep the letter private, but if Mr. Randolph makes himself in any way disagreeable to you ladies I am sure he will go immediately, but my impression is that you will find him a great acquisition. I will write to him to-night, and say that he can have the accommodation he requires, and ask him to name the day when he will arrive."

After this we had a great deal of talk on other matters, and finally Jane retired to her premises, and mother and I sat together in the beautiful drawing-room.

"Well, Westenra," said mother, "it is done. What do you think of it?"

"It has only begun, mother dear. Up to the present I am charmed. What a treasure we have secured in Jane."

"It is all very queer," said mother. "Why would not she show us Mr., Mr. – what was his name, Westenra?"

"Randolph," I interrupted.

"Why would she not show us Mr. Randolph's letter? I must say frankly that I do not like it. The fact is, West, we are not in the position we were in at Sumner Place, and we must be exceedingly circumspect. You, for instance, must be distant and cold to all the men who come here. You must be careful not to allow any one to take liberties with you. Ah, my child, did we do wrong to come? Did we do wrong? It is terrible for me to feel that you are in such an equivocal position."

"Oh but, mother, I am not. I assure you I can look after myself; and then I have you with me, and Jane Mullins is such a sturdy little body. I am sure she will guide our ship, our new, delightful ship, with a flowing sail into a prosperous harbour; and I cannot see, mother, why we should not receive a man who is a real gentleman. It is the men who are not gentlemen who will be difficult to deal with. Mr. Randolph will probably be a great help to us, and for my part I am glad he is coming."

"Things are exactly as I feared," said mother, and I saw her anxious eyes look across the room as though she were gazing at a vision which gave her the greatest disquietude.

Early the next day I hung father's picture in such a position in the drawing-room that mother could have the eyes following her wherever she turned. She often said that she was never comfortable, nor quite at home, unless under the gaze of those eyes, and we made up our minds not to mind the fact of our new boarders asking questions about the picture, for we were intensely proud of my father, and felt that we could say in a few dignified words all that was necessary, and that my dear father would in a measure protect us in our new career.

Early the next week the first boarders arrived. Three or four families came the same day. Jane said that that was best. Jane was the one who received them. She went into the hall and welcomed them in her brusque tone and took them immediately to their rooms, in each of which printed rules of the establishment were pinned up, and mother and I did not appear until just before dinner, when the different boarders had assembled in the drawing-room.

"Dress for dinner and make yourself look as nice as you possibly can," was Jane's parting shot to me, and I took her advice in my own way.

CHAPTER VIII

THE FLOUR IN THE CAKE

"Put on the least becoming dress you have got, Westenra," said mother.

"And what is that?" I asked, pausing with my hand on the handle of mother's door.

"Well," said my mother, considering, "it is a little difficult, for all your dresses are perfectly sweet; but I think if there is one that suits you rather less than another it is that cloudy blue with the silver gauze over it."

"O mother! that is a great deal too dressy," I exclaimed.

"Well, there is the pale primrose."

"Too dressy again."

"One of your many white dresses – but then you look exquisite in white, darling."

"You had better leave it to me, mother," I said. "I promise to make myself look as plain and uninteresting and unpretentious as possible." And then I shut the door quickly and left her.

The stepping down had been exciting, but the first firm footfall on our new terra firma was more exciting still. The boarders and I were to meet at dinner. For the first time I was to be known to the world as Miss Wickham, who kept a boarding-house in company with her mother and a certain Miss Jane Mullins. It was not a high position according to that set in which I was born. But never mind. Just because my father had won the Victoria Cross would his daughter think nothing degrading which meant an honourable and honest livelihood. So I hastily donned a black net dress which was not too fashionable, and without any ornament whatsoever, not even a string of pearls round my neck, ran downstairs. But the dress was low and the sleeves were short, and I could not keep the crimson of excitement out of my cheeks, nor the fire of excitement out of my eyes. I ran into the drawing-room, exclaiming "Mother! mother!" and forgot for the moment that the drawing-room no longer belonged to mother and me, but was the property of our paying guests, and our house was no longer ours.

Mrs. and Miss Armstrong were standing near the hearth. Mrs. Armstrong was a thin, meagre little woman, of about forty years of age. Country was written all over her – provincial country. She had faded hair and a faded complexion, and at times, and when not greatly excited, a faded manner. When she was thinking of herself she was painfully affected; when she was not thinking of herself she was hopelessly vulgar. Her daughter was a downright buxom young person, who quite held her own. Neither Mrs. nor Miss Armstrong were in evening dress, and they stared with amazement and indignation at me. Miss Armstrong's cheeks became flushed with an ugly red, but I tripped up to them just as if there were no such thing as dress in the world, and held out my hand.

"How do you do?" I said. "I am glad to see you. Won't you both sit down? I hope you have found everything comfortable in your room."

Then, as Mrs. Armstrong still stared at me, her eyes growing big with amazement, I said in a low voice —

"My name is Wickham. I am one of the owners of this house."

"Oh, Miss Wickham," said Mrs. Armstrong, and there was a perceptible tone of relief in her voice. It did not matter how stylish Miss Wickham looked, she was still only Miss Wickham, a person of no importance whatsoever.

"Come here, Marion," said Mrs. Armstrong, relapsing at once into her commonest manner. "You must not sit too near the fire, for you will get your nose red, and that is not becoming."

Marion, however, drew nearer to the fire, and did not take the least notice of her mother's remark.

"So you keep this boarding-house," said Mrs. Armstrong, turning to me again. "Well, I am surprised. Do you mind my making a blunt remark?"

I did not answer, but I looked quietly back at her. I think something in my steady gaze disquieted her, for she uttered a nervous laugh, and then said abruptly —

"You don't look the thing, you know. You're one of the most stylish young ladies I have ever seen. Isn't she, Marion?"

"She is indeed," answered Miss Marion. "I thought she was a duchess at least when she came into the room."

"Come over here, Marion, and don't stare into the flames," was Mrs. Armstrong's next remark. "I didn't know," she added, "we were coming to a place of this kind. It is very gratifying to me. I suppose the bulk of the guests here will be quite up to your standard, Miss Wickham?"

"I hope so," I replied. I was spared any more of my new boarders' intolerable remarks, for at that moment Mrs. and Captain Furlong appeared. He was a gentleman, and she was a lady. She was an everyday sort of little body to look at, but had the kindest heart in the world. She was neither young nor old, neither handsome nor the reverse. She was just like thousands of other women, but there was a rest and peace about her very refreshing. She was dressed suitably, and her husband wore semi-evening dress.

I went up to them, talked a little, and showed them some of the most comfortable chairs in the room. We chatted on everyday matters, and then mother appeared. Dear, dear mother! Had I done right to put her in this position? She looked nervous, and yet she looked stately as I had never seen her look before. I introduced her not only to the Furlongs, who knew instinctively how to treat her, but also to Mrs. and Miss Armstrong, and then to a Mr. and Mrs. Cousins who appeared, and the three Miss Frosts, and some other people, who were all taking possession of us and our house. Oh, it was confusing on that first night. I could scarcely bear it myself. I had never guessed that the very boarders would look down on us, that just because we were ladies they would consider our position an equivocal one, and treat us accordingly. I hoped that by-and-by it might be all right, but now I knew that mother and I were passing through the most trying period of this undertaking. Some of our guests were people of refinement, who would know how to act and what to do under any circumstances, and some again were of the Armstrong type, who would be pushing and disagreeable wherever they went. Marion Armstrong, in particular, intended to make her presence felt. She had a short conversation with her mother, and then pushed her way across the room to where my own mother sat, and stood before her and began to talk in a loud, brusque, penetrating voice.

"I have not been introduced to you, Madam; my name is Marion Armstrong. I have come up to London to study Art. I was rather taken aback when I saw you. You and Miss Wickham are the people who are our landladies, so to speak, and you are so different from most landladies that mother and I feel a little confused about it. Oh, thank you; you wish to know if we are comfortable. We are fairly so, all things considered; we don't mind our attic room, but it's likely we'll have to say a few words to your housekeeper – Miss Mullins, I think you call her – in the morning. You doubtless, Madam, do not care to interfere with the more sordid part of your duties."

At that moment, and before my really angry mother could answer, the door was opened, and there entered Jane Mullins in her usual sensible, downright silken gown, and a tall man. I glanced at him for a puzzled moment, feeling sure that I had seen him before, and yet not being quite certain. He had good features, was above the medium height, had a quiet manner and a sort of distant bearing which would make it impossible for any one to take liberties with him.

Miss Mullins brought him straight across the room to mother and introduced him. I caught the name, Randolph. Mother bowed, and so did he, and then he stood close to her, talking very quietly, but so effectively, that Miss Armstrong, after staring for a moment, had to vanish nonplussed into a distant corner of the drawing-room. I saw by the way that young lady's eyes blazed that she was now intensely excited. Mother and I had startled and confused her a good deal, and Mr. Randolph finished the dazzling impression her new home was giving her. Certainly she had not expected to see a person of his type here. She admired him, I saw at a glance, immensely, and now stood near her own mother, shaking her head now and then in an ominous manner, and whispering audibly.

Suddenly Jane, who was here, there, and everywhere, whisked sharply round.

"Don't you know Mr. Randolph, Miss Wickham?" she said.