A Plucky Girl

"What is the matter?" I said. "Do you want to say anything special?"

"I do, my dear Miss Wickham," replied the lady. "I have come for the purpose."

"Yes?" I said in a slight tone of query.

"How did that objectionable man, Mr. Fanning, get here?"

"I suppose he came because he wanted to," I replied. "The house is open to any one who will pay, and who bears a respectable character."

"The house ought only to be open to those who bear agreeable characters, and know how to act as gentlemen," replied Mrs. Furlong stoutly. "Now my husband and I dislike that person extremely, but after all the fact of whether we like him or not matters but little; it is because he tries to annoy you that we are really concerned. Would you not rather at dinner come and sit at our end of the table? It always seems very hard to us that you should sit with your housekeeper, Miss Mullins, and amongst the least nice members of the establishment."

"But you must please remember," I said, "that Jane is not a housekeeper, she is one of the partners in this concern. It is kind of you to think of me, but I cannot do what you propose. I must help Jane in every way in my power. You do not know how good and true she is, and how little I really do for her. If I sat with you we should have a regular clique in the place, and by degrees the boarders would go, at least those boarders who were not included in our set."

"I see," answered Mrs. Furlong. "It is all most unsuitable," she added, and she stared straight before her. After a moment's pause she looked at me again.

"It is the queerest arrangement I ever heard of in all my life. Don't you think you are peculiarly unsuited to your present life?"

"I don't know; I hope not."

"You are a lady."

"That is my birthright. The boarding-house cannot deprive me of it," I answered.

"Oh, I know all that, but the life is not suitable. You will find it less and less suitable as time goes on. At present you have got your mother to protect you, but – "

"What do you mean by at present I have got my mother?" I cried. "My mother is young, comparatively young; she is not more than three and forty. What do you mean, Mrs. Furlong?"

"Oh nothing, dear," she said, colouring, "nothing at all. One always has, you know, in this uncertain world to contemplate the possibility of loss, but don't think again of what I have said. The fact is the life is quite as unsuitable for her as for you. You are put in a position which you cannot possibly maintain, my dear Miss Wickham. That awful man felt to-night that he had a right to pay you disagreeable attentions. Now is this thing to go on? I assure you Captain Furlong and I were quite distressed when we saw how he behaved to you when you were at the piano."

The tears rushed to my eyes.

"It is kind of you to sympathise with me," I said. "I am going to speak to Jane Mullins to-morrow. If possible Mr. Fanning must go."

"But there is another thing," began Mrs. Furlong. She paused, and I saw that she was about to say something, even more disagreeable than anything she had yet uttered.

"You have your mother, of course," she continued slowly, "but you yourself are very young, and – now I don't want to compliment you – but you are much nicer looking than many girls; you have quite a different air and appearance from any other girl in this house. Oh, I hate interfering, but your mother, Miss Wickham, must be a particularly innocent woman."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I mean Mr. Randolph," she answered, and she raised her eyes and fixed them on my face.

"Mr. Randolph?" I said. "Surely you must admit that he at least is a gentleman?"

"He is not only a gentleman, but he is more highly born and has more money than any one else in the house; he does not belong to the set who fill this house at all. Why does he come? This is no place for him. In one way it is quite as unsuitable to have him here as it is to have a man like Mr. Fanning here. Those two men represent opposite extremes. People will talk."

"What about?" I asked.

"About you, dear."

"They cannot. I will not permit it." Then I said abruptly, standing up in my excitement, "After all, I don't care whether they talk or not; I was prepared for misunderstandings when I came here. Mother likes Mr. Randolph; he at least shall stay."

"But, my child, it is not nice to be talked about; it is never nice for a young girl. People like my husband and myself quite understand. We know well that you and your mother are at present out of your right position, but others will not be so considerate. Mr. Randolph is always here."

"You think," I said, stammering, "that he comes because – "

She smiled, got up and kissed me.

"What else could he come for, Westenra?" she said softly.

"He comes because – because of mother," I answered. "He likes her; he told me so. He is anxious about her, for he thinks she misses her old life very much; he wants to make things easier for her. He is a very good man, and I respect him. I don't mind what any one says, I know in my heart he comes here because – "

"No, you do not," said Mrs. Furlong, and she looked me full in the eyes, and I found myself colouring and stammering.

"Believe me I have not intruded upon you this evening without cause," said the little woman. "I talked the matter over with my husband. I would rather Mr. Fanning were here than Mr. Randolph. Mr. Fanning is impossible, Mr. Randolph is not. He does not come here on account of your mother, he comes here because he likes you. I am very sorry; I felt I must speak; my husband agrees with me."

"Do not say another word now," I said. "I am sure you mean all this kindly, but please do not say any more now. I will think over what you have said."

"I will leave you then, dear," she said.

She went as far as the door; she was a very kindly little woman, she was a real lady, and she meant well, but she had hurt me so indescribably that at that moment I almost hated her. When she reached the door she turned and said —

"If ever my husband and I can help you, Miss Wickham (but we are poor people), if ever we can help you, we will be glad to do so. I know you are angry with me now, but your anger won't remain, you will see who are your true friends by-and-by."

She closed the door softly, and I heard her gentle steps going downstairs. I will frankly say that I did not go to bed for some time, that I paced indignantly up and down my room. I hated Jane, I hated Mr. Fanning, I still more cordially hated Mr. Randolph at that moment. Mr. Fanning must go, Mr. Randolph must go. I could not allow myself to be spoken about. How intolerable of Mr. Randolph to have come as he had done, to have forced himself upon us, to have invited us to go out with him, to have – and then I stopped, and a great lump rose in my throat, and I burst into tears, for in my heart of hearts I knew well that I did not think what he did intolerable at all, that I respected him, and – but I did not dare to allow my thoughts to go any further.

I even hated myself for being good-looking, until I suddenly remembered that I had the same features as my father had. He had conquered in all the battles in which he had borne part through his life. My face must be a good one if it was like his. I would try to live up to the character which my face seemed to express, and I would immediately endeavour to get things on a different footing.

Accordingly, the next day at breakfast I studiously avoided Mr. Randolph, and I equally studiously avoided Mr. Fanning. The consequence was that, being as it were between two fires, I had a most uncomfortable time, for Mr. Randolph showed me by certain glances which he threw in my direction that he was most anxious to consult me about something, and Mr. Fanning seemed to intercept these glances, and to make his own most unpleasant comments about them; and if Mr. Fanning intercepted them, so did Mrs. and Miss Armstrong.

Miss Armstrong had now given up Mr. Randolph as almost hopeless with regard to a flirtation, and was turning her attention in the direction of Mr. Fanning. She talked Art at Mr. Fanning assiduously all during breakfast, and having learned by some accident that he was a publisher, boldly demanded from him if he would not like her to illustrate some of his books. In reply to this he gave a profound bow, and told her, with a certain awkward jerk of his body, that he never gave orders in advance, that he never gave orders on the score of friendliness, that when it came to the relations between publisher and artist he was brutal.

"That's the word for it, Miss Armstrong," he said, "I am brutal when it comes to a bargain. I try to make the very best I can for myself. I never think of the artist at all. I want all the £ s d to go into my own pocket" – and here he slapped his waistcoat loudly, and uttered a harsh laugh, which showed all his broken teeth in a most disagreeable manner. Miss Armstrong and her mother seemed to think he was excellent fun, and Mrs. Armstrong said, with a quick glance first at Mr. Randolph and then at me, that it was refreshing to hear any man so frank, and that for her part she respected people who gave themselves no h'airs.

Breakfast came to an end, and I sought Jane in her sanctum.

"Now, Jane," I said, "you must put away your accounts, you must cease to think of housekeeping. You must listen to me."

"What is it, Westenra?" she said. "Has anything vexed you?" she continued; "sit down and tell me all about it."

"Several things vex me," I answered. "Jane, we must come to an understanding."

"What about?" she asked in some alarm; "an understanding! I thought that was all arranged when our legal agreement was drawn up."

"Oh, I know nothing about lawyers nor about legal agreements," I answered; "but, Jane, there are some things I cannot put up with, and one of them is – "

"I know," she answered; "Mr. Fanning."

"He is horrible, hateful; he is going to make himself most hateful to me. Jane, dear Jane, he must go."