"Hello, dad!"
"Hello, my son! Tha's let on me!"
The two shook hands, and William presented the lady. She gave the same smile that showed her teeth.
"How do you do, Mr. Morel?"
Morel bowed obsequiously.
"I'm very well, and I hope so are you. You must make yourselfvery welcome."
"Oh, thank you," she replied, rather amused.
"You will like to go upstairs," said Mrs. Morel.
"If you don't mind; but not if it is any trouble to you."
"It is no trouble. Annie will take you. Walter, carry upthis box."
"And don't be an hour dressing yourself up," said Williamto his betrothed.
Annie took a brass candlestick, and, too shy almost to speak,preceded the young lady to the front bedroom, which Mr. and Mrs. Morelhad vacated for her. It, too, was small and cold by candlelight. The colliers' wives only lit fires in bedrooms in case of extreme illness.
"Shall I unstrap the box?" asked Annie.
"Oh, thank you very much!"
Annie played the part of maid, then went downstairs for hot water.
"I think she's rather tired, mother," said William. "It's a beastly journey, and we had such a rush."
"Is there anything I can give her?" asked Mrs. Morel.
"Oh no, she'll be all right."
But there was a chill in the atmosphere. After half an hourMiss Western came down, having put on a purplish-coloured dress,very fine for the collier's kitchen.
"I told you you'd no need to change," said William to her.
"Oh, Chubby!" Then she turned with that sweetish smileto Mrs. Morel. "Don't you think he's always grumbling, Mrs. Morel?"
"Is he?" said Mrs. Morel. "That's not very nice of him."
"It isn't, really!"
"You are cold," said the mother. "Won't you come near the fire?"
Morel jumped out of his armchair.
"Come and sit you here!" he cried. "Come and sit you here!"
"No, dad, keep your own chair. Sit on the sofa, Gyp," said William.
"No, no!" cried Morel. "This cheer's warmest. Come and sit here,Miss Wesson."
"Thank you so much," said the girl, seating herselfin the collier's armchair, the place of honour. She shivered,feeling the warmth of the kitchen penetrate her.
"Fetch me a hanky, Chubby dear!" she said, putting up her mouthto him, and using the same intimate tone as if they were alone;which made the rest of the family feel as if they ought not tobe present. The young lady evidently did not realise them as people: they were creatures to her for the present. William winced.
In such a household, in Streatham, Miss Western would have beena lady condescending to her inferiors. These people were to her,certainly clownish--in short, the working classes. How was sheto adjust herself?
"I'll go," said Annie.
Miss Western took no notice, as if a servant had spoken. But when the girl came downstairs again with the handkerchief,she said: "Oh, thank you!" in a gracious way.
She sat and talked about the dinner on the train, which had beenso poor; about London, about dances. She was really very nervous,and chattered from fear. Morel sat all the time smoking his thicktwist tobacco, watching her, and listening to her glib London speech,as he puffed. Mrs. Morel, dressed up in her best black silk blouse,answered quietly and rather briefly. The three children satround in silence and admiration. Miss Western was the princess. Everything of the best was got out for her: the best cups,the best spoons, the best table cloth, the best coffee-jug. Thechildren thought she must find it quite grand. She felt strange,not able to realise the people, not knowing how to treat them. William joked, and was slightly uncomfortable.
At about ten o'clock he said to her:
"Aren't you tired, Gyp?"
"Rather, Chubby," she answered, at once in the intimate tonesand putting her head slightly on one side.
"I'll light her the candle, mother," he said.
"Very well," replied the mother.
Miss Western stood up, held out her hand to Mrs. Morel.
"Good-night, Mrs. Morel," she said.
Paul sat at the boiler, letting the water run from the tapinto a stone beer-bottle. Annie swathed the bottle in an old flannelpit-singlet, and kissed her mother good-night. She was to sharethe room with the lady, because the house was full.
"You wait a minute," said Mrs. Morel to Annie. And Annie satnursing the hot-water bottle. Miss Western shook hands all round,to everybody's discomfort, and took her departure, preceded by William. In five minutes he was downstairs again. His heart was rather sore;he did not know why. He talked very little till everybody had goneto bed, but himself and his mother. Then he stood with his legs apart,in his old attitude on the hearthrug, and said hesitatingly:
"Well, mother?"
"Well, my son?"
She sat in the rocking-chair, feeling somehow hurt and humiliated,for his sake.
"Do you like her?"
"Yes," came the slow answer.
"She's shy yet, mother. She's not used to it. It's differentfrom her aunt's house, you know."
"Of course it is, my boy; and she must find it difficult."
"She does." Then he frowned swiftly. "If only she wouldn'tput on her BLESSED airs!"
"It's only her first awkwardness, my boy. She'll be all right."
"That's it, mother," he replied gratefully. But his browwas gloomy. "You know, she's not like you, mother. She's not serious,and she can't think."
"She's young, my boy."
"Yes; and she's had no sort of show. Her mother died when she wasa child. Since then she's lived with her aunt, whom she can't bear. And her father was a rake. She's had no love."
"No! Well, you must make up to her."
"And so--you have to forgive her a lot of things."
"WHAT do you have to forgive her, my boy?"
"I dunno. When she seems shallow, you have to remember she'snever had anybody to bring her deeper side out. And she's FEARFULLYfond of me."
"Anybody can see that."
"But you know, mother--she's--she's different from us. Those sort of people, like those she lives amongst, they don't seemto have the same principles."
"You mustn't judge too hastily," said Mrs. Morel.
But he seemed uneasy within himself.
In the morning, however, he was up singing and larking roundthe house.
"Hello!" he called, sitting on the stairs. "Are you getting up?"
"Yes," her voice called faintly.
"Merry Christmas!" he shouted to her.
Her laugh, pretty and tinkling, was heard in the bedroom. She did not come down in half an hour.
"Was she REALLY getting up when she said she was?" he askedof Annie.
"Yes, she was," replied Annie.
He waited a while, then went to the stairs again.
"Happy New Year," he called.
"Thank you, Chubby dear!" came the laughing voice, far away.
"Buck up!" he implored.
It was nearly an hour, and still he was waiting for her. Morel, who always rose before six, looked at the clock.
"Well, it's a winder!" he exclaimed.
The family had breakfasted, all but William. He wentto the foot of the stairs.
"Shall I have to send you an Easter egg up there?" he called,rather crossly. She only laughed. The family expected, after thattime of preparation, something like magic. At last she came,looking very nice in a blouse and skirt.
"Have you REALLY been all this time getting ready?" he asked.
"Chubby dear! That question is not permitted, is it,Mrs. Morel?"
She played the grand lady at first. When she went with Williamto chapel, he in his frock-coat and silk hat, she in her fursand London-made costume, Paul and Arthur and Annie expectedeverybody to bow to the ground in admiration. And Morel, standing in his Sunday suit at the end of the road,watching the gallant pair go, felt he was the father of princesand princesses.
And yet she was not so grand. For a year now she had beena sort of secretary or clerk in a London office. But while shewas with the Morels she queened it. She sat and let Annie or Paulwait on her as if they were her servants. She treated Mrs. Morelwith a certain glibness and Morel with patronage. But after a dayor so she began to change her tune.
William always wanted Paul or Annie to go along with themon their walks. It was so much more interesting. And Paul reallyDID admire "Gipsy" wholeheartedly; in fact, his mother scarcelyforgave the boy for the adulation with which he treated the girl.
On the second day, when Lily said: "Oh, Annie, do you knowwhere I left my muff?" William replied:
"You know it is in your bedroom. Why do you ask Annie?"
And Lily went upstairs with a cross, shut mouth. But itangered the young man that she made a servant of his sister.
On the third evening William and Lily were sitting togetherin the parlour by the fire in the dark. At a quarter to elevenMrs. Morel was heard raking the fire. William came out to the kitchen,followed by his beloved.
"Is it as late as that, mother?" he said. She had beensitting alone.
"It is not LATE, my boy, but it is as late as I usually sit up."
"Won't you go to bed, then?" he asked.
"And leave you two? No, my boy, I don't believe in it."
"Can't you trust us, mother?"
"Whether I can or not, I won't do it. You can stay till elevenif you like, and I can read."
"Go to bed, Gyp," he said to his girl. "We won't keepmater waiting."
"Annie has left the candle burning, Lily," said Mrs. Morel;"I think you will see."
"Yes, thank you. Good-night, Mrs. Morel."
William kissed his sweetheart at the foot of the stairs,and she went. He returned to the kitchen.
"Can't you trust us, mother?" he repeated, rather offended.
"My boy, I tell you I don't BELIEVE in leaving two youngthings like you alone downstairs when everyone else is in bed."
And he was forced to take this answer. He kissed his mothergood-night.
At Easter he came over alone. And then he discussed hissweetheart endlessly with his mother.
"You know, mother, when I'm away from her I don't care for hera bit. I shouldn't care if I never saw her again. But, then,when I'm with her in the evenings I am awfully fond of her."
"It's a queer sort of love to marry on," said Mrs. Morel,"if she holds you no more than that!"
"It IS funny!" he exclaimed. It worried and perplexed him. "But yet--there's so much between us now I couldn't give her up."
"You know best," said Mrs. Morel. "But if it is as you say, Iwouldn't call it LOVE--at any rate, it doesn't look much like it."
"Oh, I don't know, mother. She's an orphan, and---"
They never came to any sort of conclusion. He seemed puzzledand rather fretted. She was rather reserved. All his strengthand money went in keeping this girl. He could scarcely affordto take his mother to Nottingham when he came over.
Paul's wages had been raised at Christmas to ten shillings,to his great joy. He was quite happy at Jordan's, but his healthsuffered from the long hours and the confinement. His mother,to whom he became more and more significant, thought how to help.
His half-day holiday was on Monday afternoon. On a Mondaymorning in May, as the two sat alone at breakfast, she said:
"I think it will be a fine day."
He looked up in surprise. This meant something.
"You know Mr. Leivers has gone to live on a new farm. Well, he asked me last week if I wouldn't go and see Mrs. Leivers,and I promised to bring you on Monday if it's fine. Shall we go?"
"I say, little woman, how lovely!" he cried. "And we'll gothis afternoon?"
CHAPTER VI
DEATH IN THE FAMILY （II）
Paul hurried off to the station jubilant. Down Derby Roadwas a cherry-tree that glistened. The old brick wall by theStatutes ground burned scarlet, spring was a very flame of green. And the steep swoop of highroad lay, in its cool morning dust,splendid with patterns of sunshine and shadow, perfectly still. The trees sloped their great green shoulders proudly; and insidethe warehouse all the morning, the boy hada vision of spring outside.
When he came home at dinner-time his mother was rather excited.
"Are we going?" he asked.
"When I'm ready," she replied.
Presently he got up.
"Go and get dressed while I wash up," he said.
She did so. He washed the pots, straightened, and then tookher boots. They were quite clean. Mrs. Morel was one of those naturallyexquisite people who can walk in mud without dirtying their shoes. But Paul had to clean them for her. They were kid boots at eightshillings a pair. He, however, thought them the most dainty bootsin the world, and he cleaned them with as much reverence as if theyhad been flowers.
Suddenly she appeared in the inner doorway rather shyly. She had got a new cotton blouse on. Paul jumped up and went forward.
"Oh, my stars!" he exclaimed. "What a bobby-dazzler!"
She sniffed in a little haughty way, and put her head up.
"It's not a bobby-dazzler at all!" she replied. "It's very quiet."
She walked forward, whilst he hovered round her.
"Well," she asked, quite shy, but pretending to be highand mighty, "do you like it?"
"Awfully! You ARE a fine little woman to go jaunting out with!"
He went and surveyed her from the back.
"Well," he said, "if I was walking down the street behind you,I should say: 'Doesn't THAT little person fancy herself!"'
"Well, she doesn't," replied Mrs. Morel. "She's not sure itsuits her."
