Marion St. John Webb

“ Isobel took Pamela's outstretched hand, but her dignity was still a little ruffled.
"Beryl seems to have made a lot of fuss—if there's nothing to hide," she said in a slightly offended tone.
"Oh, she's only extra sensitive.... Why ever should there be anything to hide!" repeated Pamela, feeling as if she had not been quite successful in convincing Isobel. "It's only that she's been unhappy—and she's been poor. Lack of money makes such a difference in one's confidence in one's self. ”

“ Pamela's friendship with the Bagg family developed rapidly, and she became a frequent visitor to 'Alice Maud Villa'—much to Isobel's amazement; Isobel was more than amazed, she was scandalized.
"I simply can't understand Pamela," confided Isobel to Caroline. "What can she find in those Baggs? Even if Elizabeth Bagg can sketch a bit—it's no excuse; they're not the sort of people Pamela should like to mix with. After all, Tom Bagg is only the village cabman! You can't get away from the fact, can you now? You know what I mean—they're not Pamela's sort somehow—I really am surprised at her taste." ”

“ Beryl explained in a confused way. "I care much more what you think about me than I do what Isobel thinks about me. It's what I do, when she keeps questioning me, that upsets me." Beryl paused, and rubbed her eyes with her handkerchief, then said suddenly, "When she bothers me with questions I—it makes me tell lies! ... And, oh, Pamela," she sobbed, "I do hate myself for doing it." ”

“ Isobel, who was some way in front of Caroline, was passing a low thick bush half-way along the path to the gate, and had turned to make some laughing remark, and wave her hand to Pamela at the front door, when suddenly a pailful of garden rubbish—mostly weeds with black, wet soil clinging to their roots—came shooting over the bush, and descended in a shower all over Isobel and her pretty white silk frock. ”

“ That same day, in the afternoon, a group of happy people were gathered on the lawn chatting together in Miss Crabingway's garden—for the guests she had invited were no others than Pamela's mother and Michael and Doris; Isobel's mater and brother Gerald, and Lady Prior and her two daughters; and Caroline's mother—a plump, placid little soul, remarkably like her daughter in appearance. Miss Crabingway had thought this little surprise would please the girls—and it would be nicer for them to travel home with their own people. ”

“ In another train Caroline and her mother journey back to the busy little provincial town where they live. While Isobel, seated beside her mater, with a cosy coat wrapped round her, whirls along the country lanes in the motor which brother Gerald is driving.
An old gentleman climbs into a crowded bus at Charing Cross; he has a remarkably high, bald forehead, which becomes visible when he removes his hat; he stands holding on to a strap in the bus, his thoughts far away. He is thinking of a little country village, and in the midst of all the bustle and life of London he feels suddenly lonely. ”

“ She tried to conjure up visions of rapturously applauding audiences encoring an embroidered tea-cosy, but it was impossible to picture it, and she sighed heavily. "And yet the tea-cosy is much more useful than a dance," she thought. Isobel might have argued that a dance, in giving a hundred people a few minutes' genuine pleasure and happiness was of more use than a tea-cosy, but Caroline would never have agreed with her. ”

“ The bus rattles on toward the Temple—and he thinks of his deserted, paper-strewn room in Fig Tree Court, and he is overcome by a great wave of pity for himself; he begins to feel exceedingly sorry for himself. Suddenly his expression changes to one of dismay and exasperation—he has remembered that he must visit a photographer to-morrow.
At the same moment, far away down at Barrowfield, there is a light in the drawing-room of Chequertrees, and some one is playing softly on the piano. Miss Crabingway sits on the couch by the fire, a book in her hands—but she is not reading. ”

“ From the window, or for the matter of that from the green or the road that encircled the green, little could be seen of the house, as the high ivy-topped walls which surrounded the garden guarded it jealously from prying eyes. It was only through the tall iron-rail gate set into an arch in the stone wall that you could ascertain that the house was flat-fronted and square, a house entirely covered with ivy, out from whose dark, rustling leaves many windows peered like deep-set eyes. A broad gravel path swept from the gate to a flight of white steps that led up to the front door. ”

“ They always want more—they don't want tact!"
Pamela stared for a moment at Isobel, who was reclining gracefully on the sofa, amusement in every line of her face at Pamela's ideas.
"Good gracious, Isobel! I can see a perfectly horrible future in store for you," Pamela said quietly. "You are going to be another Mrs Lester."
"What of it?" laughed Isobel. "As long as I am as rich as she is, there are no horrors for me."
"Anyway, I'm sorry for you," said Pamela earnestly.
"What on earth for?" asked Isobel, slightly nettled.
"Because you'll miss some of the best things in life," replied Pamela. ”

“ It speaks well for Martha and Ellen that they were not persuaded to tell more than they did; maybe they didn't know more; maybe they did, but wouldn't say. The village gossips shook their heads at the closeness of these two trusted servants concerning their mistress's affairs.... And so Pamela and Isobel attracted more than the usual attention bestowed on strangers in Barrowfield—the bolder folk (like the butcher) staring unabashed from their front doors, while the more retiring peeped through their curtains. ”

“ It's easier to do it for another person than it is for oneself," said Pamela. "And now you must go to sleep—you'll look all washed out in the morning if you don't. And, remember, we've got to enjoy our stay in this house—let's get all the fun out of it we can, shall we? ... Don't worry any more about Isobel—it'll be all right, you just see! ... Good-night, Beryl. And—Beryl—thank you for showing me your mother's letter."
When Pamela had gone Beryl cried a little more, but they were a different kind of tears this time, because she had found a friend, and her heart was full of gratitude. ”

“ Miss Crabingway must mean relatives one already knows."
"Not necessarily, I'm afraid," said Pamela.
"Well, what shall I do?" asked Isobel, blankly.
"If you are really anxious to settle the matter, I'm afraid a deputy is the only course open to you. Of course, if they are your relations you must simply ignore them; if they're not, you can cultivate their acquaintance or not, just as you like," Pamela said, trying her best to be helpful to Isobel, as she could see the problem appeared to be of great moment to her.
"Oh, but I couldn't ignore Lady Prior in any case, could I?" said Isobel. ”

“ Martha vanished into the kitchen to prepare something hot and tasty for supper, while Ellen hurried to and fro with warm water for washing, and carried boxes and parcels upstairs, and lit gases, and pulled down blinds, and generally made herself useful, while Pamela, followed by Beryl, showed Isobel and Caroline to their rooms, doing her best as hostess to make them feel comfortable and at home. ”

“ Pamela asked, turning to Caroline.
"Well," drawled Caroline, "I like doing needlework better than anything."
Isobel put her handkerchief to her mouth to hide a smile. Fortunately Caroline was not looking at her, but Beryl was. Caroline went on undisturbed.
"I'm not fond of reading or books, but I've been thinking—if there were any classes near by, on dressmaking—cutting out and all that, you know—that I could attend, I wouldn't mind that; but anyway I've got plenty of plain needlework to go on with. ”

“ It was fear, fear of some one or something, that made people deceitful and made them tell untruths. Miss Crabingway felt a rush of keen disappointment that her plans had been spoilt, that the one girl for whom she had taken so much trouble had failed her. And yet Miss Crabingway felt that she herself was more to blame than Beryl. She might have known that Beryl's aunt would try to obtain money from the child, if she thought she had any. ”

“ The girls gave Miss Crabingway the small gifts they had made for her: Pamela, a sketch of Chequertrees; Caroline, a hand-embroidered tray-cloth; Beryl, a waltz which she had composed herself, and had copied out in a manuscript music-book. She offered it to Miss Crabingway very shyly and with much diffidence. "It's the only thing I could do myself," she said apologetically. Isobel presented her photographs, enlarged and handsomely framed; they were photographs of the other three girls in the garden. Miss Crabingway was immensely pleased and touched by the girls' thought for her. ”

“ Then, when she was young, it had been an invalid mother who had claimed all her attention, so that she had never had time nor opportunities to make friends with young people of her own age—young people who had interests in common with herself. She had painted and drawn in her spare time, and had even had a couple of terms at an art school, in the days before her mother had become a helpless invalid. Then, when her mother had died, it had been Elizabeth's intention to take a room in London by herself and set resolutely to work to earn a living by her painting ”

“ It would be so much more romantic, Pamela said, to write it beside the well in the moonlight, rather than beside the dining-room table in the gaslight.
"I hope you each know what you're going to wish," said Isobel. "It'll be too chilly to stand about making up our minds when we get there."
Long Lane stretched from the blacksmith's forge, that stood on the same side of Barrowfield Green as Chequertrees, past Tom Bagg's house, and up the hill to a small inn, and a handful of scattered cottages a mile and a half away. ”

“ The clothes you choose, and the furniture you choose to surround yourself with, are an index of your character to a stranger. To Pamela, who could not remember ever seeing Miss Crabingway, this room was an introduction. Of Miss Crabingway's character she knew nothing, but in her mind's eye she pictured Miss Crabingway fond of solid, expensive things, as large and dark, with rich, black, rustling dresses, and gold brooches, and a lot of thick gold rings set with large stones on her fingers. ”

“ She did not see Isobel frown as she picked up her newspaper again.
"Bazaars," said Pamela over the top of her book, "I don't like bazaars. They are places where you get the least value for the greatest amount of money spent. I'd always rather give my money willingly to any good cause or fund—rather than buy something I didn't want at a price it wasn't worth—just so that I could see something for the money I was giving in this roundabout way to a deserving object." ”

“ I've had a perfectly impossible journey here to-day, and I'm simply fagged out and perishingly cold."
"We must get you something hot to drink," said Pamela, "and you must have a good rest. Would you like to come straight into the dining-room and have a warm—there's a lovely fire there—or would you rather go up to your bedroom first?"
"Oh, please—a wash and tidy up first," said Isobel. "I must look such a fright——"
And then Pamela noticed that another girl was standing beside Martha, just inside the front door. A big plush curtain in the hall almost hid her from view. ”

“ Pamela observed that the wallpaper was an all-over floral design in various shades of green and raised gold roses; the gloomy, old-fashioned fireplace, with its marble mantelpiece, on which were arranged a score of old china ornaments and photo frames, and a massive marble clock, was the chief feature of the wall opposite the wardrobe. The window-curtains, the duchess set on the dressing-table, and the coverlet on the bed were the only touches of white to relieve the general sombreness that prevailed. ”

“ She hurried old Martha across to the window, and pointed out to her a woman dressed in grey, who was walking briskly away along the green.
"I can't see very well without my glasses," said Martha, peering intently through the window, while Pamela added a few words of description of the woman in grey to help Martha to recognize her. "Oh—that young person," Martha exclaimed suddenly; "well, she isn't exactly what you might call young—but still— That's Elizabeth Bagg, Miss Pamela. Old Tom Bagg's sister." ”

“ She could relate at great length, when in the mood, all the various strokes of bad fortune that had fallen on her numerous relatives and acquaintances, and all the illnesses they had suffered from, and died of, and her favourite recreation was wandering round old churchyards and exclaiming over the early age at which numbers of people died.
But though Martha and Ellen might be opposite temperamentally, yet they certainly united in making Pamela very welcome on her arrival at Chequertrees, and she found them most kind and willing and anxious to make her comfortable. ”

“ The others laughed with Pamela at this recollection of hers, and attention was distracted from Beryl, much to her relief.
"Well," said Pamela, "for myself—I am going to do a heap of reading—especially historical books; and I want most of all to continue my sketching. I'm very fond of dabbling in black and white sketching—and I want lots of practice. I've brought with me some books about it—to study."
"Oh, you energetic people," yawned Isobel. "It makes me tired to think of the work you're going to do." ”

“ A tremendous struggle was going on in Beryl's mind; she was working herself up to do a thing she shrank from with all her might. "I must do it now—now. I owe it to her," the thought pricked her conscience. "Why not tell Pamela, and get her to explain to Miss Crabingway—or ask to speak to Miss Crabingway alone," urged another thought. "But the other girls are sure to hear in the end—and get the story a roundabout way—probably exaggerated," she argued to herself. ”

“ It looked as if Mr Sigglesthorne was in the habit of placing things down just wherever he happened to be at the moment—which was handy at the time, but caused much confusion and delay in the long run; though it may have added a little variety to his life to find his belongings where he least expected them.
Mr Sigglesthorne, with his Shakespearean forehead shining in a distinguished manner, sat on the coal-scuttle polishing his glasses and gazing nervously round at his guests. ”